The Triangle: Eternity War

Death Bringer

aka Memoirs of a Mechanoid

First Edition

by Adam J Purcell

artwork by Andy Simpkins

http://www.StaggeringStories.net/

This is one character's story of The Triangle: Eternity War. Other eBooks in this series, and more besides, are available free from the Staggering Stories website.

This eBook is copyright 2011 to Adam J Purcell and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/).

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: One of Those Days

Hmm, writer's block, yes? Where to begin, huh? Memoir's of a Mechanoid. Sounds like a best seller to me. Doubt the Klingons would appreciate my thoughts on them, right? Good place to start! All began after a particularly unsuccessful mission for those do gooders, the Alliance to Restore the Republic, or Rebel Alliance to you and me, huh? Never could understand their motives, not in it for the money, not even in it for the glory (not that there is much in the dingy cesspits they hide in). No, in it for some political or moral thing. Could make good money some of them, got real talent, could go far in the Boun… er, Freelance Peacekeeping circles, yes?

“Hey, Death Bringer?” called the young idealistic rebel trainee.

* What now, huh?! * said Death Bringer as he walked onto the Prestinium’s flight deck. He’d agreed somewhat begrudgingly to allow this kid to accompany him on his mission. His father was some kind of commander or general or something. Didn’t matter who he was to Death Bringer, the kid, Dilon, just got in the way.

“Do you think this will damage my chances? Messing up, I mean?” asked Dilon, for the first time sounding concerned about the consequences of his mistake.

* Frankly don’t care. I’m on retainer, get paid either way, yes? * Death Bringer was damned if he was going to sound even slightly sorry for him.

“It’s just… Well I’m real sorry, DB - ” Dilon was interrupted.

* ‘Death Bringer’, right? *

“Er, yeah, sorry. Erm, well you know how it is? I didn’t know you wanted me to keep quiet and all that…”

* In the middle of an Imperial Garrison?! *

“Yeah, well hey - who would have guessed those stormtroopers could hear anything through those helmets? Especially when there is a whole squad of them marching along like that?” Dilon sounded more and more pathetic as he continued. Death Bringer just sighed and rolled his eyes, or rather the little red dots that served as his pupils decided to take an interest in the ceiling. A habit retained from his days as a fully-fledged human before his transformation into a mechanoid.

* Know better next time, yes? *

“Oh, I will, I will! Do you really think they will let me go on another mission? Even after crashing the ship through those closing bay doors?” Dilon added and completely failed to notice Death Bringer wince.

* Sure ‘daddy’ will fix it up for you, huh? *

At that moment, before Dilon had decided if he should be annoyed by Death Bringer’s remark or not, a dual tone siren went off from speakers hidden all about the flight deck. Death Bringer sprang across the room to the pilots seat and began jabbing buttons.

* Strap in! Unexpected Gravity Well on our flight path! * shouted Death Bringer over the sirens, not taking his own advice. He continued jabbing buttons, standing in front of the pilot’s seat, as Dilon tried to make his way to the co-pilot seat despite the sudden instability of the ship. One moment the floor would feel like it had disappeared below his feet the next it felt like he had just landed on it after a considerable fall. Suddenly it was on a forty-five degree slope one way, then the other. He wasn’t sure if it was hyperspace causing the problem or the gravity generators, he just hoped the whole thing wouldn’t be flipped upside down. Lunch left his body, from both ends.

Dangerous place, hyperspace. Having just escaped, barely, from an Imperial Garrison, didn’t really find myself in the mood to follow the well plied hyperspace routes to get back to ‘Homebase’ (a major Rebel base that I worked from. Hmm, would make a good name for a retail outlet, yes?) Still, route I took was well charted, no possibility of anything greater than a comet getting in the way - minor gravity well, easily avoided by the computer automatically. So I thought, right? Blamed the kid at first, assumed he must have damaged something major in our escape. Should never have let him pilot, better that than let him shoot our pursuers, hmm? Odd thing was it turns out that we were on the right course but somehow a new planet had appeared from nowhere, huh? Just my luck, in the vastness of space a planet just happens to materialise in front of me, yes?

No doubt a lesser mechanoid could never have saved us from being torn apart atom by atom, yes? Managed to pull us out of hyperspace in time but, of course, ended up on a collision course for the mass creating the gravity well. Clearly was going to be one of those days, yes? Almost made me wish I were still a disembodied brain in a bacta tank, huh? No chance of missing the planet at our speed, with the planet’s pull and the ships somewhat, er, ‘worse for ware’ normal-space engines. Time for a controlled emergency landing, or a crash as most people would put it, right?

The Prestinium had stopped lurching about from the occupier’s point of view and now shuddered violently with subtle vibrating harmonics. Dilon had gone a very peculiar shade of pale green and appeared to be trying to put his head between his legs, though the restraint harness prevented his back from leaving contact with the seat. Death Bringer now sat in the pilot seat wrestling with the control joystick which seemed to have a mind of its own. He hadn’t had time to worry about messing around with restraint harnesses.

The planet more than filled the great window (a very sturdy transparisteel) that dominated the flight deck, giving at least 120 degrees viewing area out of the front of the ship, and the area that was filling it was decreasing rapidly as they approached. One minute it was an entire continent, the next only a quarter of it, less and less. Death Bringer saw what looked like a city in the middle of the large forest that now filled his view. He still continued his desperate battle with the ship to bring the nose up, not having any wish to hit the planet like a dart. The planet’s atmosphere was helping his whining thrusters slowly counteract their speed. Time was running out, the sky was running out - soon to be solid ground. The Prestinium, finally, started to ease up. The nose began to move towards the horizon but the downward momentum was still dragging the ship more down than forward. As the nose came up the forest that filled the viewport was joined by the sight of buildings above the treetops ahead and a blue sky coming into view above that. The ship was heading, virtually out of control, towards the city that Death Bringer glimpsed only a handful of seconds before. As if sensing it was about the worst possible time suddenly a dull thud was felt, rather than heard, go through the flight deck and the desperate screams of the thrusters abruptly halted.

Bad enough we were heading straight towards a rather hard looking city, losing height rapidly, then the retro thrusters decide to give out, yes? Didn’t even ask for a pay rise before quitting, right? That’s gratitude for you! Now would be a good time to lighten the load, jettison cargo and non-essentials, I thought. Sadly wasn’t carrying any cargo. Nearly asked Dilon to jump out, though, huh? At least would have saved me having to put up with him vomiting at the first sign of trouble! Twice in one day, where do these kids store all those old carrots, huh? Surprised those Imperials, yes?! Don’t suppose they meet many saboteurs that do that!

Anyway, trees coming up to meet us below and a city ready to greet us with open arms in front, yes? No thrusters to slow us down but at least the anti-gravity system was slowing our descent, right? Why do ships always crash in forests, huh? Must be some unwritten law of physics. This mechanoid has a tendency to lightly interpret laws, yes! Trees would have made a lighter landing but speed was still too high, would have been shredded. Better to lose speed, gain height and overshoot city, try and put down in a lightly wooded area or clearing the other side. Nice idea, yes?

Just as the Prestinium approached the edge of the forest some of the taller treetops started to skim the bottom of the ship. The next thing Death Bringer knew, Dilon had passed out by this time, the green trees were yet again filling the viewport but this time with a side on view. Not much height had been lost and thanks to the ships momentum they glided through the, relatively flexible, tops of the trees fairly easily. There was now no choice, they would have to crash into the city, any attempt to turn and avoid it would certainly cause a total loss of control and they would end up barrelling into it anyway.

Without warning the trees disappeared. The nose jerked downwards as it became free of them before the back of the ship did. Death Bringer put every ounce of strength into pulling the nose back up but it just didn’t respond. The nose was only about ten degrees below the horizon line (which wasn’t directly visible due to the city sky line) but it was enough to mean they would hit ground in twenty or thirty seconds at this height. Unfortunately buildings were likely to hit them before the ground got its chance.

Typical city structure, sparse smaller buildings around edges becoming denser and taller towards city centre, yes? Very inconsiderate place to build a city, I thought. No consideration some people, huh? Remember first crashing through some kind of flimsy shack, barn perhaps? Hope the owner had good insurance or an interest in matchsticks, right? Don’t remember anything else about the landing but must have skidded across at least a mile of soft arable land. Ended up, conveniently, in the middle of a large out of town shopping centre speeder park, right? Helped them reduce the amount of traffic on the roads, yes?!

Dilon was the first to come around, still firmly strapped in his harness, the chair being exactly where he remembered it always being. It was dark and eerily silent. A small amount of light managed to force its way through the viewport, though not as much as he would have expected. The flight deck wasn’t all that large, primarily designed for a single pilot and an occasional co-pilot. Already the cabin was uncomfortably warm and stuffy. Otherwise, as far as Dilon could make out, everything looked okay. He looked about to see where Death Bringer was. No sign. He unfastened his restraints and tried to stand. He ached, he ached all over and for a second wasn’t sure if it was just him or if the floor really was sloping down towards the back of the room slightly.

“Death Bringer?” he called out, little louder than he would normally speak. “You okay?”

It was then that he noticed the viewport. The transparisteel was buckled inwards. Where once it had curved around, across the entire front of the flight deck and down behind the curved control panel, even underneath the metal deck panels, now it was anything but gracefully curved. The gap between the viewport and control panel used to be a good half metre but now, at the major impact point, it was little more than a few centimetres. Dilon thought he saw something move down there.

“DB?” he said sounding more than a little alarmed. Yes, he could just about make out a hand. It was twitching slightly. “You okay?” he repeated feeling a sudden surge of panic begin to take hold. He clambered onto the dead console, trying to look down the gap. Dilon could just about make out the form of Death Bringer jammed between the viewport, panel and whatever lay beneath it. There were no signs of consciousness. He reached down and grabbed the still twitching hand, then reached a bit further and grabbed the wrist. He pulled as hard as he could but didn’t manage to do more than pull the arm straight, there was no appreciable shoulder or body movement. “Look, er, hold on there… I’ll get help. Don’t, er, never mind. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He blurted out before sliding back off the console and heading for the single door at the rear of the cabin.

Dilon ripped open an emergency panel next to the door, grabbed the manual release lever and pulled it with all his strength. He needn’t have as it gave easily, almost making him lose balance, and the door sprang halfway open. A thick blue/grey smoke began to drift through the opening causing Dilon to retreat away, covering his mouth and nose with his right hand. Fortunately he quickly located a breath mask in a storage locker to the right of the door and pulled it on. It was a full-face variety that also protected the eyes and went around and covered the ears. Dilon returned to the sliding door and eased it open the rest of the way. He ventured through into the smoky gloom, trying desperately to remember where he had been shown the top emergency exit to be.

****

Death Bringer came around with a start. He had a massive headache and that was always a bad sign since he gave up drinking. He was rather forced to give up drinking, or more specifically, forced to give up getting drunk. Even slightly tipsy was now impossible for him thanks to the way all sustenance he poured through his mouth grill was now fed directly into the fusion generator in his lower abdomen. He didn’t have a hang over, so something hit him, something hit him hard. He felt no pain, had no sense of any major damage but was immediately on alert for more of the same. It was then he realised he was trapped.

* Days like this I can do without, yes? * he said to no one in particular.

Internal systems suggested I was out for several hours, yes? Had no idea where Dilon was, not even sure if he survived, huh? Sadly pinned in and couldn’t reach the fusion cutter on my belt. Wasn’t long after this that I heard someone cutting the transparisteel viewport open from the outside. Assumed it was Dilon and a rescue team, yes? Trapped looking away from viewport so couldn’t see who it was, right? Almost ready to forgive the kid, began to think he might eventually learn this business after all. Wasn’t until I tumbled out of the opened viewport and saw my rescuers that I realised my reputation had just nose-dived with the ship, yes?

* Tight spot, yes? * Death Bringer said, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment as, sprawled on the floor, he looked up at the none too pleasant features of his rescuers. Death Bringer was beginning to stand up, simultaneously brushing himself off with great exaggeration, when a human looking man joined the party.

“Oh well then, don’t mention it will you?” the newcomer said. He exuded an air of supreme arrogance, the type that Death Bringer loved to face, to see their faces as he dealt the death blow, that look of unrivalled surprise as they realise they have been beaten in the most important conflict of their lives. This type also comprised the majority of Death Bringer’s clients in the private sector. He always found himself having to suppress his natural instincts with them - it just wouldn’t be good for business and there is no profit in taking them down a peg or two. He had a feeling this person would be more a client than an adversary so turned his embarrassment on the men who cut him out.

* Something died, huh? * Death Bringer said, after an exaggerated sniff. It was true that these aliens either had an extremely strong and unpleasant odour or just had very little regard for personal hygiene. The apparent leader snarled, the sight of the teeth lead Death Bringer to the quick conclusion that it was, mainly at least, a hygiene problem. The leader, a Klingon by the name of Kronos, added weight to his snarl by levelling a rather crude looking gun at Death Bringer.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Kronos demanded.

“Better answer them, old chap, they seem to like saying that. It must be some kind of greeting ritual.” The newcomer, a Gallifreyan Time Lord that had assumed the moniker of ‘The Buccaneer’, offered. Death Bringer looked at the Time Lord, largely ignoring the imposing Klingon figure and the immediate threat to his life.

* Friendly bunch, yes? Names Death Bringer, Freelance Peacekeeping Agent. * he replied to The Buccaneer, deliberately not answering directly to the Klingon.

“Bah, he is nothing more than bounty hunting scum. How did you come to be between ship and road?” gruffed Kronos who was trying very hard to gain some kind of command position within the situation. Death Bringer wasn’t about to let what he considered an ill educated local law enforcement bullyboy gain any standing. Normally he would take great offence to being called a ‘bounty hunter’ but he decided to largely let it slide with this one, for now.

* Didn’t Klunk-Click, yes? Like you, or is that face natural, huh? * Death Bringer retorted, clearly not interested in answering questions from Kronos seriously, especially when he still had a gun pointed at him. Kronos’ eyes flared as he slammed his gun back in its holster and brought his body into an unarmed combat stance.

“You’ll pay for that insult!” spitted Kronos, barely keeping his urge to fight in check.

* No, first one free, yes? Pays to advertise! * Death Bringer said in an even tone, making no apparent moves to bring his body into a defensive pose.

“Now, now gentlemen. No need to trade insults, neither of you are as handsome as I, unfortunately. Are you also here to rescue someone from these second rate Cybermen?” The Buccaneer quickly interjected hoping to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. He obviously had some control over the Klingon as Kronos quickly reigned his temper in, helped by Death Bringer obviously failing to be intimidated.

* Unscheduled visit, yes? Need to get off this… Hmm, seen an annoying kid about, huh? * asked Death Bringer, again directing his attention solely to the Buccaneer. The Buccaneer cocked an eyebrow, clearly slightly appalled and yet concerned.

“You mean that you’ve let a child run around this place? Do your know what sort of creatures there are infesting this once proud, noble, yet obviously primitive city?” asked The Buccaneer, trying to give the impression of wisdom but instead coming across slightly phoney. Death Bringer just wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

* Can smell them, yes? * he replied, his attention still on the Time Lord but his gaze firmly locked on the small group of Klingons, four of which were now making their way away from the Prestinium. Kronos took this as an opportunity to yet again try and stamp his authority on the proceedings.

“There are more of you? How many?” Kronos said, either ignoring or more likely completely missing the insult just thrown his way.

* Two at last count, if you can do that, yes? Four, count that four, of you have gone into the infestation, huh? * Death Bringer directed at Kronos. The Klingon leader just snarled and turned away, hoping to be more successful by emulating Death Bringer’s exclusion techniques. Silently, and without warning, a hovering robot drifted around the side of the Prestinium’s nose cone to join the remains of the group.

* THE SHIP IS UNSPACEWORTHY * intoned a tinny, bland mechanical voice coming from the robotic life form. Death Bringer had never encountered a Sot’m before but was very familiar with droids and just assumed Cre’at was just a form of droid he had never encountered, nothing more than a mechanical servant. Death Bringer took a look at the small part of the ship he could see, rubbed what served as his chin and estimated the damage to be relatively minor, considering.

“Just how were you expecting to get off planet now that your ships kablooey? In fact I, a being of extreme good sense and a person of many, many wonderful ideas have a solution. Now you say that you’re a bounty hunter?” said The Buccaneer, clearly having bought into his own bluster, probably many years ago. Death Bringer fixed The Buccaneer in a glare, the type his face was well designed for. A glare that had many a time broken the resolve of his quarry.

* Prefer the term Freelance Peacekeeping Agent, yes? * Death Bringer carefully and firmly stated.

“Yes, yes, yes. Like I said, a bounty hunter. We should like to engage your services.” The Buccaneer replied, completely missing Death Bringer’s insistence and instead just continuing to use his own vision of how things are, regardless.

“WHAT?????” Kronos virtually shouted, spinning around to stare at the Time Lord, completely destroying his pretence of ignoring the foolish aliens, without even thinking.

“Well Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Bepo have all decided to go off on their own, we could use him. Plus we can all keep an eye on each other.” suggested The Buccaneer in such a way as to give the Klingon no choice. The Klingon made a face like he had just eaten the most fowl tasting thing he had ever come across.

* Need to find Dilon, yes? * Death Bringer said simply, not wishing to get involved in anybody else’s problems but hoping they might agree to help him.

“Well if you see Mr Rusty you can ask him. Look, all we need is a diversion. Are you up for it? And if we see your friend we can make sure that he gets to you.” replied The Buccaneer. Finding Dilon seemed to Death Bringer to be the least of his problems as he surveyed the area, no sign of life anywhere. In fact he wondered if the whole area had been evacuated due to his arrival. The twisted remains of personal vehicles were all around the ship and back along its course. Nearer the large shopping mall hundreds more vehicles sat neatly parked in rows but there were no signs of people, either on the ground, in the mall windows or any aircraft in the sky. Now he thought about it, there was silence. Except for the others around him he could hear nothing. No animals, birds for example, no sound of distant traffic or industry. He could see he was still on the edge of the city but was nonetheless slightly spooked by it. Still, it was probably for the best as far as he was concerned, Dilon was probably unconscious on the ship so he can just get out quietly. Except that the Prestinium looked in the need of some minor running repairs before he could even consider taking off, the rest will wait until the return to Homebase.

* Hmm, doesn’t look many roadside repairs companies operating in this area, right? * said Death Bringer indicating the wreckage around him and hoping the rescuers might agree to help repair the Prestinium in exchange for a more concrete assurance from him.

Problem was The Buccaneer was too wrapped up in his own sense of destiny to take my hint of mutual co-operation, yes? Wanted me to play willing target and take his bullet, right? All for helping to find Dilon. Was sure the kid was still on the ship, making offer rather meaningless, huh? Didn’t take into consideration the kid’s annoying habit of making a bad situation worse! Quick check of the ship proved he had left, probably gone to find me. No sense some people, yes? Agreed to help the Time Lord who introduced himself as The Buccaneer, along with his companions Cre’at and the foul smelling Kronos. Had little interest in doing too much for them so asked no questions, right. Had no idea what I was getting myself into, yes? Split company, they said something about a strange spire structure at the centre of the city, I went to the most likely place Dilon would have gone - the retail centre.

The twilight that Death Bringer had awoken to was now in the beginnings of night proper. Floodlights lit the giant car park and lights could also now be seen emanating from the mall, yet there was still no sign of people or any other animal life. Death Bringer, now alone again, ventured towards a set of large transparent doors, the main entrance into the mall. The doors he approached opened as he came within a few metres of them, sliding quietly to the sides. He cautiously entered the building, hoping to avoid any further surprises - he’d had more than his fair share of those today already. It was a truly massive building, more shops than he had ever seen together in his life. There were four floors visible above, tiered around the edges of the interior with a complex set of lifts and escalators to move between them. All appeared functional but there was still no sign of life, Dilon included.

The doors slide shut behind Death Bringer as he moved further into the mall, slowly looking all around himself as he went. He reached behind around to his back, over his right shoulder, and unclipped his Titanium Shott Blaster which, along with most of his arsenal, was secured beneath a round shield. He brought the weapon around in front of himself, holding it in his right hand and lightly resting the barrel in his left. Something wasn’t right here. He’d been out for several hours, he knew that, so if the area had been evacuated there was plenty of time for the authorities to have moved police or troops in. It was more like everyone had simply vanished.

* Anybody home, huh? Suddenly feel very unpopular, yes? * he called not really expecting any reply and indeed not getting one.

Death Bringer continued his way into the mall, ignoring the upper levels and instead moving towards what looked like a circular information desk in the middle. It was then that he noticed the occasional discarded bag, some of them with their contents strewn out on the floor. One of the shop windows was smashed. A lone shoe could be seen left laying on the concourse. The suggestion was that people were involved in scuffles or panic, perhaps both. He could see no bodies or blood stains but it was clear there was a none too orderly departure from the building for some.

Reaching the information desk Death Bringer took a quick look over the masses of leaflets on offer, placed his gun on the counter and picked one up that appeared to be a map of the complex. Most of the symbols, presumably much of it some form of written language, made no sense to him but the general look of the diagram was simple and easily decipherable. The flat roof, given the tree like symbols, was apparently some form of park or recreation area, perhaps with refreshment facilities. Most of the outlines on the other floors appeared to be of shops, the escalators and lifts were easily discernible and he noticed what he assumed to be toilet facilities at strategic positions. There were also clearly gaps in the map that presumably omitted office and storage areas. All in all nothing unexpected or helpful. Death Bringer folded the map, jammed it behind his belt for later use and picked his gun back up.

There was a noise. He could only just detect it, so faint was it that it registered more as a subconscious alert than anything else. He quickly scanned all around but saw no movement. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. He froze and cocked his head slightly as he listened as hard as he could for a repeat. There it was again. It came from what appeared to be a supermarket not far from his position, on the ground floor. Death Bringer’s hunter instincts kicked in and he swiftly strode up to the left edge of the shop façade, making virtually no sound as he did so despite his size and weight. He peered through the open front, seeing a long row of checkouts going away from him across the shop front and an open entry area to the right. Beyond were isles of goods in packages of all shapes and sizes but no signs of any people.

Death Bringer quickly darted down behind the nearest checkout and reassessed the situation. He saw a brief glimpse of movement at the very far end of the shop but it disappeared behind the row of isles to his right that blocked his view of the far right end of the shop. Each isle was a good two and a half metres tall and had a solid centre divider panel between the two sides of each unit. Intending to make use of this for cover he vaulted over the one way barrier at the end of the checkout he was hiding behind. His landing wasn’t nearly as quiet as he had intended and he froze in a prone position. There was a crash of what sounded like a small display of cans at the other end of the shop and Death Bringer cursed himself.

* Damn. Sloppy, yes? * he whispered under his breath and edged slightly back to gain some cover from the front of the checkout to his right. There was silence from the other end, his opponent, if that is what it was, was likely frozen into a similar defensive position. He considered who it might be. It could be Dilon, it could be one, or more, of the Klingons (though they didn’t strike him as the subtle creep about type), a native of some description or who knows what. It wasn’t his style to go guns blazing into an unknown situation but he was ready to defend himself. He waited about ten seconds, hoping the other will relax slightly, and silently stood up and moved to the start of the isle directly in front of himself. All was quiet at the other end still. He quickly moved along the isle until he reached a gap about halfway down the shop. There was a barely audible shuffling coming his way, down the central gap all the isles shared. Death Bringer kept out of sight of the on comer and grabbed an item from a shelf next to him, a nice sized bottle of gloopy looking liquid. He quickly estimated the strength of the isle and its shelves, judging by its contents it should serve his purpose. Death Bringer threw the bottle across the shop, many isles down and towards the checkouts hoping the other wouldn’t see it in flight and determine a point of origin. The instant it smashed he made a move to scale the isle with extreme care. The shelves creaked a little but held and he managed to avoid knocking over any goods. At the very top of the unit was another, empty, thin shelf that was mainly for visual effect. Carefully balancing on this shelf, no wider than the length of his shoe, Death Bringer crouched down and with a very slow movement looked down at the central gap.

Death Bringer caught a glimpse of a humanoid with a backpack and what looked like a handgun as he scurried from isle end to isle end. The man hadn’t seen Death Bringer but nor had he been fooled by the bottle. Death Bringer hadn’t expected him to be, its purpose was a mask for his initial move onto the isle shelving. From that point of view it appeared to have worked, the man was obviously expecting to find someone either standing or crouching on the floor given his search pattern. Death Bringer was careful not to make any sudden moves that might be caught by the man’s peripheral vision.

As the man approached the last isle, the one Death Bringer was perched atop, the mechanoid pounced. Gun in his right hand, held against his chest, with his left ready to grab the stranger’s gun wrist Death Bringer sailed down, his red cloak billowed out behind him. The man’s head snapped up as he sensed the movement, his face a picture of abstract terror as he caught a glimpse of the mechanoid’s evil glare. Before the man could even think about moving his gun arm he was pinned to the ground, the wind literally being knocked out of him. Death Bringer had easily grabbed the man’s gun arm on his way down and it took no effort to smash the arm to the ground and send the gun skating across the floor. Death Bringer stopped himself from bringing his own gun up, smacking the man’s head back from under his chin - it was clear the other wasn’t about to put up much of a fight.

“Wha, wha, I…” the man tried to say something but couldn’t get the breath to form the words. Death Bringer eased his weight off his captive’s torso seeing the man beginning to turn blue. Waiting a few moments to further gauge the threat level Death Bringer stood up and took a couple of steps away from the man who appeared to be fighting back hyperventilation. Death Bringer took the pause to look about himself just to completely satisfy his assumption that he was dealing with a lone man. Sitting up the prisoner almost went into a foetal position as he tried to regain composure. He was clearly about to try and speak.

“You from the government? Thought everyone was gone…” he barely got out but was obviously cautious rather than afraid for his life now.

* Really did evacuate area, huh? Hope it was nothing I said, yes? *

“Evacuate?! No. Don’t you know?” talking was helping the man regain control of his respiration.

* Know what? * Death Bringer asked with a hint of concern.

“They’re all dead. No, worse. They’re all Borg” the man said with almost melodramatic overtones.

Never heard of these Borg, yes? Teach me to ask more questions in the future. Time Lord had a tendency not to explain things, either assumed everybody could read his mind or would promise to explain later but never did. Klingons no better, not much of a conversationalist race. Can’t imagine what their popular entertainment is like, huh? Turns out these Borg are even worse, right? Mindless drones, no conversation at all, no emotion and certainly no sense of humour, yes?!

Death Bringer thought about the stranger’s, who had introduced himself as Furman, description of the Borg. He wondered why all of a sudden the universe seemed larger than he had previously perceived. Why had he never heard of these Borg? Who were these others, Kronos and The Buccaneer? It was a time of great trouble and rediscovery but this was becoming incredible.

“We were a peaceful people before the Borg came here. It all happened so fast, like a plague. A group of scientists, of whom I was one, were doing experiments deep underground. We had to be totally cut off from civilisation and contact with the outside world. We had to be entirely self sufficient, we were planning to set up a small scientific and manufacturing colony on our largest moon. We’ve been visited by off-worlders before, many many years ago, but don’t yet have anything that goes out of system ourselves. I assume you are an off-worlder?”

* Could say that, yes? Not a social call, some kind of navigational problem I think, right? *

“Er, yes. Any idea if the whole planet has succumb to the Borg or is it localised, this continent, perhaps?”

* Sorry, no idea. Bit busy trying not to hit your planet at hypersonic speeds, yes? There were no communications to the ship or defence systems that I saw. Did leave hyperspace rather close to the planet, though, huh? *

“I might be the only one left then, the last of my race. My family, friends, everyone gone. And I didn’t know anything about it for, well probably weeks after it happened. When we realised something had happened we continued to use the underground labs as a base. We were able to detect this weird transmission, a constant thing, looks rather like a complex brain wave pattern. Two of my colleagues tracked the major source back to a giant spire in the centre of the city, the location of the regional government buildings. I assume the Borg created this massive stone-like building, maybe they didn’t like the old buildings! Not grand enough, perhaps. This spire has some very strange markings on it. Apparently they glow an eerie, slightly pulsating, colour. I haven’t seen it myself and unfortunately my colleagues didn’t make it back, only managing to radio through to us before the Borg discovered them. That left five of us. The Borg must have tracked us somehow, I’ve never seen them patrol, but suddenly three of these creatures just appeared in front of us. I’d been experimenting with the Borg signals and managed to blanket out the frequencies they use but not before the others were converted. The Borg just touched them and right before my eyes they became Borg too. I can’t even begin to explain how it works.”

* Thank you Mr. Exposition, huh?! *

“Furman.”

* Indeed, yes? What happened when you blocked the signal, huh? *

“They became disorientated, as if they’d forgotten who they were and why they’d gone to the kitchen. My first theory was that they were being controlled by that signal but each of them also seem to transmit back along it, as if together they all build up this signal. I think the spire is just a relay point. Whatever, I was able to get away and either they can’t track me or just aren’t interested in me.”

* Perhaps they know all they need to from your group, yes? *

“Could be.”

* Where do they all go when they are converted? Millions must have lived in this city, right? *

“Yes. I don’t know. Everywhere I’ve seen is deserted. I haven’t ventured into the city centre, though. I feel a bit safer on the outskirts and in the forest. I’ve got a portable jammer here should I need it, just in case.” Furman said indicating his backpack.

Death Bringer pondered the situation for a second. If the Borg had found Dilon then he is almost certainly one of them now. It may be that he could be converted back but maybe not, probably not judging from Furman’s descriptions. The Buccaneer and his group had headed off to the spire to rescue some crinkled nosed woman. If they’re not captured and converted she surely already has been. If Dilon had been captured then the spire is next best place to look.

* Seen a kid about, huh? *

Furman had detected some Borg activity around the area in the past couple of hours, right. Apparently unusual. Concluded that Dilon had been captured. No direct profit in a rescue mission, especially one almost certainly doomed to failure, but losing the kid wouldn’t do my reputation any good in Alliance circles, right? Besides, needed to locate the Buccaneer to have any realistic chance of getting off the rock before I’m old and, er, less shiny, yes? Managed to persuade Furman to help penetrate spire, right. Sadly wasn’t to be, his help that is, yes?

* Okay, willing to take time out of my busy schedule to help you destroy spire, right? *

“Er, right. Yeah, thanks. Pass that by me again, could you?”

* No time to waste, huh? Want my help or not? *

“Well, er, yes I suppose so. Destroy the spire? Yes I want to do that, I guess.”

Death Bringer thanked the universe that the man hadn’t had any company in several weeks, at least, and so easily fell for his ploy. It was a lot less messy than having to threaten him. Before either of them could continue the conversation they saw a lone figure materialise out of thin air, just outside the supermarket they still inhabited. Death Bringer was already standing, next to the checkout that Furman was perched upon. They both looked at each other, the silent conversation was obvious. Is that a Borg? Yes, that’s a Borg - let’s get the hell out of here!

The Borg was about two metres tall and of indeterminate sex. It’s skin was white with a strange mottling effect, looking as if the flesh had been dead for several weeks, which to Death Bringer’s mind it probably had. Not much of the flesh was visible, however, as much of the body was covered with metallic implants and devices almost creating an exoskeleton. Even the Borg had modesty it appeared. Almost the entire side of the face was covered with a complex metallic plate and the eye was either hidden or entirely replaced by a robotic red glowing eye. The left hand was still humanoid but a vicious looking device of unknown purpose had replaced the right one. The creature slowly, with no apparent concern that it was a sitting target, surveyed the area.

Death Bringer put a finger to his mouth, indicating silence and caution, and then pointed it down behind the checkout Furman was sitting on. The scientist nodded and gingerly eased himself off onto the floor, moving to crouch behind the checkout. Death Bringer reached around to retrieve his Titanium Shott Blaster from his back. Before either or them could complete their actions the Borg detected their movement and turned to face them. It was completely expressionless, giving no hint that the Borg collective mind was momentarily surprised at the sight of the mechanoid. The collective wanted to know more so the Borg drone moved in.

Death Bringer was himself surprised by the way the Borg just walked towards them but he was taking no chances after what he’d been told.

* Stay here. * Death Bringer told Furman who was now hiding and fumbling with something in his backpack.

“Wait, I’ll jam those signals. Damn! It’s damaged, must have been when you landed on me.”

Death Bringer ignored him and walked out of the shop towards the Borg, levelling his weapon on it as he did so. The drone appeared to be scanning the mechanoid as they approached one another. Neither was sure if the confrontation should be escalated. The drone made the first move by bringing its right ‘hand’ up towards Death Bringer. The device on the end of it started to whirr. Death Bringer took exception to this.

* Look like I need the use of a food blender, huh? * he said as he grabbed where the Borg’s wrist should be with his free left hand. The creature was stronger than Death Bringer expected and he strained to keep the appendage away. The drone then brought up it’s humanoid left hand. Death Bringer wasn’t too concerned by this and couldn’t counter with his right hand as he was holding his gun. The humanoid hand looked harmless enough. It was then that the mechanoid noticed that the backs of two of the fingers had opened up each revealing a tube jutting out. Before he could react the tubes shot out and connected with his right upper arm but there was no pain. The tubes shot back in and the Borg made to back away from the mechanoid, clearly expecting him to stop fighting back, one way or the other. Death Bringer looked down at his arm and saw some clear fluid dripping down his metal skin.

* Reproductive fluid?! And on our first date, huh? Better hope my father doesn’t hear about this, yes? * Death Bringer quipped as he moved his, now free, left hand to hover over the area, careful not to touch it. From the palm of his right hand came a jet of hydrogen cyanide, which engulfed the Borg liquid. Highly toxic cyanide fumes resulted by neither combatant was phased.

* Had better hope that doesn’t stain or you’ll be hearing from my lawyers, yes? * Death Bringer said with total malice as he blew a hole through the drone’s stomach at point blank range with his blaster. The Borg was literally taken of its feet by the blast, almost doubling up as it flew back nearly two metres to land flat on its back. Death Bringer went back to resting the barrel of his gun in his left hand and looked down at his wet arm.

* If I start growing organic parts I’ll be most upset, right? * he said to no one in particular. It was then the Borg began to sit up, daylight clearly visible through it’s torso. Death Bringer’s eyebrows raised in a look of complete incredulity.

* Don’t tell me, you’re hungry, right? * He strode over to the Borg just as it was standing up from a prone position and aimed his gun at its mouth.

* Here, have some of this, full of titanium goodness, yes? * he said as he pulled the trigger. The jaw went one way, the head another and the decapitated body fell before the mechanoid’s feet. Death Bringer rarely took pleasure in this kind of work, he was a businessman pure and simple not a psychotic. This time he his reaction was clearly in the ‘that was far too easy’ category.

Death Bringer was about to call out to Furman when two more Borg materialised, right next to the mechanoid. Death Bringer went to swing his gun around on the closest but the Borg whipped its prosthetic arm up, as a club, and knocked Death Bringer’s gun clean out of his hand.

Thought it was too easy, yes? After hearing about the Borg, after seeing the deserted city, instincts told me that the first Borg was too easy by far. Furman couldn’t have helped, only hindered, had to get the Borg away from him until he could repair his jammer, yes? These Borg weren’t equipped with projectile weapons so it was an easy task to lure them into a department store to make things interesting, right?

Death Bringer stood in the sports department in the most casual pose the mechanoid could muster. His Titanium Shott blaster remained out on the concourse after being trampled by one of the Borg, though didn’t look badly damaged. He still had his Vibroaxe, Vibromace, wrist knives, a short profile spear and a heat signature missile (about the size of a fold up umbrella, which fitted into the stump left by his removable right hand). He didn’t want to use these, at least not yet. It was time for a bit of fun.

* Ah, been wondering where you had got to, huh? * Death Bringer called out to the two Borg as they lurched into view.

* Take your time. Need to occupy you until Furman fixes his jammer, yes? * the mechanoid added as his foes slowly approached him. He reached down and picked up a device that appear to be some kind of projectile shooter, designed to be tripod mounted. On the top was a cone shaped basket filled with fist sized silver globes. He pressed a button on the side of the machine and suddenly it was shooting out the contents of the basket directly at the lead Borg. As the first connected with its target it exploded into a mass of red and orange energy tendrils that engulfed the Borg. Death Bringer looked even more surprised than his opponents did.

* Hmm, could get to like these natives, yes? Interesting pastimes they have, huh? * Death Bringer said as the salvo knocked the now trailing Borg to the floor. He swung the launcher around to aim at the second creature for the last few globes. The instant before the first hit a translucent panel appeared before the Borg, shielding it from the impact and resultant energy release. Death Bringer scowled.

* Personal energy shield, huh? High tech, not many battledroids even have one of those, yes? * The mechanoid threw the now empty launcher across the room in disgust, aimed directly at the first Borg who was now making to stand up again. The unfortunate drone just watched the launcher fly towards its head, unable to bring its arms up to protect itself without falling back to the floor. The hefty piece of sporting equipment slammed home and again the Borg was sprawled out on its back.

Death Bringer ran past a couple of displays and stopped at an archery section, picking up a solid traditional looking bow and then a hefty modern looking arrow. The arrow looked more like a rocket in many respects, with a thick tubular construction, four small triangular fins at the back and a lethal looking long thin coned spike on the front. Death Bringer carefully positioned the heavy arrow in the bow and gently drew it back. There was a bleep. It came from the arrow that now felt like it was buzzing with energy. Death Bringer suddenly looked very happy indeed.

The arrow sprung from the bow on a true course for the Borg that was approaching on Death Bringer. The fallen Borg was again trying to stand up but despite all the mechanical implants was looking a little shaky. Death Bringer frowned as the arrow suddenly swerved off the heading he gave it. His frown turned into another scowl as the missile did a complete 180° turn, heading his way with intent.

At the last second before impact the mechanoid side stepped and the kamikaze arrow shoot past him. Death Bringer looked over his shoulder and saw what he knew would happen – the arrow was already swinging around to lock back onto him.

* World of the sporting masochists, huh? * Death Bringer commented to himself, promising not to mess with any of the other fun looking equipment. He again waited until the last moment before diving forwards towards the base of a display and the arrow whooshed past, narrowly missing the rapidly approaching Borg drone. The mechanoid eased himself up from his push-up position into a prone one and prepared to sprint to the next display, a few metres away, back the way he had come. With his usual impeccable timing Death Bringer pounced forward into a sprint just as the arrow came in to hit him from behind at a forty-five degree angle. It sailed past and skimmed the edge of the display, knocking over a mannequin holding a stuffed animal of some description.

As Death Bringer ran full throttle towards the perceived cover of the next display something lurched in front of him. The first Borg had picked itself up and, still slightly unsteadily, moved in to intercept the mechanoid. Before either could react Death Bringer had unintentionally rugby tackled the luckless creature and it tumbled forward, landing full force on its face. Death Bringer was sent into a head over heals roll and smashed unceremoniously into the display of sporting attire which buried him.

* No more Mister nice mechanoid, yes? * he whispered under his breath. Death Bringer had had enough. His sense of humour was rapidly evaporating, almost as quickly as his desire to toy with these creatures. Still hidden under the various multicoloured garments he reached around and retrieved his shield and vibromace from his back. Within seconds he had removed his right hand and snapped in the mace. Knowing timing for this was more critical than ever he eased himself up out of the destroyed display and hoped for the best. The arrow was heading straight for him, he pulled his round shield up over most of his face and peered over the top. Going on instinct alone Death Bringer waited for the arrow to be just in front of him and brought his readied right arm, with mace, smack into the side of the tubular arrow. It went off in a wild spin, missing his shield by the smallest of margins.

The downed Borg had used the intervening time to stand again. It looked around to find the unknown element, Death Bringer, and saw him a few metres away just as he batted the arrow. The drone felt an odd sense of confusion and then outright panic as, without warning, the Collective went silent. Before it could even begin to understand what had happened the arrow had spun its way and the long pointed front had embedded itself in the right of the drone’s chest.

Death Bringer looked on, feeling his luck begin to return, as the stricken Borg went to grab the now beeping arrow. The beeping was speeding up rapidly. There was a dull thud as the arrow exploded. Bits of Borg and arrow spread around the vicinity. The drone managed to look down upon its shattered body as it fell to its knees. It registered that its left forearm, right shoulder and arm, along with a sizeable portion of the right of its torso was gone. The lonely drone did all it knew how to, it expired.

* Damn, wanted to keep you alive, prevent more reinforcements coming, yes? * Death Bringer called out to the corpse. He resigned himself to having to battle a small army of Borg and wondered if they might be open to bribes.

“I got it working!” shouted Furman as he finally located Death Bringer. The mechanoid looked up from the newly terminated Borg and saw the funny little scientist approach. Hot on the heels of Furman was the other Borg. Death Bringer was beginning to wonder what had happened to it. It too looked disorientated but it was managing to stretch its arm out towards its victim.

* Fur- * Death Bringer began to shout a warning to Furman but it was too late. The Borg’s humanoid hand had already touched Furman’s neck and the mechanoid could see the tubes had already done their job. Furman turned with a fright and knew he was already dead.

“Darn! Darn the luck! Darn…” he tailed off as he mind began to cloud. His skin began to pale and metallic implants began to burst out. The device that Furman had been carrying in his hands fell to the ground but didn’t seem to be damaged. Furman twisted as he let out a cry of pain. The remnants of his mind calmly analysed its predicament and surmised something was wrong with the conversion. Part of him expected to hear voices, to become something greater. His developing systems called out for commands, for directions. There was only silence. The conversion accelerated out of control. Systems conflicted. Chaos was let loose. Then there was nothing.

Death Bringer watched as the drone’s, Furman’s, head hit the floor before the body even registered the loss. It rolled across the shinny floor for a way and the body finally fell beside it. Death Bringer raised his right arm, now sporting a vibroaxe instead of its earlier vibromace, and readied it to decapitate the remaining Borg.

* Look a little out of sorts there, huh? Doctor’s prescription? Surgery, yes? * he joked as he brought the axe clean through the drone’s neck. It was reaching out with its humanoid hand, obviously intending to convert Death Bringer. The body fell forwards and Death Bringer had to step back to avoid being hit.

* That’s it, get plenty of rest, right? * he said as he went over to retrieve the jammer and make his way out of the centre, not forgetting to pick up the weapons he had strewn across the place.

Had some more information now, yes? Still no sign of Dilon but at this stage was sure he’d been captured. Either way, next destination was the central spire, at least there was a chance of meeting The Buccaneer and getting off this world, huh? Didn’t rate their chances against these Borg, single touch and they would be another drone, right?

Made my way out to the speeder park and, er, requisitioned a vehicle. Didn’t take too long to get one going, controls were simple enough. Encountered no further resistance on the way to the spire, yes? Roads were empty of active traffic. No sign of any other survivors. Made sure I kept the jammer with me, yes?

Death Bringer double-checked the jammer before closing it into the backpack he had retrieved from Furman’s body and gently slung it over his right shoulder. He looked back at the sleek hover vehicle he had just left and took in the rest of the surrounding area. Finally, his gaze settled on the giant beige rock spire with its eerie glowing symbols. Standing at the foot of the structure he was struck by the sheer size of it, each symbol alone must have been at least twice his height, probably more like three of four times. Over a thousand metres tall in all, he couldn’t really make out the top this close to it. It didn’t fit in with any of the surrounding buildings but if he hadn’t known better he would have sworn it predated the rest of the city with its timeless aura. There were absolutely no signs of disturbance to the surrounding buildings, roads, or anything. No indication of construction work. The thing that most disturbed Death Bringer, however, was the silence. The whole world, or what he had seen of it, had this unnerving silence to it but here it was almost tangible. The silence enveloped him, and everything else around the spire, like a choking fog. It was as if time itself was afraid to make its presence felt.

There was also no indication that The Buccaneer, his Klingon friends or Dilon had ever been out here, nor anyone else for that matter. Death Bringer found himself feeling more than a little apprehensive, a feeling he was less than accustomed to having. There were no guards, no indications of life, only a single large door. It was clearly hewn from the same rock as the rest of the spire. It was the only evident join in the rock, the rest of the spire appearing to be cut from one, very very large, piece of stone. It was a massive door, on a grand scale in keeping with the rest of the spire. There was no obvious mechanism for opening the door, it was just a plain slab of rock slightly recessed from the face of the spire. Death Bringer took one last look around before venturing towards the door.

There was the sound of rock against rock as the door slowing drew up of its own accord. Beyond was a brightly-lit corridor made of the same material that curved off to the left in the far distance. There was no discernible source for the light inside - no windows, glowing patches, just an even omnipresent natural light. Death Bringer cautiously entered the corridor into the massive building. There was no resistance, no alarms, nothing. Under normal circumstances Death Bringer would suspect a trap. Very little of this ‘mission’ could have been considered normal, even for the mechanoid.

Several minutes passed as Death Bringer followed the corridor around, deeper and deeper into the structure. Occasionally he would pass a door. They were all flush to the wall and made of the same material. Again, they had no features and appeared to have been created by simply cutting a door shape into the stone. None opened as he approached. He tried to apply pressure to the first few but no matter what he tried they wouldn’t open. The floor had a very slight gradient, almost unnoticeable, but Death Bringer was in no doubt that he was moving up the spire.

He came to a large square room. It was no taller than the corridors, only about five metres, which for its size made the ceiling look quite low and claustrophobic. There were three other exits, one directly opposite the one Death Bringer entered through plus one on the middle of the wall to his left and another to the right. The most striking feature of the room was the large solid wooden table. It too was square. There were three simple wooden chairs around each side. The presence of the furniture surprised the mechanoid. They were the first items he had seen inside the spire besides the corridor and odd door. They also felt completely out of place. Not so much out of place for the surroundings but out of place for the Borg, not that he had actually seen one in the spire. The more he thought about it the more he realised that the whole spire just didn’t seem to reflect the Borg in any way, at least not the few drones he had met. The spire had an ancient quality, almost mythic. What he had heard and seen of the Borg suggested constant change and a constant striving to conquer and assimilate. Something just didn’t ring true for him.

The mechanoid decided to take a quick look through the exits to his left and right before continuing back on his original course. Death Bringer chose the left-hand passage first. From the passage three figures rushed towards Death Bringer wielding large deadly looking blades. As the lead figure swooped in bringing its crescent shaped blade down onto Death Bringer from above the mechanoid quickly changed tack. The smell identified his attackers even before his visual system had a chance. From his usual defensive/offensive reaction he shifted to purely defensive, hoping they had just mistaken him instead of being genuine in their assault. Having to kill them would very likely damage his chances of easily getting off this strange world. The blade savagely flew down towards the top of his skull. A powerful blow if it hit but it was a poorly executed move, opportunistic rather than considered, and Death Bringer had no trouble bringing his arms up between the two his opponent was using to hold the Bat’telh. Before the Klingon knew what was happening his arms were wrenched apart, his left hand losing grip of the weapon and his right only just managing to retain hold of it. The Bat’telh harmlessly came down to Death Bringer’s left and the end impacted the stone floor. The mechanoid’s left foot lashed out at the alien sword, hitting it directly half way up its length, below where the Klingon’s right hand still gripped it. The force of the kick was enough to dislodge the alien’s unsteady grip on the weapon and the Bat’telh crashed to the ground with Death Bringer’s left foot firmly planted on top of it.

The other two Klingons stopped their intended attacks before they began. The next move was up to their comrade who had been disarmed, even dishonoured if he so chose. The Klingon’s eyes flared at Death Bringer. The mechanoid returned the favour with the best glare he could muster and if there was a facial expression he was good at it was glaring (and, perhaps, looking surprised). He didn’t know much about these Klingons but he suspected that they would prefer someone that went toe to toe with them, which was just as well as he always had trouble pretending to be intimidated. He wasn’t disappointed - the Klingon’s snarl turned into an only slightly less unpleasant smile. The other two took their cue from this and yelled some form of guttural growl that Death Bringer took to be their variety of cheer.

“You fight well, my friend!” the lead Klingon enthused at Death Bringer whilst thumping the mechanoid’s arm repeatedly with his open hand. In the small backpack Death Bringer wore something clicked out of place on Furman’s jammer. The blinking lights it maintained died.

* Get a bit of practice every now and then, yes? * Death Bringer said whilst reaching down to pick up the Bat’telh he had just removed his foot from.

* Very quiet around here, er… * the mechanoid added as he passed back the weapon to his new comrade.

“K’pree, son of K’orteena! Yes, very quiet. Much disappointed no chance to kill anything yet. You dispatched any Borg, er…” the Klingon added, hoping he had understood how to ask for someone’s name.

* Death Bringer, son of * he paused for a second considering if the names of his parents were at all relevant to who he was today and even if they were if he should say them anyway, * a bitch. * he said deciding upon discretion.

The scriptwriters of these Klingon’s wouldn’t win any awards for their dialogue, yes? Wasn’t too long before we ran into the Borg. Row upon row of them lining the sides of the corridor, right? Strange thing was they didn’t seem to notice us. Not the most gracious of hosts but I’ve known far worse, yes?!

“Why don’t they attack?” K’pree called out, sounding both nervous and disappointed at the same time. The other two Klingons made an odd grunting noise. Death Bringer took this to either be their version of a shrug or an attempt to dislodge some kind of mucus from their throats, perhaps trying to improve the oxygen flow to their clearly starved brains.

The original stone of the corridor could just about be made out in places, the ceiling and floor were visible but the rest was covered in Borg equipment and odd little alcoves where a Borg could be seen standing statue-like. So far they had already passed about two hundred of the creatures since they first entered this section of the spire. Each and every one of them had remained motionless as they passed. Death Bringer was beginning to feel his guard go down after initially expecting an immediate fight when he first saw them in the distance. He didn’t feel in the least bit comfortable but he couldn’t help feeling they might not now attack at all. Part of his mind rebelled in disgust at his building confidence. It was too easy. The Borg could be waiting for them to get too far in to be able to battle their way out. His instincts began to ring alarm bells somewhere deep in his psyche.

“Should I kill one? Make me nervous these things…” K’pree growled to Death Bringer who appeared to be ignoring him, instead wondering if he could trust the jammer not knowing it had stopped working.

* Can see the headline now: ‘Honourable Klingon Warrior Kills Undefending Borg’, yes? Not to mention the political fallout ‘Evil Klingon state kills one of our innocent civilians, says Borg Foreign Minister.’ * mocked Death Bringer.

“Would you mock me, scum!?” roared the vocal Klingon, the surrounding Borg not even displaying the slightest hint of a smile, or any other reaction, they just stood there trance-like.

* Wouldn’t dream of it, right? Want to get yourself killed go right ahead but I’ll be on their side, yes? No point getting slaughtered to calm your nerves - no profit in it. * Death Bringer said evenly. K’pree relented as the small rational part of his mind got the rare chance to be dominant.

They continued in further. Ahead the corridor opened out into another chamber. It was different to the previous one, about the same size but there were no other corridor exits, only doors, six on the three other walls. The lined up Borg stopped at the edge of the corridor and the chamber itself had no hints of Borg technology. As they entered all four of them turned around to face the Borged corridor and slowly backed deeper into the room. Each was expected some kind of reaction. No reaction or attack came from the Borg.

“Keep eye on them!” K’pree ordered the other two Klingons as he joined Death Bringer in examining one of the featureless doors. The two Klingons readied their Bat’telhs and stood side by side in front of the corridor opening looking at the mannequinesque Borg.

“Stand back! Knock it down I will!” K’pree said triumphantly indicating the door, as if he had already accomplished his task. Death Bringer rolled his eyes again knowing full well that even he couldn’t budge a slab of stone like that, let alone this smelly organic having a chance. The Klingon passed the mechanoid his Bat’telh and took a very theatrical run up to the door. Death Bringer put a hand to his face in despair as the Klingon slammed into the rock. Instead of rebounding as the mechanoid had expected K’pree just stayed there for a second plastered against the wall. The Klingon’s knees began to buckle beneath him and he slowly slid down the door into a heap. Death Bringer began to wonder if he somehow attracted the universe’s fools or if everyone was now like that. As the other two Klingons, now looking at their comrade, performed their guttural growl cheer he came to the conclusion that it wasn’t him. Probably something to do with the population explosion.

Before he had formulated a working theory as to how there is a finite amount of intelligence to go around all the beings in the universe there was a cry. A very muffled but nonetheless distinct humanoid cry for help. He couldn’t make out the word or words but the tone was obvious and it also sounded as if it could possibly be female or young male. He looked back at the two Klingons by the entrance but they had gone back to their guard duties not having heard anything. It repeated and Death Bringer was able to guess which door was hiding the prisoner. In that instant he felt a renewed hope that Dilon might indeed still be alive and himself, he might even be within a few metres. Suddenly his day was beginning to get a little better. If he could save Dilon and bring back valuable information about the Borg then his lucrative deal with the Rebels may yet be saved.

By this time was beginning to feel tricked into coming here, yes? No sign of the Timelord, the Sot’m or the chief Klingon. Other Klingons knew nothing of their whereabouts, either. Gut feeling was that something was very wrong. Instincts that are rarely wrong told me to get out now before whatever was going to happen did happen. Several hundred Borg drones between the dead-end chamber and the exit to the spire. Several hundred Borg that could turn any second, yes? If I were a gambling mechanoid I would already have left, right? Gambling is a loser’s game but I have been known to take a few risks for the chance of profit!

“It moved…” K’pree said as he struggled to stand. “No door withstand the might…” the Klingon staggered violently to his side, “of K’pree twice hitting…” he staggered again, this time ending up leaning on the door in question, “er, me mighty Klingon warrior you…” he trailed off waving his finger at the door.

Death Bringer, now over the other side of the chamber, tried his hardest to ignore the concussed Klingon and concentrate on the door hiding the now silent cry. He was careful not to touch it or the surrounding wall. For now he was content to try and see through the tiny crack that was all that signified a door was there at all. No light could be seen, no smells or airflow could be detected by him, going just on his own senses. Without special equipment he could determine nothing of what was beyond or even if there was anything beyond at all.

There was a thump from behind him and another chorus of approval from the two guarding Klingons. Death Bringer couldn’t stop himself glancing over to see K’pree again sliding down the unyielding door.

On an impulse Death Bringer pressed his right palm against the door in front of himself. He didn’t expect it to open but did hope to sense movement, heat or something. He was, therefore, mildly surprised when the door did indeed swing open and presented to him a small room with a single, female, occupant.

“Well about bloody time!” the woman said in a less than friendly manner whilst blinking against the sudden bright light pouring into her cell. “I was beginning to think you pathetic federation types would never turn up…” the end of her sentence began to sound more like a question than the angry statement it began as. She squinted at the large silvery figure in the doorway. “Who are you? You’re not Federation or Klingon?”

Death Bringer looked about the small room. A mattress on the floor and a stone plate with remnants of a meal were the only items in the room. This struck him as a little odd. He had seen many types of cells in various prisons, penal colonies, dungeons, the lot. He had almost lost count of the number of people he had rescued from such places (almost always for a handsome fee) but this, like the rest of this planet, was wrong. He’d seen cells with fewer amenities before but never looking so unlived in. Never without that characteristic organic ‘fingerprint’. The woman may as well have been put in there a couple of hours ago.

* Federation? Name’s Death Bringer. Freelance Peace Keeping Agent, yes? * Death Bringer announced in his usual even tone.

“‘Death Bringer’? Now there’s a name to reassure someone needing rescuing. Freelance? I assume you’re not working for them?” she looked up and around herself, rising from her siting position on the mattress. Rising a little too quickly to Death Bringer’s mind.

* No, working for myself, yes? Lending a hand to those Klingon’s you mentioned - purely for personal gain I assure you. Don’t mind me mentioning, you look in good health for a prisoner? Recently captured, huh? * It was then, as she stopped squinting, that he noticed the bridge of her nose didn’t uncrumple with the rest of the skin around her eyes. * You must be that Bajoran I heard mention of, right? * The Bajoran who must have been a prisoner for several days, at least, Death Bringer thought to himself.

“You mean you aren’t here to rescue me? I don’t believe it! Those damn fools, were they just going to let me rot in here. Let the Borg do what they will with me?” she said furiously.

Before Death Bringer could reply to the fuming Bajoran he was buffeted aside by the now even more concussed K’pree.

“Out of K’pree’s way you son of a silver worm!” he growled at Death Bringer, sounding for all the world like a drunkard.

“Oh my god. This is my rescue team? A man in a silver spandex costume calling himself ‘Death Bringer’ and a washed up smelly old Klingon warrior… Good to see only finest people are sent to… get us all killed!” she said again raising her voice, just in case the rest of the spire’s inhabitants didn’t already know something was happening.

Death Bringer again cursed his luck and considered relaxing his rule on never killing for pleasure.

* Shut up, yes! Seen a kid, about seventeen, looks young for his age, short, blond mop of hair, goes by the name of Dilon, huh? * Death Bringer was beginning to get angry and decided to stop messing about with the fools he had been subjected to.

“Woah! Keep your horns on handsome! No I haven’t seen any kid, does it look like I’ve had many visitors? Why don’t you just get me outta here and get your reward money. I’m sure it’ll be more than enough to keep you in polish for the rest of your loathsome life.” The Bajoran said pointedly to Death Bringer. He just returned the best glare he could muster.

“Forget kid, Borgy… Borgy…” K’pree was still having more than his usual trouble with words, “Borgy… Fied!”.

“No you ugly ape, Borg do not assimilate individuals. That’s probably why I’m still me - ” she was interrupted by a mechanoid snide remark.

* Borg have more sense that I gave them credit for, can just imagine you arguing in their collective, huh? Not sure about the ‘not assimilating individuals’, though. Have seen them try it once already, yes? *

Torell Jarnn, the Bajoran woman, strolled out of the cell, past Death Bringer and K’pree, to stand in the centre of the chamber. She spun around, giving an air of owning the place, and sized up the mechanoid and lead Klingon from her new vantagepoint. “Look, they might, er convert the occasional individual who gets in the way but they knew I was someone important. They kidnapped me specifically, which just shows you how important I really am. They don’t go around kidnapping people for the fun of it. Anyone would think they were a bunch of Romulans grabbing everyone who ever attempted to visit Risa! No, they wanted me for a special reason and no I don’t know what that is. Just get me safely away from here.” Torell promptly strutted past the two guarding Klingons and into the Borg lined corridor.

Death Bringer turned his glare on K’pree who just looked back, cross-eyed.

Taking a final look around the chamber Death Bringer moved to the next nearest door and pressed his palm against it in the same way as before. Nothing happened. K’pree mimicked him with the next door along, still there was no reaction.

“Get a move on then, these things give me the creeps!” shouted Torell from somewhere down the corridor. Death Bringer decided that Dilon or no Dilon it was probably a good time to leave. He’d found the woman The Buccaneer was after and that should be enough to get him off the planet. There was no real indication Dilon had ever gone anywhere near the spire, anyway. He hoped he would find him back at the Prestinium should he get the chance to pick it up. Having made his decision he followed the grating Bajoran back into the corridor that would eventually lead them all out. K’pree followed, somewhat unsteadily, and his two colleagues joined them as they passed.

The group continued for several minutes in silence. A silence that Death Bringer was now beginning to appreciate. It was still unnerving seeing the Borg drones lined up along the walls, perfectly still, perfectly silent. It was as if they were all dead. He also had the strangest feeling about the Bajoran. He couldn’t pin down what the feeling was but whenever he got close to her he felt a chill yet he was sure the temperature was constant. He assumed it must be the building. The ancient, mysterious place was filling his imagination with timeless creatures, a god-like civilisation hiding from the gaze or mere mortals, waiting patiently to reinherit the universe and return to their rightful place in it. Like ghosts they were watching his every move, silently following, hiding in the shadows. If they chose to attack he would have as much chance of harming them as he would were they really dark spirits. His cries would echo through the unwelcoming corridors for eternity. He shook his head trying to clear his mind of such thoughts. He was determined to focus and stay alert. It was no time to submit to childish fears.

Torell lead the team, striding confidently a couple of metres ahead of Death Bringer. behind him K’pree and his two colleagues. The three of them were more subdued than ever before, noticeably more so than their first walk along this stretch of corridor. Something was wrong, unnatural and they could all sense it. All but Torell who continued as if she didn’t have a care in the world. They approached the end of the Borg infestation, beyond was clear stone walls of the corridor that would lead to the tabled chamber in which Death Bringer and the Klingons had met.

The four warriors all tensed as they came up towards the last few Borg, all anticipating a surprise assault. They were not disappointed. For the first time since their arrival the Borg drones began to show signs of life, or functioning. All the Borg in the corridor jerked. Whirring noises came from their mechanical appendages and they, as one, took a single step from their respective alcoves. The three Klingons bellowed a war cry and raised their savage weapons. Torell in an instant was sprinting down the corridor away from the cyborged creatures and Death Bringer didn’t waste time in deciding to join her. He had no intention of facing several hundred of the undead.

“Today is a good day to die!” shouted one of the Klingons as he somehow managed to cut the legs out from underneath an approaching drone.

* Right now is a good time to exercise those leg muscles, yes?! * Death Bringer called out as he continued after Torell but he doubted they had the intelligence to understand the concept of overwhelming odds. Sure enough they ignored him and continued their futile resistance. Death Bringer briefly wondered why the jammer wasn’t having any noticeable effect but put the thought to the back of his mind - better to just get out.

It wasn’t long before Torell came to an abrupt halt and Death Bringer skidded to a stop nearly on top of her. He immediately and completely automatically stepped back from her when he had that sudden sensation of danger again.

“Any of that fancy equipment on your back any good for getting through rock doors?” she wheezed, her face practically the same shade as her red hair.

Death Bringer studied the obstruction. It looked like every other door he had seen in the building but this one had somehow appeared since they last passed the area, cutting off the corridor. They were trapped. Judging from how far they had run Death Bringer guessed that the first chamber was directly behind the door. He touched a round pouch on his belt and considered the effects of using an explosive charge in such an environment. He didn’t like the idea one little bit.

“Well? We are all going to die here - do something! Are you always such scintillating company?” regaining her breath brought about the return of her bad temper.

* Not my usual cheery self, yes? Had rather a bad day. Tends to affect one’s sense of humour, yes? *

“You’ve had a bad day?!” she exclaimed, moving aside to let Death Bringer approach the rock barrier.

Minutes later a large thud shook the entire area and echoed off down the corridor as Death Bringer remote detonated the explosive charge he had placed on the offending door. A thick cloud of smoke and dust swept towards them, engulfing them. Death Bringer and Torell lay on the floor quite some way back from the door with their arms covering their heads. The mechanoid was the first to move as he pulled himself up into a crouching position. For an instant he thought he saw shapes moving in the dust cloud but dismissed it as an effect of the blast. The major part of the dust cloud settled within seconds as a fine beige blanket. Death Bringer prodded Torell with his finger but there was no reaction. It was clear the shock wave had knocked her out. He prayed it was nothing serious, this was clearly not one of those cases where ‘wanted dead or alive’ applied.

Death Bringer turned Torell over and saw she was still breathing, though not as easily as he would like thanks to the dust. He hoisted her up over his shoulder, careful not to injure her on any of his weapons. Holding her in place with his left arm he readied his Titanium Shott Blaster in his right hand. From down the corridor he heard the scuffled footsteps of a single individual running towards him. It was K’pree.

“They’ve adapted!” K’pree roared as he rushed towards them.

* Seen sense at last, huh? Not such a good day to die? *

“The others died honourably but nobody left to kill me before me turned to Borg! It would also be great dishonour to fail my mission, especially if dead and unable to regain honour later.” K’pree was clearly starting to regain his senses thanks to his adrenaline laced blood. Death Bringer considered how such an ‘honourable’ person could so casually twist the concepts of honour and dishonour to suit his circumstances. He couldn’t but help to think of politicians.

Death Bringer led the way towards the blown out door and, hopefully, freedom. Most of the smoke and dust had cleared and there was relatively little rubble, on their side at least. As they approached the door it was clear the explosive had done its job. The lower third remained intact and roughly in the same place as before but the rest was gone. The stone was about fifteen centimetres thick and large pieces of it were piled up at the foot of the door. Beyond was the first chamber with the big wooden table. Besides chunks of rock it looked identical to the last time Death Bringer had seen it, with one exception. The room was filled with Borg.

* Just gets better and better, yes? * Death Bringer said to nobody in particular. He paused for a second, deep in thought. The single ‘safety grenade’ he had on him might kill one or two Borg and knock a few more over for a few seconds but wasn’t up to the task of dealing with a couple of dozen. He also had two Thermal Detonators on him. These were the kind of devices used to bring down heavily armoured combat vehicles. Without a doubt the entire chamber would be vaporised and he wouldn’t fair much better in the corridor.

* Maybe it isn’t such a bad day to die, after all, huh? How fast can you run? * the mechanoid asked K’pree.

“Fast enough.” K’pree replied as Death Bringer handed him his blaster and produced a small black and silver sphere from somewhere on his belt. The sphere began to bleep rhythmically as Death Bringer slid some kind of switch on the device. Putting as much force into the throw as he could he released the explosive device through the shattered doorway and on into the Borg riddled chamber. None of the drones took the slightest interest as the Thermal Detonator sailed over their heads and landed near to the opposite wall.

Death Bringer was already turning to run when he noticed they were not alone. The Borg from the corridor had all but caught up with them and blocked their way back into the depths of the spire. The Thermal Detonator continued bleeping its stark warning that everyone in the vicinity was about to die.

* Perfect end to a perfect day, yes? * Death Bringer concluded as he realised he now had no chance of getting far enough away to survive the blast.

The seconds ticked away, each lasting longer than he had known for a long time. The Borg on both sides, in perspective slow motion, advanced on the three of them. Torell, still over his left shoulder quietly moaned but wasn’t quite yet ready to return to full consciousness. K’pree passed Death Bringer’s blaster back and readied his Bat’leh in both hands. The two warriors accepted their fate.

Funny how impending death can sometimes prompt feats completely beyond you the rest of the time, yes? Funnier still how sometimes it doesn’t. This was such a time. Resigned to die on an unknown planet, working with unknown (and rather foul smelling in the Klingon’s case) people for no clear profit. Never again to experience the fun of the chase, yes? Sometimes you just feel grateful to see the end, a release from the petty annoyances, right? No more worrying about the state of one’s cloak! Having prepared for the inevitable it came as another irritation that someone should take it upon themselves to snatch us from the jaws of death, yes? Not that I really minded being saved but they would leave it to the last second, that second in life that is reserved for making trousers proverbially brown, right?

Just as the Thermal Detonator bleeped off its last tick and began the massive chain reaction it had been designed for something happened that left Death Bringer feeling more than a little surprised. The air around him, he couldn’t tell for how far, began to shimmer and electrify. Red vertical streaks appeared and expanded before him. An odd whining noise filled his ears. The corridor faded behind the strangest sparkling shimmering silver substance he had and would ever again encounter. In the last few milliseconds of being able to make out the inside of the spire he saw, and almost felt, the most intense orange pass right through him. Before he could contemplate if he was experiencing death the shimmering faded back out, the red streaks thinned back down to nothingness and normality returned. Except that he was now somewhere completely different.

“Captain, I have them, ” the Klingon transporter chief announced over the intercomm. “I detected some strange readings in the matter stream, however.”

* THAT IS LIKELY DUE TO THE EXPLOSION JUST DETECTED * Cre’at interjected, standing, or rather hovering, to the side of the transporter chief. Death Bringer remained absolutely motionless on the large cargo transporter, trying to take in what just happened.

“DB? You okay?” asked Dilon from the corner of the large room. Death Bringer turned his head to see his young colleague. He also took in the fact that all three of them had apparently been saved from the Thermal Detonator blast. Torell was still on his shoulder and K’pree was standing in the exact same relative position he was moments ago. Besides them he saw another Klingon, behind some kind of console, Cre’at to his side and Dilon cowering in the corner.

“Captain, this K’pree, have rescued Bajoran female from Borg” K’pree called out, appearing to address the room rather than any individual. He walked towards the edge of the large raised platform the three of them occupied.

* If this is the afterlife I want my money back, yes? * Death Bringer said looking at Dilon.

“No, don’t be silly, you’re not dead. These people have the technology to transport things from one place to another, even through solid walls!” Dilon said enthusiastically.

* IT IS A PRIMITIVE TECHNOLOGY. NEARLY INCAPABLE OF TELEPORTING YOU THROUGH SPIRE WALLS, EVEN WITH THEIR DEFENCES DOWN. THEY HAD TO INDESCRIMINATELY TAKE EVERYTHING FROM YOUR AREA. * said Cre’at in his usual mechanical monotone. Death Bringer looked about him and noticed the rubble still about his feet and stretching a few metres all around. Some of the dust layer accompanied them, as did the some of the remnants of the dust cloud. Judging by the smell and architecture Death Bringer surmised he was on some kind of Klingon spacecraft.

* I take it that it is too much to hope for decent washing machine around here, yes? * Death Bringer asked, looking down at the sorry state of his red cloak.

******************

The Collective continued, unfazed by the loses. The voices were diminished but the lost minds, somehow, remained. Each mind playing in tune. Harmonies within harmonies. Except one. A single mind whose influence was disproportionate. Influencing. Chanting its own unique thoughts.

We must serve the machine. We must serve the machine that is the universe.

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: Two to Tangle

After an unfortunate set of events, too painful to reiterate, found myself stuck on a Klingon starbase. The Prestinium in need of serious repairs, so agreed to help the Klingons on a recon mission, yes? Sounded like a fair trade for the repair work, besides got me away from the numerous, er, interesting smells to be found around them - or so I thought, huh?

“How are you doing DB?” asked Dilon, looking a little less green than he had an hour earlier but still looking like he had just tasted something exceedingly foul.

* ‘Death Bringer’, right? * he corrected for the umpteenth time. * Fine... * he said in a tone that suggested anything but as he tried to shift his not inconsiderable bulk in the tiny metal, unpadded and extremely uncomfortable, high armed swivel chair. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed it was some form of torture device.

Dilon sat upright from his slump in an identical chair, which fitted the seventeen year old’s slightly under-average frame perfectly. He turned back to looking out of the small viewport to his left and tried to concentrate on the streaks of starlight as they sped past. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to block them out, the pungent smells of the stifling Klingon craft continued their onslaught on his senses.

Had to endure that journey for almost twelve hours, yes? When first told about the ship had assumed they were joking. Assumed wrong, huh? Still, interesting design - little more than a large energy cannon with small control room bolted on the back. Was a little worrying that the cannon also acted as the propulsion system, didn’t give the smoothest of rides, yes?

Lack of facilities onboard was perhaps unsurprising given the cramped conditions. Environment wasn’t helped by the fact the owner appeared to live onboard. Absence of bathroom facilities probably explained the, er, distinctive odours cultivated by the captain, yes?

The captain was a grisly old Klingon, fairly small as Klingons go but stocky with it and had a tangible air of insanity around him. He had growled away to himself for most of the journey but the other two had thought it best to ignore him. Ignore him when they could, at any rate. It was particularly difficult when they witnessed the revolting sight of him drop his trousers and squat in the corner over a bucket. Given the ship basically comprised of the one room it was inevitable that some luxuries had to go but Death Bringer couldn’t help but think the almost overflowing bucket should have been emptied before they left. Death Bringer was also glad he didn’t eat, as such, given the little galley area shared the same corner as the makeshift latrine

“Nearly there. Engaging cloak.” growled Ki’yak, who was sitting in another identical chair just in front of Dilon and Death Bringer, only this one was surrounded by worn out looking control panels.

The Klingon leaned forwards and pulled a rusty looking lever. There was a shudder. The lights flickered, as did the artificial gravity. Dilon gasped - which he instantly regretted as the rancid air made him choke and retch. Even Death Bringer shifted uneasily in his chair, as best he could, anyway. They were both aware, as they had been since they left, that this junk pile of a ship was all that stood between them and death in the endless void. Given how ill he had felt for the entire journey Dilon was actually praying for death at one point but the sudden reality shook that out of him.

After a few seconds of tension, broken only by a couple of loud, laboured, sounding Klingon breaths, the lights blinked back on, though a lot darker than before. The gravity also felt a great deal lighter.

Ki’yak again reached forward in the gloom and pressed a button. Clearly whatever he was expecting to happen didn’t so he repeated the action, only this time he thumped the switch. The little cabin lurched and the occupants were thrown back into their seats as the star streaks suddenly resolved into tiny pinpricks of light. The gravity and lights increased slightly.

On the little video display before Ki’yak they could all make out the dark muddy grey world that almost filled the screen. Ki’yak turned a creaking dial and the picture zoomed in on a lone Victory Class Star Destroyer.

Interesting sounding contract - break into an Imperial Garrison, discover their plans and take the place out, yes? Tricky, but not the first time. Would usually charge enough to buy a new ship, huh? Must be getting soft in my old age. Pays to advertise, though, yes?

Klingon reports suggested this world was acting as garrison to an extremely large Imperial fleet. Bulk of it in the Triangle perhaps. Somewhat unexpected to find only one old Victory Star Destroyer, huh?

Put down behind a ridge fairly close to the base. Extremely useful these cloaking devices, must have one fitted to The Prestinium, yes?

The Imperial garrison was a large collection of prefab units slotted together like an oversized children’s construction toy. One large vehicle hangar unit, a command module, a power core/shield module, three habitation modules and a handful of gun towers.

Death Bringer took the lead, flanked by the other two, as they crossed the desolate, lifeless, terrain. Dilon and Ki’yak both wore breathmasks to combat the thin air. Dilon sported a thermal jacket due to the sub-zero temperature but Ki’yak appeared oblivious to the cold.

The three of them approached a massive set of double doors - the vehicle hangar bay. None of them spoke, not that is would have carried well under the circumstances, they could all sense something was wrong. As they got closer to the building they spotted what appeared to be a tiny door dwarfed by the larger pair next to it. They approached cautiously but reached the door apparently undetected.

* Hmm, get the feeling we have competition, yes? * Death Bringer said, breaking the half hour silence of their slow, cautious, approach.

The other two looked around Death Bringer to see the door panel he was examining. It had been cut open and rewired. Death Bringer touched two stripped wires together. With a spark at the panel the service door slid open. Then slipped in, through the atmosphere containing force field into the large open grey expanse that was the vehicle hangar. It was virtually empty, save for a handful of AT-PTs, Speeder Bikes and a couple of TIE fighters hanging from the ceiling racks.

“Wow, this place is empty! Are you sure they haven’t all left?” Dilon asked, the sight of such a huge amount of empty space surprising him.

* Hrm, gone on holiday, huh? Makes our job easier, yes? *

“Death to the feckers!” shouted Ki’yak as he ran towards one of the AT-PTs.

“Excellent idea!” Dilon called after the Klingon as Death Bringer brought a hand to his face.

* Go on then, catch me up, yes? * Death Bringer said needlessly as Dilon began sprinting towards Ki’yak and the one-man All-Terrain Personal-Transports. * Now got two of them to deal with, huh? Come back for them later... * he said to himself.

Death Bringer rushed towards the exit out of the hangar and into the garrison proper, not giving time for Dilon and Ki’yak to catch up in their new toys, assuming they ever got them going. He paused by the exit as something odd caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He approached a stack of plastic packing containers and readied his Titanium Shott Blaster, just in case. He leaned around the corner of crates but was only moderately surprised by what he found.

Not the best stacking I’ve ever witnessed, yes? Must be an acquired skill, Stormtrooper stacking. Not a bad job, though not sure I could have stacked twelve Stormtrooper bodies any better, huh? Impressive blaster holes, still smoking at that. Clearly the work of a professional such as myself, yes? Thought it best not to tell the other two, didn’t want the Klingons only half fixing my ship, right?

Death Bringer made his way through the corridors towards the power core module. Like the hangar the rest of the garrison was also virtually empty. On only two occasions did he have to duck into a room to avoid Imperials going about their business.

Back in the hangar, Ki’yak had climbed into the nearest AT-PT but couldn’t make out the controls. Dilon peered into the cockpit from the open top hatch trying to convey the controls to the Klingon, with little success. He had mastered the guns, however.

“Drive! I’ll kill ‘em!” Ki’yak shouted at Dilon whilst blasting away at everything in his field of view.

“Ahh, it’s not big enough - there’s only one seat!” Dilon called over the racket caused by the AT-PT in front of theirs having one of its two legs blown off and collapsing on its side.

“Hmmm - I know!” the Klingon bellowed over the din. He half turned in his chair and, keeping one hand on the targeting joystick and firing blindly ahead, began to hack away at the back of an armrest with a nasty looking blade. Once the support was cut through at the back he forced the armrest down so it was almost flat with the seat. The same fate became of the other side of the chair. It was still a squeeze but they both managed to share the newly extended chair even if they were jammed shoulder to shoulder.

More through luck than judgement the AT-PT was just the right height not to scrape the ceilings of the corridors. The doorways were a bit more trouble, they were wide enough but a little short. Ki’yak had the perfect solution. He blasted them.

Death Bringer leaned over the support rail for the gantry and took careful aim at one of the two technicians monitoring the power core consoles below. This is all too easy, he thought to himself as he triggered his shott blaster. A perfect head shot - the man crumpled to the ground.

The other technician heard the attack but was slow on the uptake. He looked at his colleague and then, panicing, looked about the floor of the power core room as he went for the small blaster pistol at this side. Death Bringer sighed, shook his head and blew a hole in his back.

* Just don’t make Imperials like they used to, yes? * he said to no one in particular. He crouched down on the gantry and serveved the area just in case he had missed anyone nearby who might come to investigate. There was nothing.

He vaulted over the gantry safety rail and down onto the floor a level below, his red cloak billowing after him. He landed into a crouch and serveyed the area again from his new vantage point. Still nothing. The emptiness of the garrison was beginning to make him nervous.

* Hmm, sure nobody’s at home, eh? * he called out into the large echoey chamber, half hoping a squad of Stormtroopers might reply with a volley of fire. With no such reply forthcoming he shrugged and walked over to the primary control console.

* Why can’t they build access points higher up, on the top of the console, perhaps? Most demeaning, huh? * He kneeled down on one knee before the console and held up his left forefinger. The finger tip flipped open and out shot a metal spike. He slid the probe jack into the droid interface, hoping for easy access to the encoded mission files.

After several minutes he was getting nowhere. * Tsk. Hate to admit it but Dilon’s help would be useful right now. Time is wasting, yes? May as well wire this place up now, huh? *

Death Bringer disengaged from the console and walked over to the center of the room and the power core itself. He reached into a couple of the oval pouches around his belt and liberated the three explosive charges from them and the remote detonators. He attached the detonators to the explosives and leaned over a large coolant pipe to place the first out of sight. As he withdrew his hand after attaching the first he felt something. He gently ran his hand over the odd obstruction. Not quite believing what his hand told him he leaned over further for a good look at it.

* Really have been beaten to it. Don’t recognise the design but appears to have anti-tamper sensors, yes? Oh, well, fine by me - so long as I get the information first, huh? * he said examining the other explosive device hidden near his own.

On his way out to find Dilon and Ki’yak he hid the bodies of the two technicians on the assumption that two dead bodies would raise the alarms far quicker than two missing technicians.

Little did I know that being stealthful was a complete waste of time, yes? Perhaps unsurprisingly Dilon and Ki’yak had caused a commotion. Didn’t really expect them to get one of those walkers going. Sadly mistaken, yes?

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” chanted Ki’yak every time he pressed the trigger to fire the AT-PT guns.

“Look out - there’s more of them!” shouted Dilon, over the not inconsiderable noise of the battle, as another squad of Stormtroopers ran through a door in front of them.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” Ki’yak continued as if he hadn’t heard Dilon. He blasted large holes in three of the new group of Stormtroopers as they scattered to join the remnants of the previous squad who were taking cover around the two corners of the T-junction ahead or behind the door they came from.

Blaster bolts flew both ways down the corridor but neither side appeared too concerned about being accurate, it was almost as if they were competing just on the number of shots made. Occasionally a blaster bolt would fizz into the AT-PT which was a fair size and something of a sitting duck. Fortunately for the two occupants the armour was holding up well, it was designed as an anti-infantry vehicle. As such its own weapons were far more powerful than any hand-held blaster and Ki’yak was making short work of blasting the surrounds of the door ahead to get the troops taking cover the other side.

“They’re storming us!” shouted Dilon in a panic, suddenly not feeling so well protected at the sight of nine troopers breaking cover, from all three locations, and rushing towards the AT-PT, weapons blazing.

As this was unfolding an armour clad figure watched on from the darkened, smoke filled, corridor behind the AT-PT. This wasn’t going to plan at all. Something would have to be done to fix the problem.

“Die! Die! Die! Die!” Ki’yak continued relentlessly as he brought the twin side guns to bear on the attackers, not pausing the firing as he did so.

Dilon backed up the AT-PT a little, as best he could given the complete lack of rear view and a general design flaw which virtually precluded back-peddling. The sudden backwards jerky motion threw Ki’yak’s aim (which was more indiscriminate than anything else to begin with). The barrage of bolts from the one-man walker came up short and ripped into the metal floor. There was an explosion of searing hot steam from something underneath the blast point and most of the stormtroopers were instantly engulfed.

As the screams of the stormtroopers being boiled to death in their white armour reached the ears of the mysterious bounty hunter he decided it was time to act. The 5"9' metallic grey armoured figure pulled a battered looking DEMP gun from his left holster and carefully aimed it at the back of the AT-PT cockpit, just above where the two legs attached. With a thoomb a large blue bolt shot from the weapon and impacted squarely on the back of the walker. Blue electricity sparked and arced around the AT-PT for a couple of seconds as the electro-magnetic pulse disabled the onboard systems.

“Yes sizzle!! Die! Die! Die-” Ki’yak shouted at the boil in the bag stormtroopers but stopped abruptly as he realised the controls had gone dead. “Make it work!” he growled at Dilon who was already trying to figure out what had happened.

The bounty hunter watched the AT-PT wobble but was disappointed when the naturally unstable vehicle settled without toppling over. Without the onboard systems to constantly balance the machine he knew it wouldn’t take much to knock it over before the systems recovered. He raised his right arm and activated the device on the top of his forearm. The Personal Missile Launcher fired one of its incendiary micro-warheads at the right leg of the AT-PT. The fiery explosion was enough to over-balance the walker and it toppled forward.

“Ahhh!” screamed Dilon as the felt the AT-PT rock and slowly fall forward. The little viewing slit he had opened, so the two of them were not completely blinded by the system outage, was filled with the floor as they rushed towards it. With a clang that continued to ring in their ears after it had finished they were both thrown towards the front of the little cockpit. They both braced their impacts by outstretching their arms. It saved them from head injuries but Dilon felt his a bone in his right arm snap when his full weight collapsed on it badly.

The bounty hunter sank further back into the shadow and smoke of the corridor behind the fallen AT-PT when he saw the remaining stormtroopers edge around the the diminishing and cooling steam cloud. He could not allow himself to be seen by the Imperials.

One of the troopers triggered the manual release for the top hatch on the walker and was greeted by an insane Klingon who jumped from the hatch and knocked the stormtrooper to the ground. Ki’yak ripped off the other’s helmet and produced, from hidden about his person, a small metal cylindrical container. He popped the cap and pored the contents in the Imperial’s face. With a gurgling scream the stormtrooper writhed in agony and clutched his face as the acid ate it away. Ki’yak laughed with joy as he further launched himself at two other approaching stormtroopers.

Dilon dragged himself, with one arm, half out of the hatch just in time to see Ki’yak attempt to wrestle two stormtroopers only to be surrounded by three more, two of which opened fire on him. One hit him on the shoulder blade and the other was a perfect central back shot. Ki’yak roared in pain and fell to the ground, though he did have the satisfaction of bringing the two stormtroopers to the ground with him.

“I surrender,” Dilon said weakly as the stormtroopers moved their attention to him.

By time I located the remains of the AT-PT just two stormtroopers were left guarding, yes? Devastation was considerable, perhaps time to recommend a raise for Dilon, eh? Had a sudden sickening urge to locate Dilon and Ki’yak - most unprofessional, where’s the profit in it, huh? But, given the fact that the only other space craft seen was a couple of TIE fighters - with no hyperspace engines - only sure way off was in Ki’yak’s, er, ship. So, decided to find them, purely for practical reasons - didn’t fancy my luck trying to pilot that bucket, yes?

The first guard fell almost as soon as the spear hit him dead in the heart. Death Bringer knew he had to be quick off the mark to get the second, if the other stormtrooper had enough reaction time he would call for backup. That being the case, Death Bringer swung the blaster carbine in his left hand around on the second guard as soon as he had fired the spear from his interchangeable right hand. The spear was quick and, most importantly, quiet. A blaster bolt would have attracted the others attention immediately but it took the other guard a full two seconds to notice anything had happened at all. Before he could figure out what was going on he had been cut down by Death Bringer’s blaster carbine. Death Bringer was feeling frivolous and let off two shots in rapid succession instead of his usual one.

* Assume they left the worst performers behind to guard the garrison, huh? * he quipped at the two corpses. He took a second to admire the scene of carnage around him from his new vantage point. * Amazing what some people can do with a simple AT-PT, yes? *

Death Bringer leaned down to take a look inside the walker, just to be sure it was empty. He noticed the impromptu chair extension and muttered to himself * Hmm, looks like both of you were in here I’d say. Given the lack of blood and carbon scoring probably captured, huh? *

He stood up and went to retrieve the spear whilst replacing his right hand that he had removed to attach the spear for firing.

* Detention Centre can’t be too far away - * Death Bringer started to say, thinking out loud. It was muffled, silenced, but was definitely the sound of a blaster being fired. He threw himself to one side as the faintest of distortions shot through the air where he had been standing.

* Hmm, clever, blaster bolts beyond human visual spectrum, huh? * he said as he dived behind the remains of the AT-PT for cover. * Just as well I can see into the ultra-violet, yes? * he called out to his attacker.

It was a stand-off, both were behind cover - Death Bringer crouching behind the fallen AT-PT and the other in a doorway to the side of the dark smoke-filled corridor.

* Best you give up now, yes? * Death Bringer said but there was no reply. Death Bringer reached into a belt pouch and pulled out one of the two unused explosive devices. He quickly swapped the remote timer fuse for a timer version and hurled it down the corridor towards the bounty hunter. At that same instant he spotted an object sailing towards him from the other direction.

* Great minds think alike, eh? * Death Bringer called out to the other as he made to clear his position. It was then, just as the device plinked to the ground and bounced that he noticed what it was. This was no normal explosive. His surprised look quickly changed to determination as he threw himself clear of the thermal detonator. He dived over the AT-PT and, with a little assistance from his jet boots, he jumped almost half way up the corridor towards the bounty hunter and his own explosive. Death Bringer laid flat on the ground and covered his head expecting his own explosive to go off first. He was correct.

The bounty hunter ducked back behind cover after throwing the thermal detonator but had failed to notice the explosive Death Bringer had returned. Knowing full well the potency of thermal detonators he thumped the door control to protect himself from the massive blast that would shoot up the corridor past his position. Less than three seconds later an explosion ripped the door to shreds are hurled the debris towards him. He knew a thermal detonator blast when he saw one and that was that no thermal.

Death Bringer was several metres from his explosive but was well within the danger zone, especially in the confined area of the corridor. The force was incredible. The floor actually felt as if it rose quite some way. Shards of sharp hot metal tore into his arms as he desperately tried to cover his head and gripped the tips of his shoes on the floor to prevent himself being thrown too far back towards the thermal detonator that was likely to go off in about a second.

A large sharp piece of metal from the door sliced a deep gash into the bounty hunter’s leg as he was thrown back against the back wall of the small, empty, storage area he was sheltering in. The deadly shower of debris impacted into his armour and gave numerous other small minor wounds. He hit the wall hard and slid down it in a daze.

Before the explosion had even subsided, a fraction of a second after it had begun, Death Bringer willed his battered body towards the blast. His snap calculation was correct - his explosive had decimated that part of the corridor. The ceiling had collapsed and, more importantly, so had that section of floor. Again, with the aid of his jet boots he dived towards the hole in the floor to escape the thermal blast.

Groggy and disorientated by the concussion the bounty hunter more rolled than dived towards the side of what was once the door. He got there just in time. The thermal detonator went off. For several metres around the device, both horizontally and vertically, everything was instantly vapourised. The thermal front expanded out at the speed of sound. The very air that filled the corridor combusted into a stream of fire. The metal walls were softened and buckled, the outer layers becoming molten and forced like small waves down the corridor with the thermal front. The bounty hunter curled up into a ball, as best he could in his armour and with his injuries. The air felt as if it were being sucked out of the room and then a wall of flame poured through the remains of that door, melting away much of what was left of it.

Everywhere he looked was fire and heat. Even down in the wreckage of the level below Death Bringer was engulfed in flame. Most of it may have passed harmlessly overhead but that was little consolation as he could feel the heat on his back reach danger level, even for his tough metallic hide. Within seconds all of the oxygen in the long corridor, back for several hundred metres, was almost exhausted. Death Bringer, still ablaze like so much around him, pulled himself up from his awkward landing and began to pull a long metal spike that broke his fall from his side. * Uuhhn! *

The bounty hunter heard the cry. He had evaded most of the thermal energy by hiding behind the door but was still severely burnt, even under his extremely protective gear. On the plus side his leg had been well and truly cauterised. He was about to lean on the wall to help himself up when he stopped himself, realising it was still far too hot. He eased himself up, trying not to touch the floor with anything but his feet, and hobbled to the doorway, leaving footprints in the hardening metal as he did so. He looked down into the hole beyond and saw the flaming figure of Death Bringer. And Death Bringer saw him.

* Terak! * bellowed the freelance peacekeeping agent at the bounty hunter.

Tonb Terak was not in a condition to fight. He’d already caused far too much damage to both the garrison and himself. Fun as it may be, it was contrary to his mission. Death Bringer would have to wait. He jumped as best he could across the edge of the hole. The smoldering visage of Death Bringer leapt at Terak as he crossed the gap but overestimated his energy and didn’t get even close to grabbing the bounty hunter’s legs. Terak staggered off to find some cover in which to recuperate.

Death Bringer’s face smashed into the ground and it was all he could do to half look up to make sure Terak was gone before he could no longer hold his head up and, again, it impacted the ground. He lay there for several minutes to regain his strength.

Not the most pleasant experience of my career, yes? Still, chances of surviving a thermal detonator at that range are rather small, huh? To survive two in an many weeks - must have someone up there looking out for me.

Rather lucky I’d triggered and thrown my explosive before Terak had, otherwise would not have had to time get clear of the blast zone and would not have had a convenient hole to take cover in, yes?

Had considered going after Terak but where’s the profit in revenge, huh? Couldn’t figure out why he attacked. Clearly we were on the same side - those stormtroopers in the vehicle hangar had his name all over them. Know he wouldn’t work for the Empire after all they’d done to him. Perhaps didn’t want to share the reward. Felt like there was more to it than that, yes?

Patched myself up as best I could and decided to go find someone to help me get into the detention centre.

“Where are you taking this-” the detention centre guard asked offhandedly without taking a proper look at Death Bringer and his prisoner. Something about what he saw in that brief glance made no sense and he stopped speaking, mid-sentence, to take a proper look. In that last split-second of life he was afforded a bizarre image indeed. What looked like a large silver man with a few ill-fitting stormtrooper armour plates haphazardly strapped to his too-large frame and holding an unconscious man wearing nothing but a pair of colourful boxer shorts and socks.

Death Bringer’s titanium shott blaster burrowed a hole straight through the imperial’s head. He threw his prisoner across the room, it no longer mattered if the stormtrooper was alive or not. As it turned out he hadn’t been needed to get past any biometric security devices. Death Bringer wouldn’t kill him unless he became a threat and given his condition that was very unlikely. With his left hand now free he pulled out his blaster carbine and, together with the titanium shott blaster attachment on his right arm, he began blasting the various camera and sensing devices around the detention centre control room.

From down the short cell bay corridor came an imperial soldier, rushing towards the blaster light show Death Bringer was causing. Death Bringer shook his head slowly as he brought both weapons to bear on the soldier and blasted him several times with each. * Tsk, felt suicidal, huh? At least have your blaster ready next time, yes? *

There was a beeping from the communication panel of the detention centre consoles. Death Bringer made his way over to it. Suddenly he noticed another sensor he had missed and blasted it. * Don’t do things by half these Imperials, eh? * He clicked a switch on the console to accept the communication. * Everything's under control, huh? Situation normal, yes? *

"What happened?" came the reply down the comms circuit.

* Had a slight weapons malfunction. Everything perfectly alright now. All fine here now, yes? How are you, huh? * Death Bringer wasn’t one to bluff but he needed time to rescue his comrades and get out.

"We're sending a squad up."

* Negative, negative. * He searched for a good story. The pain in his side from the injury right next to his fusion core gave him inspiration. * Have a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak, very dangerous, yes? *

"Who is this? What's your operating number?" said the man on the other end of the communication who clearly wasn’t buying this at all.

Death Bringer blasted the console.

* Boring conversation anyway, huh? * he said as he left towards the cell bay after glancing at the cell allocation console.

Death Bringer pushed the door control of the first of the two occupied cells and the metal door slid upwards at quite a rate. Dilon was in the cell, crouching beside the door and jumped back with surprise, attempting to hide a piece of metal plating behind his back with one arm, the other was held to his stomach.

It took Dilon a second to recognise the mechanoid with the bits of stormtrooper armour hanging loosely from himself and generally looking rather more fire-damaged and beat up than usual.

“You’re a little tall for a stormtrooper.” Dilon said flatly as he tossed the piece of metal onto the bench-like bed on the far wall of the cell.

* See you were planning a little get-away, yes? *

“Something like that - they didn’t check me very well and missed this.” Dilon said, holding up a pen sized laser cutter, wincing after intially trying to grab it with his other hand. “I think I’ve broken my arm... What happened to you? You didn’t climb into the power core did you?”

* Long story. Moral is: never play with thermal detonators inside, huh! *

“Wow, that was you! I think the entire garrison must have felt that blast! Come to think of it why haven’t the alarms gone off?” Dilon exclaimed, his arm suddenly forgotten.

* Good question. Place is rather under-staffed but not empty, yes? Perhaps Terak found a way to disable all the alarm systems. *

“Terak! Tonb Terak - the bounty hunter! He’s the one that rewired that door?! Excellent, with him on our side we’ll easily get the information and blow this place!” Dilon said excitedly. He’d heard stories of Terak’s exploits during his brief tenure helping the rebels, the very same group that Dilon and Death Bringer were now associated with.

* Don’t think help was on his agenda * Death Bringer replied looking down at the remains of his once glorious red cape, which was supposedly fire retardant. Death Bringer made a mental note to bring this up, rather forcibly, with his tailor.

“Huh? He’d never work for the Imperials. He must have thought you were on their side. Anyway, why would he have to break in if he was working for them?”

* Or kill an entire squad of Stormtroopers. Or hide explosives around the power core, huh? * Death Bringer added thoughtfully. Something didn’t add up. His instincts told him there was more to it than professional jealousy or a desire not to split the money.

Death Bringer turned to move to the next cell to retrieve Ki’yak. Dilon popped his head out of the cell cautiously and followed. “Must we?” Dilon asked nodding his head towards the other cell. “He’s as mad as a sackful of Jawas!”

* Also our ticket out of here. *

“Oh, no, not that ship, please! I could get gangrene!” Dilon pleaded but was ignored.

The other cell door slid open just like the previous only this time Death Bringer was faced with a blaster.

“Die - ” shouted Kiyak as he let off a salvo in Death Bringers general direction “- alien scum!”

Death Bringer was quickly getting in the habit of diving out of the way of anyone pointing a blaster at him and large burning chunks were blown from the door to the opposite cell.

“Hey! It’s us!!” shouted Dilon who hadn’t quite made it to Ki’yak’s door before this all happened.

“Grrr!” growled the Klingon, who was always in a habit of shooting first and, well, never asking questions. And that was when he wasn’t slightly groggy from multiple stun blasts.

Death Bringer picked himself off the ground, dusted himself down and joined Dilon to look in at Ki’yak. * Better disguise than I thought, huh? *

They were both rather surprised to see the remains of an Imperial officer and an interrogation droid strewn across the floor. Both had large chunks bitten off, half the officer’s face had been apparently eaten.

* Late bringing supper, eh? Good to see you’re getting your roughage, yes? * Death Bringer indicated the droid.

Dilon was looking rather unwell again. “What now?” he asked weakly, turning his back on the scene. Death Bringer wondered how someone can spend so much of their time looking queasy.

* Control Centre. Need to get that information before Terak destroys this place, and us, yes? *

Had to shed the disguise, not my colour, yes? Time enough to pick up Ki’yak’s weapons and get out before another squad of Stormtroopers turned up, just. Had considered making Ki’yak leave his possessions, time being somewhat limited, but had heard stories that he’d had the same disruptor for several decades. Not getting sentimental, rumours had it that he’d led his people into battle just to retrieve it, to great cost, on more than one occasion. Didn’t feel like rushing back to find it with the garrison exploding around us, yes?

Place could have gone up at any second. Time to get to business - get to the source of the problem, the Command Centre, yes? Find out where everyone is, especially the fleet. Get as much of their game plan as possible. Trigger the explosive in the power core, chain reaction destroys the garrison. Simple, huh?

Didn’t turn out quite how I expected, yes?

* Ready? * Death Bringer more warned than asked as he felt the lift come to a halt. It had been a very short journey. The detention centre was three floors directly below the command centre, all they had to do was enter the lift Death Bringer had used minutes earlier. This time he didn’t feel the need to bring the unfortunate stormtrooper he had smacked over the back of the head with his mace, though he was unsurprisingly still unconscious as they walked passed him.

Dilon shifted nervously, cradling his arm. He didn’t like the idea of a frontal assault. Ki’yak was almost bouncing around with anticipation. The lift door slid open.

“I’ve been expecting you.” said a white haired man in an Imperial Admiral’s uniform, standing directly in front of the lift.

Death Bringer was slightly taken aback and had to grab Ki’yak by the scruff of the neck to stop him immediately assaulting the officer. He frowned * Don’t like to drop around unannounced, yes? *

“Please, come in.” said the admiral who then noticed Dilon’s apprehension. “Don’t worry I’ve ordered them not to attack you.” he said indicating the half dozen crew on various consoles around the command centre.

“It was you - you stopped the alarms going off!” declared Dilon as the three of them exited the lift and for the first time got a proper look at the command center. It was extremely under-manned and there was no sign of any troops. Most of the walls were transparasteel through which they could see the depressingly dull world they were situated on.

“Very good, sorry I don’t know you’re name -” the admiral prompted.

“Dilon”

“Dilon? Hmm, I’ll remember that.” He turned to Death Bringer. “Of course I know who you are, Death Bringer. You don’t forget a colourful name like that, or such an impressive piece of engineering. Doctor Halum and his team must be very proud.” He turned, finally to look at Ki’yak. Looking like he had a foul taste in his mouth he talked about the Klingon as if he were a specimen "I’ve not met this species before. Must be from one of those other places. A native, perhaps?”

“Ki’yak, you snivelling pig dog!” the Klingon retorted.

“Indeed.” the Imperial said curtly and shifted his attention back to the other two. “I’m Admiral Harborough. I assume you are here to kill me?”

Death Bringer broke his silence, he hated chatty Imperials. * Not necessarily. Here to get your plans and destroy the garrison and any opposition, yes? *

“Well I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place if you are after our battle strategy. You see Vader doesn’t trust me. Sad, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve been left here with a skeleton crew - to keep me out of the way.”

“Liar alien scum!” barked Ki’yak who was rapidly getting an itchy trigger finger.

“Look, I’m well aware I am in mortal danger here. I have no wish to die, therefore I have no desire to lie. It is quite simple really.” Harborough restrained himself from adding a Ki’yak aimed insult to the end of his sentence.

* Where has the fleet gone? Are they returning, huh? * Death Bringer interrogated.

“I was told they were going on an exercise. I don’t believe that for a second. They are clearly going on an offensive mission and probably plan to build a new garrison closer to the action, hence why they have all but deserted here.”

* Being very cooperative. Hoping to defect, eh? *

“I’m open to offers... Reasonable offers...”

“What?! Imperial officers don’t defect, not high ranking ones!” Dilon exclaimed.

“Too true.” came a voice from way across the room, as did a blaster bolt aimed directly at the admiral’s head.

Death Bringer moved to push Harborough out of Terak’s line of fire but was too late. The admiral’s head exploded in a shower of golden liquid. Before they realised what was happening the headless Harborough reached into his own chest and pulled out a remote control.

Terak sprinted towards the admiral, his injuries temporarily forgotten thanks to the adrenaline, but he could never make it in time and the others were blocking his shot.

Both Death Bringer and Ki’yak instantly understood the situation and, as one, pulled out blades. Death Bringer grabbed the vibro-axe from his back and Ki’yak pulled a nasty looking long dagger. Together they slashed into the creature posing as the admiral. Death Bringer brought his axe down on and through the arm with the remote control and Ki’yak brought his dagger up into its gut and opened it all the way to its chest.

The creature’s arm fell to the ground, changing into a golden liquid as it did, but it was too late - the button was pressed and they all knew it.

Terak rolled two grenades towards the nearest transparisteel wall and opened fire with all he had at it. Death Bringer and Ki’yak, feeling the moment crawl by as if in slow motion, swapped their blades for guns to join the bounty hunter. A small explosion could be felt far away.

Two dull thuds sounded by the wall, almost inperceptable under the blaster and disruptor bombardment. All four of them ran towards the wall, all but Dilon blasting away at it as they did so. Though they were only peripherally aware of it, blaster bolts were now flying in their direction from some of the crew who had little understanding of the situation. A larger explosion could be felt from elsewhere in the garrison. The wall gave out to the pummelling. The internal atmosphere was sucked out into the lower pressured outside. Ki’yak was already reaching for his breathmask. Dilon was not.

Terak and Death Bringer were the first to reach the large hole in the wall and both jumped without hesitation. Ki’yak and Dilon were close on their heals and did the same. Dilon in particular was shocked to see how far up they were - how far they had to fall. He hadn’t realised the garrison was over fifteen storeys high and the command centre was at the top. He was also suddenly aware that he couldn’t breathe.

The garrison fragmented out behind them as they were barely clear of the hole but, unfortunately, still in serious danger. Death Bringer successfully grabbed both Ki’yak and Dilon, one with each hand, as they fell. Death Bringer did his best to put on the breaks with his jet-boots but the explosion threw them into a tumble away from the garrison.

More by luck than judgment Death Bringer managed to fire his jet-boots in the correct direction to slow them down moments before the three of them crashed into the ground. Large sections of garrison superstructure were crashing down all around them. Noticing Dilon’s lack of breathmask Death Bringer grabbed it off of Dilon’s belt and pressed it to the aphixiating rebel’s face. The mechanoid pulled both his companions to their feet and dragged them along as fast as he could away from the disintegrating garrison.

Managed to evacuate the area with no serious injuries to any of us, yes? As ever time was against us. Knew that the Star Destroyer in orbit would send TIE Fighters in to investigate. Time it took them to scramble and converge on the area was just enough to return to Ki’yak’s ship, helpfully cloaked from their sensors. Gave it a little while for the interest to die down before we left, even cloaked, yes?

Assume Terak got back to his own ship, huh?

“You didn’t get another head for your collection.” Dilon, who was keeping his breathmask on in the ship and wrapping his arm in his thermal jacket, commented to Ki’yak.

“No. I want some changling for my collection...” Ki’yak replied techilly, looking up at the severed heads of various enemies and creatures he had slain over the decades. Every now and then one of shed another piece of rotten flesh as the main gun fired to keep their backwards flying speed up.

“So who was Terak working for?” Dilon asked no one in particular.

* Don’t know. Get the feeling he was hired to take out the admiral, yes? *

“But not the garrison - the admiral wired that place up, right?” Dilon added.

* Looks that way, yes? Suspect whoever hired Terak knew Harborough wasn’t who he appeared to be. *

“Vader!” Dilon interjected.

* No, somebody else. Somebody trying to control the game, yes? *

“Oh, What about the Imperial Fleet? What now?” Dilon continued.

* Now? Back to base. Have a warranty to invoke, yes? * Death Bringer replied, looking at the tatty burnt remains of his cloak.

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: Only Three Survived?

Found myself on a luxurious but cramped Federation shuttlecraft descending towards the neutral planet Venwi's Claim. By now the Prestinium was fixed by the Klingons, yes? This mission was for real money. Considerable sum, at that, eh? Klingons wanted me to accompany the Federation delegation to an emergency conference after the Empire captured an important Klingon supply and shipyard world. Though they'd never admit it, the Klingons were seriously worried, yes?

This Federation was not dissimilar to the Old Republic. Unlike the Klingon Empire, which was basically one race and a few colony worlds, the Federation was comprised of hundreds of races and worlds. Much larger size and economy. From what I gathered, despite a history of conflict between Klingons and Federation, in recent years the Klingons would always run to the Federation for help with their problems (both external and internal!)

Only a handful of people knew of this conference, both for security and Klingon pride, yes? That's why an out of the way planet was chosen rather than a normal venue. Both parties were to make their own ways to their compounds, then members from each group were to transfer to the other compound for the talks, yes?

Things are never that easy, right?

The Federation Presidential shuttle slowly descended towards the solitary city, imaginatively called Venwi's City after the leader of the original pioneers to settle on the barren world. As they descended into the turbulent heavy clouds they got their last glimpses of the sun that would only provide the city with another hours light before setting. Strong gusts of wind battered the little craft as the pilot wrestled to keep the ride as smooth and on course as possible in the poor flying conditions. As they broke through the dark murkiness of the clouds some of the group peered through the small windows next to their seats to catch sight of their destination. The driving rain prevented them from seeing more than a few metres out from their vantage points and provided worrying loud machine-gun drumming on the hull the further they descended.

The group comprised of nine Federation personnel, the most notable being the Federation President himself, along with three Presidential Security (one of which was flying), the Federation Interior Minister and four Junior Ministers. Accompanying them were Death Bringer and Dilon, who were charged with protecting the delegation and, more importantly, acting as a conduit for the Klingons who had hired them.

"Looks impressive, doesn't it?" Dilon said in a slightly raised voice to Death Bringer over the din of the rain. Death Bringer looked over at him and saw he was looking at a holographic representation of the city below, clearly trying to take his mind off the bumpy journey but his pale pallor and the sweaty prints he was leaving on the holographic controls suggested he wasn't succeeding.

* Not exactly a holiday resort, huh? * Death Bringer called back. * Any sign of the Klingons? *

"Er, hold on a second - I'm having trouble getting this thing to show me fine details..." Dilon said in a normal voice that was all but drowned out. He fiddled with the controls a bit more and finally got the display, which was projecting from the back of the chair in front, to zoom in on a small area of the city. The crude wireframe graphic lacked much but was slowly becoming more detailed. Dilon pointed at what might be another shuttle on the ground and called out to Death Bringer "Yeah - I think that's them, they must already be in their compound!"

Death Bringer looked back at the President, who was sitting directly behind Dilon. President Sankey, who was looking much more relaxed than most of his colleagues, nodded at Death Bringer to acknowledge he had heard Dilon's remark.

The shuttle lurched and everyone could feel it fall some way before regaining control. Death Bringer glanced at the Interior Minister, Crookall, who appeared to be gritting his teeth and generally not enjoying the ride one bit.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are coming in to land - we should set down in about two minutes!" shouted Agent Broderick, who was at the front of the small craft at the piloting controls. "In the meantime could you all stay seated and belted - this will be the bumpiest part of the journey! You may just be able to make out the shape of the extinct volcano that the towers over the city to starboard!"

Broderick was not joking when he said it would get more turbulent. Two of the Junior Ministers at the back of the shuttle had to make use of the travel sickness bags provided and the resultant smell did nothing to help the others, even President Sankey was looking more stoical than earlier.

"I wish I were piloting..." mumbled Dilon, imagining that being at the controls would do much to avert his nausea, or at least keep him too busy to think about it.

For a shuttlecraft fitted with the latest anti-gravity drive system the landing was extremely hard. The shuttle vertically descended towards the small walled garden that connected with their compound. At the last second a particularly powerful gust of wind smashed into the side of the craft and the pilot had to quickly throw on the lateral thrusters so they wouldn't crash down onto the wall. He managed that but was too distracted to reduce their downward speed as much as he should have. The landing gear strained under the extra weight from the inertia and sunk down over half a metre into the mud. The occupants of the shuttle looked at each other in relief that they had, somehow, survived the hellish descent.

Gaspar and Kassulke, the other two Presidential Security Agents, were the first to stand up in the low headroom cabin. They made their way to the door, pulled out their phasers and hit the release. The door swung down to be used as the steps to the ground. Wind and rain blasted into the shuttle as the two agents made their way to the compound building to make sure it was secure before letting the delegation in. The delegates got together their luggage from the overhead lockers and tried to keep away from the worst of the rain that was quickly soaking the area around the door. Death Bringer, however, ignored the minor discomfort and sat by the door, covering it with his Blaster Carbine, just in case.

Within five minutes Kassulke had returned to signal the all clear, Gaspar having remained inside. The group filed out of the shuttle, first Kassulke, the President, Death Bringer, Dilon, Minister Crookall, the Junior Ministers and finally Broderick who sealed the shuttle behind them. They fought their way through the strong winds and heavy rain. Death Bringer was, and not for the first time, grateful his flesh was no longer organic - his synthetic musculature and augmented molybdenum skin might act, and even look somewhat like his original organic form but was much more resilient. The rain was pounding down on the group with such ferocity that it was stinging the other's skin and the weight of it was making them feel like the world had a much stronger gravity than its real 1.1G.

As they came to the end of their short but extremely muddy walk towards the building Death Bringer turned around to Dilon and said loudly * Going to check the exterior and then go to the Klingon compound, yes? Call you if there are any problems. *

Dilon nodded but was too interested in getting out of the rain to make any comments and, with some effort, pulled his feet from the quagmire that was slowly capturing him whilst he stood still to listen to Death Bringer. Dilon entered the building as Death Bringer trudged off around the perimeter of the building.

As he entered the building into what appeared to be a kitchen area Dilon saw the President sitting rather unceremoniously on the tiled floor pulling off his ruined, mud enveloped, shoes.

"Shall I get you chair Mr. President?" Dilon asked, seeing some around a table at the other side of the room.

"What, and walk mud all the way over there? Didn't your mother teach you anything!" President Sankey joked.

"Err..." Dilon exclaimed uncertainly as he looked at the trails already leading into the rest of the building, presumably left by the Security Agents.

"Here, let me." President Sankey said, now with his shoes held together in one hand, as he went to help Dilon extricate himself from his own shoes.

As the others piled in behind them they all felt obliged to help each other remove their shoes, only Interior Minister Crookall refusing help and battling it out on his own.

***************

Definitely not high on my list of holiday venues, Venwi's Claim, yes? Still, perfect place if you are in the umbrella or anti-depressants business. Come to think of it, must be like a home from home for Klingons, get the feeling they like harsh environments - good for their warrior spirit, eh? Can't say it does my mood any good. For one thing, poor visibility puts me on edge, yes?

With his perimeter checks proving to be swift and untroubling Death Bringer left the compound by using a jetboot assisted jump to scale the concrete walls, take a quick look around from the new vantage point, and pounce down onto the rain beaten street below.

Death Bringer pulled a datapad from his belt and brought up the city map the Klingons had provided. Checking the area he located the quickest route through the dark empty streets, the rain rebounding off them and turning into shallow rivers, flowing around the short grimy grey two or three storey buildings that made the city.

In ideal conditions the walk between the two compounds would have been less than five minutes for Death Bringer but splashing his way against the flow in the narrow streets and battling his way through the wind and rain was slowing him up.

Pausing to consult his datapad map Death Bringer's instincts told him something was wrong - did he hear something? The glow of his datapad stuck out against the gloom. Although there was over half an hour before sunset the sun had already settled behind the great volcano on the edge of the city, casting a shadow that, along with the weather, forced the city into premature darkness. What few street lights existed did little to penetrate the blackness.

Turning off and returning the datapad to his belt, Death Bringer suddenly located the source of the low, virtually drowned out, sound as a hovercar, headlights extinguished, shot out of the vale of rain straight at him. With hardly any time to react Death Bringer attempted to jump up and over the rapidly approaching vehicle with some help from his jetboots. The car showed no signs of slowing up. Before he could get enough height Death Bringer felt his shins smash into the top of the car and he rolled over the roof, crashing down onto the flooded street behind.

Easing himself up onto all fours Death Bringer looked around in the direction the car was heading. It was then he noticed it had abruptly stopped and four people were getting out - and they appeared to be heavily armed.

* Not going to give me your insurance details, right? * Death Bringer called out to them as he eased himself up.

Without warning the four attackers opened fire on Death Bringer with a blaze of bullets and energy bolts. Death Bringer dodged the hail of the gunfire and dived through a nearby window.

***************

The wall of the common room exploded inwards, sending smoke, dust and debris over the ten people within. The three Presidential Security Agents were the first to react and reached for their phasers, either in their holsters or on the table in front of them.

"Get down!" shouted Broderick to the civilians of the delegation.

A barrage of energy weapon fire spat in through the hole, as did the wind and rain. Broderick took a disrupter blast straight in the face and his smoking body was thrown back against the rear wall. The delegation all dived for the floor and any convenient cover from their unseen attackers.

Security Agent Gaspar ran towards the coffee table in the middle of the room, around which most of the delegation had been taking their first sips of hot chocolate. Before Gaspar reached his dubious cover the black masked attackers began to rush through the hole. Gaspar fired a wild shot into the group of intruders but managed only to blow away another chunk of masonry. The attackers came in firing rapidly but not indiscriminately. Gaspar was pummeled by seven or eight shots from the first three attackers to come through and his body, sent into a spin, collapsed onto the floor.

The third and final Security Agent, Kassulke, had dived behind a large, solid looking, wooden framed settee that he had previously been sitting on. Kassulke peered over the top of his cover to see six masked attackers pointing Klingon disruptors at his position. He quickly ducked back down but knew he had no chance.

"Okay, okay - I surrender!" Kassulke shouted out from behind the settee. There was no reply. He threw his phaser out to the right where they would see it and slowly stood up, hands raised. To his surprise and relief he was not fired upon. His job was to protect the President above all else and he couldn't do that dead.

"Down on the floor, Earther, hands on your head!" growled the leader in a very Klingon sounding voice. Kassulke slowly walked around to the front of the chair to the center of the room, where most of the others were, and did as he was instructed.

The six attackers, who despite their black fabric masks could still clearly be made out to be Klingons thanks to their foreheads, began to put restraints on their prisoners and arranged them in a circle around the central coffee table. Junior Minister Nellans was looking more panicked than the rest when it came to her turn to be restrained. She began to struggle against her captor.

"No! No you can't do this!" Nellans screamed, who had claustrophobia when her limbs were trapped. She was falling into a full panic attack, which was making the Klingon restrain her all the more.

"Leena - it's okay, just relax - we'll all be okay if you just calm down. Leena?" President Sankey said soothingly to his Junior Minister.

It wasn't working - her eyes were wild with fear and she was trying to kick and elbow her way out of the Klingon's grip. The Klingon had had enough. He produced an evil looking blade and, without hesitation, cut her throat.

Seeing the reaction from two of the remaining Junior Ministers President Sankey shook his head in warning to stop them doing anything stupid.

The apparent leader of the attackers grabbed a communicator from his belt and strode from the room growling something into it. Dilon turned away, as best he could given his restraints, and tried to drive the image of Nellan's murder from his mind. Dilon looked down at his pocket, wondering how he might use his comlink to contact Death Bringer when his hands where tied behind his back.

***************

Death Bringer crashed through the surprisingly thin glass and dark curtains to find himself on the floor of a cosy, if old fashioned, living room.

"Ahhh! Get out - Get out!" an old lady screeched from her armchair, flailing her arms wildly and causing the cat on her lap to scarper for cover.

* Better hide, yes? No place for an old la- * Death Bringer started as he crunched through the glass on his knees towards the now billowing curtains and window. It was then he noticed, with some surprise, the old woman pull a large antique sawn-off double-barreled shotgun from the magazine rack next to the musty old chair she was still sitting in.

Momentarily distracted by the sight of the armed OAP Death Bringer had to duck sharply as a couple of phaser bolts cut through the already soaked curtains and making them smolder slightly. Before he had time to turn back to the window the old lady had decided it was time to act and she had chosen her side for the battle. With a deafening boom in the small room she let of a shot at the window. Death Bringer ducked his head down further as buckshot flew over his head.

"Take that you hooligan punks!" she screamed at the unseen attackers. "Don't worry young man, I won't let them hurt you." she said soothingly to Death Bringer.

Shaking his head in despair Death Bringer inched towards the beige painted door - the only proper exit from the room. * Take cover, eh? Let me deal with this. *

The old lady was having none of it and, with some effort despite what adrenaline her old body could muster, she heaved herself up from the chair and shambled towards the side of the window. It was then that one of the attackers decided to use the element of surprise and jump in through the window after his prey. Unfortunately he misjudged it slightly. The figure became caught up in the soaking thick curtains. The old lady pulled the trigger on her last shot at the intruder struggling to extricate himself from his predicament. Death Bringer shielded his face with his right arm as a couple of stray pellets flew his way, embedding themselves in his arm. He stifled an expletive. The figure slumped to the ground like the sack of potatoes he currently resembled, pulling the curtains away from the wall.

Slowly and ungracefully the old lady lowered herself onto all fours and began crawling back to her chair to find some more ammunition. Death Bringer couldn't help but scowl at the minor wounds on his arm and leaned over to uncover the face of the intruder. An unremarkable human and a very dead one at that. A bump from upstairs prevented him doing a search of the body. Careful to keep as low as possible around the now exposed window Death Bringer crept back towards the door.

Crouching down as if he were about to begin a sprinting race Death Bringer eased open the off-coloured door, Blaster Carbine held pointing towards the ceiling with his left hand. The hallway beyond was in darkness. To his left was a door that appeared to lead into a kitchen and to the right and in front ascended a threadbare set of stairs going up with the front door at the bottom of them to his far right. Swapping his gun to the other hand for the better coverage up the stairs he silently moved towards the banister to peer up. The darkness did little to diminish what his sophisticated optics could see, in this case nothing more sinister than a vase at the top of the stairs.

Death Bringer crept towards the foot of the stairs. As he lifted his right leg over the first step a loud bang caused him to back off, crouch down and survey the area. It was the living room door, blown closed by gust that had chosen that moment to barrel through the all but vacant window frame.

Turning back towards the bottom of the stairs to look upwards, Death Bringer and one of his attackers met eye to eye. The middle-aged man, whose job had prematurely aged him, was leaning slightly over the wooden guard between the landing and the stairs below. The man jumped back with a start and pulled up his sub-machine gun. Death Bringer bounded up the first eight steep steps, two at a time, to jump up to grab the attacker over the banister. A hail of bullets sprayed over the mechanoid's head as he pulled himself up the wooden slats, staying low enough to avoid the deadly projectiles. Wasting no time to allow the human to aim lower, Death Bringer pulled himself up further with his left hand and with his right knocked the gun sideways out of the other's hands. The gun let off a few shots into the wall as it hit the ground by the bathroom door. The mobster punched Death Bringer in the face, square on the vertical grill that served as his mouth. The punch would have hurt the attacker more than Death Bringer but for the tenuous position the Freelance Peace Keeping Agent found himself in. Death Bringer overbalanced. Less for stability than combat he grabbed the attacker by the shoulders as he fell backwards down the stairs. The mobster struggled in his prey's grip but didn't have time to prevent himself being pulled over the banister and tumble down the stairs with Death Bringer. The wooden supports for the banister were smashed away as the two of them rolled down the narrow stairs and landed in a heap at the bottom.

Having taken the brunt of the fall Death Bringer took a second or two longer to recover. It was long enough to let the other grab a splintered wooden post and drive it down towards Death Bringer's chest. The mechanoid dodged out of the way, as best he could being pinned down in the small area, and the post cut down into the gap between his torso and arm, narrowly missing him.

* Look undead to you, eh? * Death Bringer brought his legs up and together to give his attacker a really good push away. * Hmm, come to think of it - probably am! * he said as he kicked the attacker, with all his strength, the short distance into the opposite wall.

The back of the attackers head and the top of his shoulders smacked into the wall with a loud thud and his severely concussed body crumpled to the floor. A slight creaking sound alerted Death Bringer to the old lady peering through a small gap she had made by opening the door. Seeing the way was clear she shuffled out into the hallway and pointed her shotgun, which was weighing down her feeble frame considerably, at the fallen man.

"I've got his one, dear. See if there any others." the little old lady suggested.

* At least two more, yes? * Death Bringer replied, looking up at the ceiling as if hoping he could see straight through it to the flat roof.

With a thud the hatch up to the roof thudded open leaving the landing exposed to the elements and another volley of gunfire. The two surviving attackers were disappointed not to see Death Bringer attempting to climb out of the hatch, he had expected the ambush. The taller of the two attackers, carrying a phaser rifle rather than the other's machine gun, slowing inched forward to look down the hole. From out of nowhere a large china vase arced up towards his face from the hatch. Thrown with such force the attacker had little time to retreat and the vase smashed into his forehead, shattering into a dozen pieces and spewing forth a cloud of dark ash that was quickly washed from the air by the torrential rain. The man stumbled back as his colleague open fired on the hole with his machine gun. The first attacker screamed in pain as his mad machine gun wielding friend misjudged and sprayed his shins into mush.

"That's my husband!" shouted the old lady from down the stairs as she realised what Death Bringer had done. Death Bringer evacuated the area of the hatch, above the landing, by pouncing down the stairs and sprinting towards the kitchen at the back of the house.

* Did us proud, yes? Back door? * Death Bringer said as he rushed past her, not waiting for confirmation.

Death Bringer pulled open the back door to find a small concreted garden area which was completely blocked in by surrounding buildings. He turned to look up at the house roof and saw the top of one of the attacker's heads. He silently ran back to the house wall. It was not a hard task to not be heard in the wind and rain. He jumped up onto the window sill of the kitchen and reached up to grab the next one above. Easily pulling his own weight up, and being slightly surprised the edge of the sill didn't give way under the strain, he considered whether he should use his jetboots - he would likely be heard even in these conditions. It was not a big jump so he decided against jetboots, instead he jumped up the short distance to grab the edge of the roof and used his momentum and all the strength in his arms to pull himself up and over. As he hit the flat roof he rolled with his extra inertia and grabbed his blaster carbine from under the shield on his back.

The final standing attacker saw the movement in his peripheral vision and spun around, nearly slipping over in the process. By the time he had regained his balance Death Bringer was bringing his blaster to bare. Pulling the trigger on his machine gun the attacker decided to start firing first and bring his weapon aim around to the prone mechanoid later. With surgical precision Death Bringer blew the machine gun into molten slag before its ammunition could reach him. The mobster yelped in a most unprofessional manner as he dropped the ruined weapon and dashed towards his prey to seek revenge in a traditional hand to hand fashion. Placing his blaster carbine in the deep puddle that was the roof Death Bringer stood up to receive his guest. At the last instant before the man was to smash into Death Bringer, hoping to push him off the roof, the mechanoid lashed out with his foot and kicked in the side of the other's knee. A nasty cracking sound emanated as the poor fellows leg bent in sideways. As he collapsed Death Bringer caught his face in his left hand and released a deadly squirt of hydrogen cyanide from his palm. The attacker was dead before he hit the ground.

Though in a serious state of shock the adrenaline rush was keeping the other attacker conscious. His legs were all but amputated from the knees down but he could still put a phaser rifle to good use. He watched in disbelief as Death Bringer dispatched his friend as easily as he did a civilian, easier perhaps. Death Bringer, empty handed, turned to glare directly into his eyes. The attacker threw his weapon aside, more than a little afraid for his life.

* Anymore of you? * demanded Death Bringer as he dropped his prisoner onto the floor next to the other in the hallway. After nearly passing out due to falling on his mangled legs the pale mobster shook his head weakly.

"Talk boy!" shouted the old lady.

"I work for Colloff's mob - somebody hired us to kill you and capture a compound full of Klingons..." he said lightly and rested his head against the wall, eyes closed.

* Klingons, eh? Who hired you? *

"Vequess..." the mobster mumbled as he fell into unconsciousness.

* Vequess? * Death Bringer asked the woman.

"The utilities station, dear, that's the only thing on Mount Vequess."

* The volcano? *

"That's what I said, wasn't it? Now, what shall I do with these two?"

* Contact the authorities, yes? *

The old lady moved towards them both and pushed their heads together. "If you don't want them, there's only one thing for these mob kids..." she stepped back and shot them both in the head.

* Cold. Could grow to like you, yes? Ever need a job let me know, eh? *

Leaving by the more conventional front door, Death Bringer pulled a comlink from one of his belt pouches. He keyed it to call Dilon and then to the Klingon frequency he had been given. Both were jammed. He stood there, buffetted by the wind and rain, looking in the direction towards the Federation compound, then the Klingon compound and finally settled on where Vequess would been seen in better weather.

* Time to go to the source of the problem, yes? *

***************

"Shut up you idiot." Gennarelli hissed at her boss, Interior Minister Crookall, who sneered back at her.

"You heard me - you may as well take that mask off - I can smell you're a Klingon from here!" Crookall directed at the apparent leader, who was pointing a disruptor at him.

"Quiet, or I'll make you quiet." the Klingon threatened.

"You're not fooling anyone!" the bound Interior Minister continued regardless.

"Rich, this isn't helping anyone, just relax..." President Sankey said in a deliberate fashion.

For a few awkward minutes there was an imposed silence, more because of the President than the Klingons, who were looking increasingly trigger happy. Dilon looked around the rough circle that they had been forced to kneel in around the center of the room. Only the President and Security Agent Kassulke would meet his gaze, the others appeared afraid that even eye contact may single them out for a nasty death by the Klingons. The exception was Crookall who appeared to be holding back a simmering rage, the reason for which Dilon couldn't immediately understand. Since taking them prisoner the Klingons hadn't mistreated them, unless you counted the uncomfortable position they were forced to sit in. They hadn't made any demands or had any further contact with the outside world since they secured the compound.

Much as he tried Dilon couldn't figure out a way to activate the comlink in his pocket. They all had their hands tied behind their backs with some form of restraining device. One of the others may be able to get at his communication device if he could get up behind them. There was no way to move off their spots without being killed by their captors, though, and at all times at least four of the Klingons were circling them.

"I assume you're not the brains of the operation - who is? What do they want?" Crookall demanded of the leader, clearly feeling enough time had elapsed to ignore the President.

"Quiet or I shall kill you right this instant!" the Klingon growled.

"Do you know who you have here?" Crookall said ignoring the threat.

"I know enough - be silent!" the Klingon shouted.

"Rich..." President Sankey warned.

"That's the Federation President!" Crookall exclaimed, nodding at Sankey. "I'm the Interior Minister, next in line after the Deputy-President! If anything happens to us our black ops teams will hunt you down and torture you until you wished you were never-" Crookall was interupted when the lead Klingon rushed towards him and kicked him hard in the stomach. The Minister doubled over and fell forwards onto the floor. He was clearly struggling to breathe.

"Last warning - I will kill you!" the Klingon leader promised.

"You don't have the guts..." Crookall gasped out with the side of his face pressed against the damp dirty carpet.

The Klingon was taking no more and grabbed Crookall by his arms and pulled him onto his unsteady feet. The next thing Crookall realised was the his restraints had been undone and the Klingon threw them aside. He was shoved to the side of the room by the minibar where there was plenty of space. The lead Klingon ripped his black mask off, not wishing to fight when hiding behind a disguise. The other Klingons in the room took that as a cue to do the same. Dilon glanced around at them. He didn't recognise any but it looked to him as if they were all from the same extended family.

One of the others walked towards the leader and drew a dagger. The leader accepted it and, with his other hand, drew his own. "Choose your weapon." he demanded of Crookall and held them both out towards him. The other Klingon retreated to the edge of the imaginary arena, leaving only Crookall and the leader in that half of the room.

Crookall grabbed both knives and backed off quickly to get a proper grip of each. The Klingon laughed in enjoyment.

They glared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. It was Crookall. He lunged at the Klingon with both blades. The unarmed Klingon easily dodged to the side and they began their war of nerves again. The Klingon kicked out at Crookall's left hand and succeeded in sending one of the daggers flying. Worried that the Klingon might rush towards the dagger now lying on the floor Crookall carefully sidestepped towards it, never taking his eyes off his challenger - at least not until he had to quickly glance towards the weapon to confirm its exact position. That was all the Klingon needed to use his left leg to kick the other knife from Crookall's right hand. Suddenly panicking, Crookall dived towards the first blade but was jumped on by the Klingon. The two of them struggled to stop the other getting at the knife, a tantalizingly short reach away. Crookall was losing, despite the Klingon not using his full strength. The Minister tried to push the Klingon off but to no avail. In return the Klingon gave him a savage head butt that dazed Crookall for a few seconds. Before he knew what had happened the Klingon was leaning over him with the knife and slashed the side of his face. Crookall cried out at the burning stinging sensation and the Klingon laughed in typical Klingon fashion. Crookall tried to grab the knife from the other's hand, no longer worrying about being cut, desperate not to be fatally stabbed. His hand wrapped around the thick blade and he felt it cut in but wasn't able to wrestle it from the Klingon. Pulling the knife from within the clenched fist of Crookall the Klingon decided to have take his real revenge. The dagger plunged into the Minister's side, who gasped and passed out. One of the other Klingons barked something unintelligible to his leader who glared back at him for several seconds before finally nodding in agreement.

***************

Not the most comfortable ride up the side of Mount Vequess, huh? Still, good of the mob to leave their keys in the ignition, yes? Weather was no better but at least the repluselift mechanism on their speeder had been upgraded, otherwise would have had no chance of scaling the volcano, eh? Had expected a welcoming party but things turned out more painful than would have liked...

The hovercar struggled up the last few hundred metres of the 1.5km high volcano, using what little of the steep slope it could to anchor its anti-gravity field to. The wind and rain was constantly trying to pull it away or smash it into the side of the hard rock and despite Death Bringer's best efforts the chassis was seriously buckled by the bumps and scrapes when he finally managed to put the vehicle down on the landing platform.

The Utility Station was precariously balanced on the crest of the volcano, below it on one side was a virtual sheer drop to the city below and the other a great reservoir burrowed out from the core of the extinct volcano. Massive pipes jutted out of the station on each side, drawing water into the station from one and pumping water and electricity down the other.

Up on the top of Mount Vequess the wind wasn't dampened by surrounding buildings and Death Bringer had to be especially careful not to be blown of the platform that sat atop the creaking and lightly swaying Utility Station. He fought his way through the elements to reach the small cylindrical building on the edge of the platform that led to the lift. Thumping the button to call the lift Death Bringer gripped one side of the door frame and retrieved his blaster carbine with the other. When the door slid open Death Bringer was presented with a lift and a tripoidal sentry gun aimed directly at him. The gun control systems appeared momentarily unsure if Death Bringer were a target or merely a piece of machinery, he certainly didn't give off much in the way of organic life-signs. Death Bringer sidestepped the open doorway just as the sentry gun decided it best to open fire. A volley of red blaster fire flew out, leaving steam trails behind as it cut through the thick hard rain. Death Bringer nudged his gun around into the opening and blasted away at the sentry gun. Before it could react to the movement it was on its side fizzling. Death Bringer peeked around to confirm the way was clear and thanked whoever invented the things for not making them mobile.

As was common in Federation designed bases (and this was basically an off-the-shelf Federation design bought and adapted by the inhabitants of Venwi's Claim) the lift had an emergency escape hatch at the top. Death Bringer keyed the lift to hold the door open longer and then to descend to the lowest level. While the doors were waiting to close Death Bringer pushed open the hatch and jumped up and pulled himself through. Keeping the hatch open Death Bringer crouched on top as the lift door closed and he felt the pod begin to rapidly descend.

It quickly became clear that the lift was not descending at a natural rate, in fact it was in free fall. Obviously he was expected to get this far. It didn't use cables to ascend and descend, instead relying on anti-gravity technology not unlike that of the mob's hovercar. This gave Death Bringer nothing to grab hold of - the walls were smooth and shiny and where the emergency ladder should be there was nothing.

* Hmm, done on the cheap, yes? Back-handers from the construction firm, eh? * Death Bringer complained to himself. Judging from what he saw of the level control panel he couldn't be that far from the control deck. He prepared himself to pounce at the first sign of a door. He didn't have to wait long. At the first sight of the top of the closed door he jumped, giving a little bit of thrust from his jetboots to help counteract his momentum. He timed it perfectly and his fingers grabbed the bottom lip of the doorway. His body clanged against the smooth metal wall below with an echo. He looked up wondering how to make the door slid open, especially from his precarious position. Letting go with one hand he reached over his shoulder to grab his blaster from his back again. He stared up at what appeared to get an emergency open control panel and let go with his other hand. He pushed off from the side and before gravity got a good downward hold of him he fired his jetboots. As he came up to door level he blasted the control panel. By coincidence rather than design, but nonetheless advantageous, the lift crashed into the bottom of the shaft at almost the exact same instant that his blaster bolt ripped apart the panel. The door slid open and he landed on the other side of the doorway, gun held in both hands pointing ahead. This time there was no sign of a welcoming gift.

Death Bringer found himself on a metal gantry high above some noisy and rather large machinery. Ahead he could see an office suspended from the ceiling. It was the control room and someone was inside.

* Should have known, yes? Been expecting me, huh? * Death Bringer called out to the familiar figure. The figure moved into the open doorway of the control room and, in his bounty hunter armour, gave a single slow nod.

* Take it you don't want to be friends, right? * Death Bringer asked as he stowed away his blaster, pulled his signature locking missile from his back and plugged it into the socket left by removing his right hand. Terak threw himself to the ground whilst firing the antipersonnel net gun on his left forearm. Death Bringer's missile flew over the bounty hunters head as the net ensnared Death Bringer.

The gantry shook violently as the missile exploded, taking out the back of the control room. Twisted pieces of metal fell to the floor below. Death Bringer, caught up in Terak's net, fell forwards onto the gantry, struggling to extricate himself. Terak eased himself up onto his elbows and pressed another button on his left forearm. Electricity surged down the line attaching Terak's arm to the net, towards Death Bringer.

* Ghaa! * Death Bringer cried out in pain as his body was racked by the electrical pulse. He managed to reach around and grab his vibro-axe from his back and plug it into his interchangeable right forearm.

Seeing that Death Bringer was about to cut his way free Terak detached himself from the net before it could be used against him, stood up and pulled a DEMP gun from his left holster.

Slicing through the net as if it were no more than a cobweb to him Death Bringer cut his way free and assumed a kneeling position. On the narrow gantry with no room for maneuver, other than back into the lift shaft, Death Bringer could do little to dodge the blasts from Terak's DEMP gun. The electro-magnetic pulse from each blast caused his body to convulse in agony. In between blasts Death Bringer swiped his arm towards the distant Terak and released his vibro-axe towards his foe. The now unpowered axe arced through the air and embedded itself in Terak's shoulder, causing the bounty hunter to stagger back into the smoke filled control room.

Death Bringer leaned forward, regaining his strength in what little time he had bought himself. It was then he noticed that the gantry had been rigged with something.

Looking up towards the control room Death Bringer saw Terak, still with the axe embedded in his shoulder and now leaning against a control panel, pull a device from a belt pouch and press a button on it.

A massive amount of electricity coursed down the gantry, arcing and sparking, before one side of the gantry collapsed dropping the stunned freelance peace keeping agent towards the machinery below.

* EEEEAAAAA! * Death Bringer cried as he fell sideways into the machinery, which grabbed his right arm and lower right leg in its internal workings, literally shredding them.

***************

"You've got to let one of us help him!" pleaded Gennarelli to the Klingons as she watched them drag the unconscious form of Crookall onto the settee.

"Allow me, I'm medically trained." Security Agent Kassulke said, the lead Klingon now appearing to consider it. The leader turned to consult with the other Klingons and they appeared to agree with his thoughts.

"You, boy! You can help him." the Klingon said pointing at Dilon.

"Me? I don't like the sight of blood too much..." Dilon admitted.

The Klingon clearly was not in the mood to argue, grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him up. Dilon felt the Klingon undo his restraints and he was then shoved towards the settee.

"We could do with some medical supplies." President Sankey stated to the Klingons.

"I'll see what I can do." the Klingon leader said rather sarcastically.

Something bleeped and the Klingon leader pulled out his communicator and stomped off to the far side of the room. The conversation was short and whatever it was about the Klingon appeared to agree, though reluctantly.

Dilon really did have little idea about first aid but with what few supplies he was given he was able to bandage the wounds. Within ten minutes Crookall had regained consciousness and, though weak, didn't appear to be in immediate danger. Though Dilon didn't know, either by good fortune or design the Klingon had managed to choose an area of the abdomen where relatively little damage would be done by his stabbing.

One thing that Dilon couldn't help but notice was that the number of Klingons in the room was slowly decreasing since he was untied. Now there was but three of them.

Within another couple of minutes another of the three Klingons had left, like his colleagues going further into the building. Crookall had noticed this too and was clearly trying to muster his strength for something.

Saying something about finding wine the Klingon leader and his colleague wandered off into the kitchen leaving the Federation delegation alone.

"Go - quick get to the shuttle! Get help!" Kassulke whispered loudly to Dilon.

"Come on kid!" Crookall said in a pain filled voice as he heaved himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Mr. President..." Dilon said uncertainly.

The President simply nodded reassuringly. Dilon took purpose from this and grabbed Crookall to give him extra support as they rushed out of the bedsheet covered hole in the walls.

Dilon couldn't believe their luck as the boarded the little craft without being spotted. He helped Crookall into a seat, pressed the door close button and rushed to the pilots seat. Doubt hit him then.

"But the President-" Dilon started.

"Will probably be killed if we try a suicidal two-man rescue! The Dauntless is in the asteroid belt - it could be here in twenty minutes. Now, get me the hell out of here!" Crookall demanded.

Powering up the anti-gravity generators Dilon lifted the shuttle off the ground pushed straight into full throttle.

***************

Hmm, not a pleasant experience at all. Definitely one of those missions best turned down, yes? Assuming I can get out of this one alive, huh? Really must stop this and wake up, yes..?

* Wake up, yes? * Death Bringer said grogilly to himself, not being entirely successful.

"Maybe this will help?" Terak's voice drifted into Death Bringer's consciousness as if strangely distant. A savage blow to the head from the butt of Terak's blaster pistol did indeed wake Death Bringer up. Death Bringer noticed with disappointment that his axe hadn't cut as far past Terak's armour than he thought. It was still a very nasty wound, nonetheless, but clearly wasn't slowing the bounty hunter up.

* Going to tell me your master plan, huh? * Death Bringer remarked as he tried to pull his mangled limbs from the machine that was still straining to pull the rest of him in.

Terak shook his head and looked down at a device that was clearly counting down towards something.

* Hired the local mob to capture or kill the delegates, yes? Hope to destroy the allegiance talks, right? *

"Something like that. I don't have time to talk..." Terak said, the smile on his face obscured by his mask but evident in his voice.

It was then that it struck Death Bringer. Terak had planned to take out the entire city, delegates, mob and all, with the aid of a volcano full of water.

"I see you've got it. You won't be alive to see the spectacle." Terak said plainly and pressed his blaster against Death Bringer's mouth grill.

Death Bringer's left forefinger flipped open and a large metal spike slid out which he drove into Terak's chest.

"Argh!" Terak screamed as he pulled himself off Death Bringer's data probe but that wasn't the last of it. No sooner than Terak had unimpaled himself Death Bringer squirted a jet of liquid hydrogen cyanide over the area and Terak howled in pain.

Terak let off a couple of indiscriminate blasts at Death Bringer. Death Bringer's chest exploded in pain and the last thing he saw before falling back into unconsciouness was Terak staggering back, look at his timer and run off.

***************

"They should be here any second." Dilon said nervously as the sped out of the atmosphere towards their rendezvous point with the USS Dauntless.

"Any they can't contact the surface either?" Crookall asked, already knowing the answer.

"That's what they said five minutes ago..." Dilon said, beginning to wish he'd left Crookall behind. At least the Federation crew were more likely to believe the story with Crookall to confirm it.

"Oh my god!" Crookall exclaimed as he saw a Klingon cruiser decloaking out of the window. "Power up weapons!" he ordered Dilon.

"What? They're on our side - they're the ones who sent me on this mission!" Dilon exclaimed as he recognized the ship.

"They're Klingons - you remember, the ones that did this to me? They have Sankey!"

"No, I-" Dilon started, it was at that moment that the Dauntless appeared from warp directly in front of them.

The communications screen lit up and the face of Captain Stern appeared.

"Shuttlecraft, dock with us now." Stern ordered with considerable urgency. Dilon did as he said.

The shuttlecraft crashed into the back of the shuttle bay, despite the dampeners. Dilon always had trouble with take offs and landings. Fortunately their speed was minimal, thanks to the dampeners, and neither of them were injured.

***************

Get the feeling Terak gets too much enjoyment from his job, yes? Lost his objectivity. Personal grudge, perhaps? Not good for business, huh? Like being trapped in a building about to explode and be washed away, yes? Ah, time to wake up again I think. Time to wake up, yes? Wake up, yes? Wake up, yes?

* Wake up, yes... Wake up, yes? * Death Bringer chanted semi-consciously.

Slowly he regained consciousness again. This time there was no Terak to be seen. He looked down at the gaping wounds in his chest, they probably look worse than they are, he hoped.

Unsure of how long he had left before the entire place went up, he weighed his options. Terak would have given himself plenty of time to reach his ship and get out before it was too late. Had he been conscious Death Bringer would have had plenty of time to escape too. The problem was he had no idea how long he had been there. That, and the fact he was trapped in a machine by the shredded remains of his right arm and lower right leg.

Having thrown his axe at Terak, and having no idea of its fate, Death Bringer was left with using a spear to slowly, painfully, hack away at his mangled limbs in the desperate hope of escaping to the hovercar before the Utility station was destroyed.

It took him several long minutes to amputate the remains of his trapped limbs and he had to be especially careful not to let the machine get a hunger for what remained of him. Death Bringer pushed himself off the machine and onto the floor about a metre below.

Unable to walk and not possessing the strength to even attempt to hop or crawl Death Bringer dragged himself across the floor to the the fortunately close by lift. What he would do when he reached the useless lift shaft he had no idea - it was the only way up to the landing platform.

* Terak probably been rigging side of volcano for days - must find a way to disable all those detonation packs, yes? * Death Bringer strained to say to himself.

The entire building shook. At first Death Bringer thought Terak had miscalculated, perhaps the volcano was stronger than he thought? It was then that a low rumble began to shake the place apart and suddenly the building dropped from underneath him. The building around him began to buckle and disintegrate.

* Hmm, just my luck, yes? *

***************

Dilon stepped out of the turbolift on the Dauntless bridge.

"Minister Crookall is in your infirmary." Dilon said unnecessarily to Captain Stern, who already knew.

"We can't get a lock on the President, or anyone for that matter." Stern informed Dilon.

"What you mean you can't transport them up?"

"That's exactly what I mean. I've contacted your Klingon friends over there and they aren't having any more luck - they are in the exact same situation, or so they say. I'm going to shuttle down a team to take the place."

"What?! They could kill the President!" Dilon exclaimed.

"No, my people can gas the place, there will be no casualties and we can have it solved in minutes. Not to mention find out who those Klingons are who took you prisoner."

"Sir, the Klingon shuttle has lifted off. Wait! Something's happening to Mount Vequess!" one of the other officers called out in a slightly panicked tone.

"What? I thought you said it's been dormant for centuries!"

"It's collapsing!"

"Show me!"

The viewscreen that was previously fixed on a planet-wide view of Venwi's Claim snapped in to look at the city. Sure enough one side of the volcano, the side facing the city was crumbling. As they watched the entire side errupted in a blast of water. The Utility Station and the rock suspending it collapsed into the torrent.

"Beam them up! Now!" Stern ordered, knowing that all they could really do was watch.

"We still can't get a lock, sir!"

The entire bridge descended into silence as they watched half a billion cubic metres of water smash its way through the city, washing away everything in its path.

"The President..." one of the officers said.

"DB..." Dilon said in a state of shock.

Both the Dauntless and the Klingon vessel immediately mounted rescue missions. As the city was utterly destroyed so were the jamming devices that prevented radio communication and transporters, too late to save anyone.

The bodies of the Federation and Klingon delegations were quickly picked out from the natives by the rescue teams. They had all perished. Aboard the Klingon shuttle was a lone man, Gowron, the Klingon Chancellor.

Of the half a million inhabitants less than three thousand survived. In the carnage it proved impossible to locate the remains of Death Bringer.

THE END.

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: For the fun of it

The tiny control centre rocked as the gantry outside, leading from the ceiling suspended room to the turbolift, broke from its struts. Tonb Terak was too busy to confirm if his handwork had indeed managed to dump his opponent into the deadly machinery below. The blood curdling cry of pain intermixed with the sound of the machinery mangling Death Bringer was enough to convince the injured Terak.

Leaning up against a control panel, Terak used both hands to rip the axe from his shoulder and gave a cry of pain of his own, this one through gritted teeth. The armoured figure looked down at his wound, almost tempted to remove his helmet to get an easier look but his natural reluctance to reveal his face prevented him. It was not a deep wound, his armour had defused most of the impact, but the shallow wound was already beginning to open up far more than he would like. He pulled a small canister from his belt and sprayed the area with a fine mist of bacta, mainly to prevent infection until he could get better treatment on his ship.

The bounty hunter sat for a few moments to regain his strength before venturing toward the door and swinging gantry beyond. Terak was pleased to see the walkway had indeed given out on one side, dumping the mechanoid toward the floor of the vast Venwi's Claim Utility Station below. He leaned out slightly and looked down to see Death Bringer caught up in the machinery below, as he had planned. Terak stepped out of the doorway into nothingness and fell, just missing the swinging gantry rail to his side. With a controlled burst from his jet-pack Terak landed effortlessly on the floor by the machine below.

Approaching Death Bringer, Terak was disappointed and somewhat surprised to see his foe had survived, albeit in less than perfect condition. The unconscious mechanoid had clearly lost his right arm and a good part of his right leg in the machine - the twisted metal bone and shredded artificial flesh caught in the machine that was straining to pull more of the mechanoid into its inner workings.

* Wake up, yes? * Death Bringer mumbled as he attempted to bring himself around but succeeding in only gaining semi-consciousness. He was clearly in considerable pain.

"Maybe this will help?" Terak said, relayed with a slight artificial quality, through his helmet's systems. Terak spun his blaster pistol around in his hand and brought the butt down onto Death Bringer's head with all his weight. Terak regretted it instantly as he felt the sudden and violent movement tear at his shoulder wound. He could see in the eyes of the mechanoid that the other was taking the situation in.

* Going to tell me your master plan, huh? * Death Bringer finally said after the blow brought him back to full consciousness.

Terak shook his head, when faced with certain death this mechanoid would make light of the situation. The thought reminded Terak to check how long he had left before the explosives, which he had carefully placed below the Utility Station, would go off. Terak glanced at the countdown device - less than five minutes. No time to mess about if he wanted a margin of error in returning to his ship. Like all people of his ilk, Death Bringer included, he wasn't about to sacrifice himself for a contract, even one paying as much as this one.

* Hired the local mob to capture or kill the delegates, yes? Hope to destroy the allegiance talks, right? * Death Bringer managed to get out, hoping to prise some vital piece of information from Terak.

"Something like that. I don't have time to talk..." Terak said with amused vagueness, not that it mattered if Death Bringer found out all he did, which was in fact rather little anyway. It amused Terak further as he saw the pieces slowly fall into place for Death Bringer, so evident in his facial expressions. "I see you've got it. You won't be alive to see the spectacle." Terak said as he pressed his blaster to Death Bringer's face - better he kill him now than give him the chance to escape.

Without warning the forefinger of Death Bringer's remaining hand flipped open and out shot a nasty looking metal spike - a dataprobe usually used for interfacing with computer systems. Before Terak could react the mechanoid drove the large spike into Terak's chest.

"Argh!" Terak expelled as he quickly tried to pull himself back and off the impromptu weapon. As Terak extricated himself Death Bringer followed up with a jet of liquid hydrogen cyanide from a hole in his palm. The deadly poisonous hydrocyanic acid squirted over Terak's chest, some of it hitting his newest wound. Terak couldn't help but howl in pain.

Bringing his blaster roughly to bear on Death Bringer, Terak squeezed off a couple of shots. Both bolts tore into the mechanoid's chest, ripping holes through his rib cage. Terak staggered back, his blaster clattering to the floor, as he saw Death Bringer fade into unconsciousness or death. Terak grabbed his own chest with one hand whilst fumbling for the remains of his bacta with his other.

Stumbling toward the small service hatch, leading out to the crest of the volcano known as Mount Vequess, Terak applied the last of his spray to his chest and checked the countdown. He had time still, just. He had one last thing to take care of before he left. He pulled a special comlink from his belt, preset to a frequency he had deliberately left clear from his jamming devices, and pressed a particular button.

The Avenger 2, Terak's spherical spacecraft, was nestled up against the side of the Utility Station, looking down upon the city below, at the foot of the volcano. Terak thumped the door release and staggered through into the craft. The door slammed shut behind him and he immediately slapped the ships intercom.

"R4, Destination B" Terak ordered the little droid on the flight deck, one level above. He knew the droid would follow his instructions to the letter and, as he felt the craft lift off, made his way directly to the medical bay to immerse himself in his full body bacta tank.

Keeping close to the ground the Avenger 2 disappeared behind the horizon so not to be seen by any ships in orbit above Venwi's City. Terak saw on the medical bay monitors a real-time holographic representation of the city side collapse of Mount Vequess. Another monitor displayed an interior monitor view of the Utility Station, just above the jamming field that had knocked out much of the communications of the city below. With amazement and a grudging respect Terak noted that Death Bringer had in the past four minutes managed to regain consciousness and cut himself free. Using the control pad on the inside of his bacta tank Terak keyed for the image to zoom in on the stricken mechanoid. Death Bringer was pulling himself across the floor to the turbolift, minus an arm and lower leg, each stump with straggly bits of artificial flesh hanging limply from them. The last image the camera relayed before it was destroyed showed the Utility Station being torn apart as the rock that supported it collapsed and millions of cubic metres of ferocious water from the great reservoir ripped the place apart, engulfing everything - mechanoid and all.

Terak allowed himself as much of a chuckle as was possible in his situation.

*********************

The bedroom light flicked on, the sudden glare rousing Pauline Preston from her slumber. She pushed herself up into a seated position, shielding her eyes whilst they adjusted and kneed her husband in his ribs to wake him up.

"The President..?" she asked, sensing from the intruder that something was badly wrong.

Dallymore nodded solemnly to the Deputy President's wife as she approached their bed. Pauline sat there stunned, barely conscious she was continuing to knee her husband, who was now slowly regaining awareness.

"What is it, woman?" Jon Preston spat out, less than happy to be woken. He looked into the eyes of Carolyn Dallymore, commander of Presidential Security and the Secret Service, and remained oblivious to the less than subtle signals. "What? Can't a man be allowed a decent nights sleep anymore?" he complained.

"Sankey..." Pauline whispered, knowing that something was wrong but not quite being able to bring herself to believe it.

"Yes. There's been an acc-" Dallymore began quietly, not knowing how to phrase it. "An incident at the conference..."

"You don't mean he's dead, do you?" Jon Preston blurted out tactlessly, the grogginess only slightly worsening his usual manner. Pauline Preston shot him a look that was totally lost on him.

"Indications are... Yes..." Dallymore said, in a state of shock herself.

"Bloody hell - so I'm the President!" Jon Preston said with a little too much glee.

"Jon! He's dead for god's sake! What happened?" Pauline said, barely able to keep her temper in check.

"From what little information we have so far, it appears a large dam burst and, well, washed away the conference city. One of our ships is there and mounting a rescue mission but indications are that virtually nobody's survived..." Dallymore said in a subdued tone.

"So, he may be okay? He could be one of the survivors?" Pauline prompted, hope evident in her voice.

"They don't think so... We'll know more later. We're sending three disaster relief ships to the area immediately but we're not holding out hope."

"What about that bast- What about Crookall?" Jon demanded.

"I'm told he escaped the area before the - accident. As did at least some of the Klingon delegation." Dallymore relayed what little solid information had come back from the USS Dauntless.

"You don't think it was an accident?" Pauline said, easing herself off the bed.

"It's not at all clear. We're assuming not, for now at least." Dallymore said, watching Pauline Preston getting out of bed. "The press don't know any of this, until we have confirmation, obviously..." she didn't like the way Pauline appeared to have something in mind.

"And what do we tell them when we do get confirmation?" Jon Preston spat out. "We've kept this entire conference to ourselves. We even told everyone that Sankey was on holiday! What are they going to think of us when we say he was killed during a secret conference with the Klingons? The press will bloody well murder us!"

"Do shut up Jon, we're worry about that later. I'm going to get some breakfast." Pauline stated.

"It's three in the morning." Dallymore informed her gently.

"Well, it's going to be a long day, might as well get it started." Pauline countered.

****************

A customized Loronar SkyBlind Recon Ship descended through the thick atmosphere of Formalhaut 5, toward one of the numerous large domed cities. Air Traffic Control for Lucifer City had been forewarned to expect the craft and it was directed to a prebooked docking bay.

What laughably passed for customs on Formalhaut 5, and especially Lucifer City, had been bribed to ignore docking bay 93 for the day. An apparently lone figure stepped out of the shadows to greet the bounty hunter descending down the spacecraft ramp.

"My associates are very pleased with your work." Mr. Gates said, with a smile that wasn't quite right somehow. He pulled a dark velvet pouch from his pocket, loosened the cords around the top and spilt some of the contents into one of his palms. "After your previous - partial success - I'm glad to see you've finally earned these." Mr. Gates said, spreading his finger around in the flawless diamonds in his hand, watching the way the dim lights caught them. He poured them back into the pouch and handed it over to Terak. "There are plenty more where those came from."

Terak took the pouch and immediately stowed in his belt, not even bothering to take much notice of the weight, let alone check the goods for himself. He wasn't in it for the money anymore. Once, long ago, he was. But not anymore.

"We have confirmation that the Federation President is - taken care of. We also know that Mr. Crookall and Chancellor Gowron survived and that both sides suspect the other. Now we have an equally interesting challenge for you Mr. Terak." Mr. Gates began.

*******************

A figure stepped out of the cylindrical booth into the starless night of London. He paused to look at the watch on his right wrist, balancing his weighty brief case as he did. Sir Basil Rutherford noted the time, already automatically synchronized to the local time zone, and it was exactly as he had expected - he was late, again.

Rushing on foot from the small group of public transporter units on the end of his road he failed to notice the figure watching silently in the shadows. The cool night breeze caused a brief shiver to run down Rutherford's back, it was certainly cooler here than the San Francisco midday sun he had just left, not that he had actually ventured out of the air conditioned offices of Starfleet.

Fumbling for an old fashioned metal key Rutherford stood perched atop a small set of concrete steps, leaning against the old wooden front door to his town house. This was the premier part of London, as it had been for centuries before and little had actually changed in that time. There were rarely any vehicles driving down the street now though, in fact it was more common to see a replica Victorian horse and carriage than a modern hover vehicle, thanks to the tourists and transporter technology. At nearly nine o'clock on such an autumnal evening the streets were deserted.

After a bit of jiggling the key turned in the lock and Rutherford promised to himself, as he did almost everyday, that he would get someone to restore the aging lock. Unfortunately such skills were rare nowadays as almost everyone had electronic devices but that wasn't the case for anyone down his street, such things were not even considered here.

Slamming the door behind him, the only way to ensure it closed properly, Rutherford dumped down his brief case in the hallway and shook off his raincoat, throwing it successfully onto the hat stand.

"Henrietta?" the middle-aged civil servant called softly down the hallway.

"Sshhh, just got them off to bed." whispered a similarly aged woman as she stood in the living room doorway.

Rutherford nodded knowingly and followed her into the comfort of the room beyond. "Sorry I'm late, all hell's broken loose at work, spent all day at Starfleet HQ."

"Oh? I haven't heard anything, though I haven't listened to the news tonight..." Henrietta Rutherford said, sitting down in her favourite armchair.

"I'm sorry, how was your day?"

"Same as ever - you know how our client's are! Nothing interesting - what's your news, then?"

"I don't know, that's it, nobody would say. Preston was in meetings all day, hush hush meetings, even I wasn't allowed in. Spent all day hanging around in case they needed me. Whatever it is I wouldn't be surprised if it were to do with these other universe groups. I expect President Sankey is on his way back from holiday as we speak."

"It's that bad? Maybe the news has something." Henrietta turned towards the large luxuriant curtains at the end of the room and called out "News, current headlines, BBC" A foot or so in front of the curtains a two dimensional image faded in to show the logo of Henrietta's preferred news and current affairs broadcaster. The spinning globe logo was replaced by a news presenter behind a desk who began to rattle off the latest news headlines.

"The Alpha Quadrant governments are expressing open alarm as the Galactic Empire consolidates it's recent capture of Klingon Supply Yard and Construction world Swi'Vey by annexing a further two systems around it. Klingon protectorate Rendereax and neutral zone system Plamax have both fallen to the extra-universal forces.

Representatives of the major worlds in the neutral Triangle, the center of the current conflicts, have grouped together and are petitioning the Federation, Klingon Empire and Orion Republic to protect them. None of the three surrounding governments would comment on the requests.

Back on Earth, reports of the events in the Triangle have prompted libertarian groups to hold a mass rally. Three quarters of a million people have descended on the center of Geneva causing widespread disruption to the transporter networks, local citizens and services. There have been numerous reports of small scale rioting, looting and civil unrest and police have been said to have asked for assistance from the military to disperse the crowds. More on that as we get it.

In other news, the flu epidemic sweeping Olympus Mons has begun to subside three days after the mass vaccination programme undertaken by the Martian authorities.

And in sport, the Iraki Aquas have beaten the England Gliders, knocking England out of the world cup..."

"Off." Henrietta called out to the hidden holographic emitter. "Doesn't sound good, does it? No wonder Preston has spent all day at Starfleet HQ, sounds like there is a real situation brewing out in the Triangle, not to mention here..."

"Yes... I don't know, there was something... it was almost like panic at Starfleet, hanging in the air. Yes the Klingons should be panicking but those two minor worlds shouldn't have caused such sudden alarm to our top brass..? I just don't know..." Basil Rutherford leaned back in his chair, let his head flop back and stared at the high ceiling.

"Is that front door open again?" Henrietta shivered at a draft coming in from the hallway. "We really must get someone in to see to it." she complained, getting up and walking towards the living room door.

An armoured figure stepped into view, blocking Henrietta at the rooms threshold. She gave a small yelp of surprise that caused her husband to look around at her from his chair. For a second neither of the Rutherfords knew what to do or say and stared disbelievingly at the intruder.

Terak shook his blaster slightly to order Henrietta back into the room and away from the exit. She complied. The bounty hunter followed her in and, again with a mere gesture, ordered her into the chair next to Sir Basil.

"What do you want with us?" Basil asked uncertainly but no answer was forthcoming.

For several minutes the three of them remained virtually motionless with not another word muttered. The Rutherfords sat looking up at the terrifying figure before them, not daring to move in case he shot them for it. Terak patiently stared down at them, knowing time was on his side and the value of fear.

"Take whatever you want, it's not worth our lives or our chil-" Henrietta began meekly before stopping abruptly, realizing she had said too much and now her children's lives were in danger too. Terak cocked his head ever so slightly, enough to ensure that without being able to see his face they would still know he acknowledged the final remark.

"Please take all of it, just don't hurt any of us- You're not here to rob us are you?" Basil said with sudden understanding. Earth still had its problems but the fair distribution and sheer quantity of wealth was not one of them. There were very few robberies and burglaries anymore and most criminal behavior was recognized and fixed before it became an issue. Basil knew that it had to be about his job. "I don't know anything about what's going on right now - I swear. There's nothing I can tell you..."

Using his blaster again, Terak pointed at Henrietta and then to the door. She understood and, with legs like jelly, stood up and walked out of the room. Terak followed her out. Basil remained seated and heard the two of them ascend the stairs. He was almost petrified with fear. He glanced over at the replica early telephone and wondered if he should call the police. Part of him was wanting to do it but not enough. He remained frozen in his chair thinking of what would happen to his family if he tried to call for help. Basil remained like that for what seemed an eternity for him, unable to excise images of his family being brutally murdered upstairs and hating himself for not being braver or smarter than he was. It was eerily quiet.

In reality it was only a couple of minutes before Henrietta and Terak returned, this time accompanied by the two children, Timothy and Charlotte. The ten and eight year olds looked sleepy, confused and very frightened, both clutching onto their mother.

"I'll tell you absolutely anything you want, anything, just please don't hurt them." Basil pleaded with the impassive masked figure. Terak gave a slow single nod, which opened the floodgates. Basil spouted off, somewhat incoherently, everything he could think of about the government and his boss, Jon Preston, the Deputy President of the United Federation of Planets.

For almost an hour Terak stood statuesque as Sir Basil hurriedly blurted out everything that came to mind in the desperate attempt to save his family, even if it probably did mean the end of his career. Terak pieced every scrap of information together to form a framework in his mind, each little fact reinforcing or reshaping his understanding. Henrietta did what she could to comfort her two sobbing children. By the time Basil was faltering Terak already knew enough. As a twisted thank-you for his efforts Sir Basil was the last of the four Rutherfords to be executed.

*******************

"I've got an update for you, sir" Dallymore said to the shattered Deputy President, looking just as fatigued herself.

"Yeah?" Preston said sounding not completely interested. The two of them, and several others beside, had been awake for thirty-two hours straight, it was now approaching four o'clock in the morning in the San Francisco situation room.

"We've now recovered the last of the Federation delegation and we have DNA confirmation that the body we found twenty hours ago was the President..."

"Why'd it take so long?"

"To identify him?"

"yuh..." Preston half yawned.

"It's total chaos down there. Two Starfleet relief ships have now arrived, as you know, and we've already found a few survivors, just under five hundred. That's of about half a million by our latest figures..."

"Is that it? Do you think I really care about a few dead natives?"

"Well, no, er, Mr. President." Dallymore said, for the first time someone called Preston by his new title. He looked up at her, suddenly aware he was slouching. He shifted his not inconsiderable weight and took a long look around the large oval table and then beyond to the windowless situation room now occupied only by the two of them. Preston had retreated here to escape the various officials, politicians and military commanders that were running around like headless chickens. By rights they should all be meeting around the famous situation room table but the earlier meetings had broken up and fragmented about to various personal offices around the complex.

Sensing it was time to get Preston back home Dallymore prepared the way. "There is one more thing, sir." Preston turned back to her. "I've gotten reports of a Klingon and a human kid causing the Dauntless and the rescue teams some trouble. It seems they have found evidence of a suspicious craft leaving the area of the Utility Station minutes before the disaster. They've apparently left in pursuit. Should we send the Dauntless after them or continue to coordinate the rescue effort?"

"A Klingon and a kid?! How will we look if the press ever found out we left a rescue mission to chase after a Klingon and a kid? We've got an investigation team heading out there, let them look into it."

"The FIA team will be there in a few hours. Time to head back to London, Mr. President?"

"You're not bloody wrong, it must be light there by now."

"About four hours ago."

Exhausted the two of them headed down the hall to the transporter room. Two immaculately dress-uniformed guards saluted the new President without knowing that he was, at least in practice, now the President of the Federation. In theory he would have to wait until he was sworn in but nobody seemed ready to take that move, even though constitutionally it should already have happened.

"Downing Street" Dallymore instructed the transporter operator as they assumed positions on the pad. Before they knew it they were both standing in a basement half way across the world.

"Transporter inhibitors back up, sir." the London transporter chief said cheerfully. Preston simply grunted in return.

The two of them made their way up the narrow but plush stairs to the ground floor. It was there that they met Pauline Preston.

"You both look terrible. Would you like some lunch?" Pauline asked, always ready to get into the kitchen despite the fact they had a maid on hand.

"Give it a rest, woman, I just want some sleep." Preston said more angrily than he would dare do to her if he were more awake.

"Fine, well you enjoy your little sleep Mr. President" she responded sarcastically and saying -his new title as if it were an insult. She stormed off. Jon Preston grumbled something under his breath.

"We're going to have to make arrangements for your swearing in. We've got the speaker and leader of the opposition ready, they're both here on Earth, thank goodness. We'll probably use Judge Hugh, if that's okay. We'll do it as soon as you're ready." Dallymore said, trying to remember the procedure she was told less than an hour ago.

"Who says ambition counts for noth-" Preston began as they ascended the famous stairs, watched by pictures of past British Prime Ministers. Initially he began to marvel at how easily he had become Prime Minister, then elected by his Earth regional peers to also represent his world as Earth President, then to also be named by Sankey as his Deputy and now... It was then that he noticed something odd, something he'd never seen before. "What the bloody hell is that..?" he said urgently, pointing at a small green metal device attached between two eighteenth century prime ministers.

"It's a bomb! Get down!" Dallymore shouted, instantly recognizing the item.

********************

"Who are you?" demanded Preston to the newcomer.

"Charles Hill, Dallymore's boss?" the young man responded, expecting Preston to recognize him.

"Oh, yes. I'll only deal with Dallymore. Where is she?"

"I told her to get some rest - but it appears she ignored me." Hill said, seeing Dallymore approach the two of them siting in the back of the incident van, double rear doors open, across the street from Preston's official London residence.

"Report, Commander." Hill ordered Dallymore.

"We've just had confirmation it was a Klingon device. It was easily disabled but was clean."

"Clean?!" Preston exclaimed.

"As in deliberately cleaned of organic residues such as skin cells, sir. We can't immediately trace it back to anyone." Dallymore explained.

"Bloody Klingons. Do we still think it was them that killed Sankey?" Preston said angrily.

"We don't even know it wasn't an accident yet, not for sure." Hill said as neutrally as he could.

"Why don't you shove off, Director Hill! Where the hell were your people when they planted this device?" Preston countered.

"If I may, sirs?" Dallymore interjected to both bring order and impart an important piece of information she had received moments before. "We've just had an anonymous call, to the Police, of an armoured figure running toward the Aldwych embassies from this direction."

"Embassies? How did they..? Have them all contacted and warned, it could be our man. Heck of a long way to run, though..." Hill ordered. Preston looked at him as if he thought the other was being deliberately obtuse. Who else could it be but whoever planted the Klingon device?

"We're already doing that, sir. I'll check on their progress. I've also ordered a special forces team on standby." Dallymore said as she walked off toward the large group of police and security service personnel gathered around a makeshift incident room tent a bit further down the road.

"I'll keep you informed, Deputy President." Hill said as he stepped out of the van to follow his colleague.

Hill approached Dallymore, who was already in a rapid conversation with one of the other security operatives.

"Found him?" Hill asked her.

"Perhaps. We can't contact the Betazoid consulate." Dallymore said to him without turning to face him.

"Fantastic. This is getting out of hand. I'm getting Preston to the emergency transport, gather the others we need for the swearing in. I'm taking them to Safeworld B, we can do the ceremony en-route. I'm leaving you to deal with the Betazoid situation." Hill ordered.

"Yes, sir." Dallymore acknowledged, half turning to look at him in the corner of her eye. Hill stalked off toward Preston but Dallymore remained frozen, watching her boss shrink into the distance of her peripheral vision. She was only brought back to reality a moment later by another colleague handing her a strong cup of coffee.

******************

"Their transporter and sensor blockers are up, we can't get so much as an infrared reading on the place, sir." the special forces commander relayed to Dallymore.

"You would have thought Betazoids would be less worried about their privacy." Dallymore replied, sounding exhausted again now the adrenaline had worn off from the Downing Street incident.

"On the contrary, sir, I think being able to hear each others thoughts make them even more paranoid about it. Besides, it is standard procedure to protect all important governmental facilities. My men are ready to take the place, if that is what you still want, though I would suggest you contact the Betazoid government first, this is sovereign territory, sir."

"We don't have time for that, commander. Goodness only knows what's going on inside there. Given the events of the past few days I can't take any chances. Send them in." she ordered.

"Are you sure you don't want to contact the Betazoids first? This could become a diplomatic incident..." the special forces commander warned, less than thrilled to be taking part in what could so easily go down in the history books as a monumental mistake.

"Only if we mess it up. If this goes well we will look decisive in the face of terrorism. You've told your people to use stun gas and non-lethal phaser settings unless absolutely necessary, yes?"

"Yes, as you instructed. We'll do all we can to protect the Ambassador and her staff. For the record, I think we should seek permission, or at least inform, the Betazoid government."

"Noted. Go in." Dallymore was quickly losing her temper. Never before had she known a special forces commander to so worry about the niceties of interplanetary politics.

The commander grimly nodded his acceptance of the order, turned to look out of the window of their hastily borrowed room, to the Betazoid consult across the street. All looked quiet and peaceful, at least for another thirty seconds.

**********************

The last member of the group hurried up the small metal ramp, Hill encouraged speed with his urgent 'get up here' gesturing. The ramp began to swing up before the old man even had time to get off it. The Starfleet Runabout, heavily modified to look like an old private yacht, ascended gracefully into the air.

"Lucky I'm on Earth, they say to me." the old man groused. "I don't feel very lucky, certainly not being stuck in this old rust bucket."

"Take a seat, Mr. Speaker. This could be a rough ride." Hill said to the straggler of the group. In this case there was a good excuse for being the last to show, besides being over a hundred years old the Speaker for the Federation Parliament was also in the middle of a meal with the President of Japan up until fifteen minutes before. He was warned he could be needed at any second but didn't really expect the call for a good seven or eight hours, or so he was told to expect by Hill's people.

"Why the hurry? What's going on... what did you say your name was?" the Speaker wasn't nearly as senile as he liked to make out and he greatly enjoyed playing up his old age.

"Hill, sir. This is purely for your protection and that of, soon to be President, Preston's." Hill said as if he were explaining it for the fifteenth time.

"Why can't we sit with the others?"

"We can go through into the common room once we've left the atmosphere. Until then we must remained seated here, sir, for our own safety." Hill said resignedly, wondering why it had to be this old man who was last. He would much prefer to be stuck in the small vac-suit/tools area with the leader of the opposition, the Vulcan's leader, Sakin, or even the oafish Preston. Next time he would wait before giving the lift off signal so they'd have time to go through...

"I've never had a smoother ride..." the Speaker began and indeed it was a textbook flight. It was then that he noticed the vac-suit locker across from him slowly swing open.

****************

Three black open-sided aircraft glided in at considerable speed down toward the Betazoid consulate, from three different directions. As one, black armoured special forces soldiers jumped from sides of the vehicles, trailing cords that attached them to their transports. The vehicles stopped abruptly just in front of the three exterior walls to the building. With perfect timing the soldiers all ran out of cord slack just as the vehicles stopped. With the help of their forward momentums they all swung toward and crashed through the large windows around the top and middle floors of the consulate, a dirty grey smoke trailing behind each of them. More of that grey smoke suddenly exploded outward as the tethers went lose and the vehicles turned and speed off, this time heading off in the same direction.

Dallymore watched on from across the street, in constant communication with the the Special Forces commander next to her and his men.

Inside, the black gas-masked figures rushed from doorway to doorway, always throwing in a small gas grenade before each venture into another room. Their goggles gave them almost perfect vision despite the thick chocking gas. Using a combination of hand signals and brief code words they quickly secured room after room but so far had seen no resistance or any sign of any hostages.

As per the plan they all convened on the central hall on the ground floor. That was considered the most likely place for the hostages to be held as it was the largest open area. The special forces team split into three groups of five, as they had arrived, and each took one of the three large sets of doors around the grand hall. With a brief radio signal the three teams stormed the room. The doors exploded inward. Two of the five on each door took cover around the sides and threw in gas grenades. Before there was even time for the grenades to hit the floor the other three of each group stormed in. The nine of them each took a different angle to cover. As the smoke grenades exploded and spewed forth the familiar dirty grey gas the other six stepped into the doorways to cover their colleagues. All fifteen of them scanned about to locate their quarry. All they saw were ten Betazoids tied together in the middle of the room. It was then they noticed that some of the hostages had devices strapped to them. In perfect formation and without the slightest hint of panic all fifteen soldiers ran backward toward the doors they had entered by, never once taking their eyes, or weapons, off the hostages and the grand hall. Green gas began to escape from the devices on the tied and gagged hostages, it was then that the soldiers realised that they weren't wired up with explosives but gas canisters. The initial nine soldiers quickly moved in on the unconscious Betazoids in an attempt to free them from the unknown gas. The other two on each door stepped into the rooms beyond to double check they were still secure for a rapid exit. The Betazoids were quickly cut free from the canisters and each other. It was very clear that they were all dying, their life signs could be seen to be falling on the soldiers' goggle displays. In teams of two they quickly lifted up the unconscious forms and rushed them into the rooms around, away from the green gas cloud. Before any of the Betazoids had even left the grand hall they were dead.

Dallymore looked, stunned, at the special forces commander. "Get medics in there, quick. Get those transporter barriers down and beam them out. Do... something!" she shouted at the commander.

The commander shook his head glumly. "There's nothing we can do for them. Look - I've got a chemical breakdown on that gas from my boys' sensor telemetries. It looks like whoever rigged them up expected us to use gas. Doesn't look like this stuff would have been lethal on its own, only when combined with a gas like ours would it cause... well, it combined to form some type of protoplasmic poison, it seems. One things for sure, there'll be hell to pay for this... What's more the building is clear, there's no sign of whoever did this..."

Dallymore leaned over in her seat, doubling up with her head between her knees, wishing to do nothing more than sleep. Sleep forever.

************************

Searing pain burst its way through Hill's chest. The force of the blast knocked him from the chair he was half siting in as he turned toward the figure climbing from the tall storage locker behind him. As the life ebbed from him his thoughts raced around and around. Why didn't he do a full security check of the runabout? How did this attacker evade his sensor scans? How did he know about this contingency plan - only Hill's own people, Preston himself a few select senior officials were supposed to know. Will he defeat this attacker? Will he ever see his family again... It was then his severely damaged heart gave out, his blood pressure dropped to nil, he lost consciousness and slowly died.

Terak stepped over Hill's body and confronted the old man sitting in front of him. The Speaker appeared shocked but by no means terrified. There was a steely defiance in the old man's eyes, not to defend himself, as he had clearly decided that would be a pointless and undignified gesture, but to face down his killer with resolve. Pausing briefly to acknowledge the Speaker's determination Terak could sense his victim recognized the admiration. His usual enjoyment of a termination was somewhat dulled in this case, Terak blasted a large hole through the old man's forehead to make it an instant death.

Despite Terak having carefully silenced his blaster the muffled sound still reverberated around the little room. Expecting the worst Terak pressed his back against to the wall next to the door heading further into the vessel. There was a jolt as they went to warp. Terak waiting a few minutes to see if they had heard the two blasts and were going to respond. With no sign of that he hit the door control.

Judge Sara Hugh stood up, her dress with large polka dots looking particularly out of place. None of the three of them in the common room where given time to change before being rushed off to the runabout by Hill's people. Jon Preston, despite his plump proportions, was looking rather haggard and staring blankly across the cabin. The other man, Sakin, looked calm and rational, just as his Vulcan childhood had drummed into him. Sakin's simple robes gave away no hint of his importance, did you not recognize his face you would have no way of knowing he was the Vulcan premier and official leader of the opposition in the Federation parliament. Together with the Speaker and two witnesses, Hill and his pilot, they were all that were required for Preston to take the Oath of Office and assume the position of Federation President. Hill was to record the proceedings for distribution to the press once the death of President Sankey was unveiled. Unfortunately, the ceremony would never take place.

"Shall we get this over with then, gentlemen?" Judge Hugh prompted the other two. Before either of them could respond the door at the back of the room slid open. The three of them turned, expecting to see Hill or the Speaker.

A volley of invisible blaster bolts ripped through the judge and sent her large frame crashing into the wall opposite. The Vulcan jumped to his feet and with surprising strength and speed knocked into the side of Terak. The two of them crashed into the wall. Preston became alert for the first time since having left Downing Street and reached over to punch the pilot cabin door release not far from his position. The pilot briefly glanced around to see who was at his door and did a double take at the unlikely scenario he had glimpsed. Terak saw the door open and the pilot beyond and knew he must prevent the pilot from sending a distress call. Sakin's incredible strength was pinning Terak to the left wall and holding his right arm, gun and all, against Terak's side. If Terak shot his blaster he would likely take his own leg off and had no chance of bringing the gun to bear on the pilot. Twisting suddenly to the right Terak was able to free his left hand. Instinctively knowing his left forearmed positioned net gun would do little to stop a distress button being pressed, Terak instead reached down toward his left knee and pulled out a fusion cutter. As the pilot keyed his panel to prime a distress call Terak, rather awkwardly, threw the ignited cutter toward the pilot. It was a better throw than he could have hoped given his predicament and the fusion cutter sliced a deep wide groove in the back of the pilot's neck. It was a bit lower than he was hoping but did the job just as well, the pilot collapsed forward onto his control panel. Sakin responded by suddenly pulling Terak back from the wall, twisting him around and thumping him back, face first, against the wall again. Terak's helmet clanged against the metal bulkhead and Terak, taken entirely by surprise by the Vulcan's strength, dropped his gun.

"Who are you?" the Vulcan asked, sounding more curious than angry. Terak wasn't in the mood to answer questions. The bounty hunter was pinned to the wall again, this time front on rather than side on, the his helmet pressed against the wall and his free hands trying to push away to lessen the pressure on his neck. The Vulcan leaned against him with all his weight - he was a tall man, much more so than Terak, and well built with it. There was no way Terak could free himself with brute force. Two jets of flames erupted from Terak's jet pack, not enough to actually give any significant upward momentum but more than enough to roast the Vulcan. Sakin jumped back with a cry of pain, his robes ablaze and literally melted to what remained of his upper legs. Terak spun around with his new freedom, pulling a vibroblade from his belt as he did so. As a single motion he spun around and slashed the blade across the burning Vulcan's throat. Sakin, rapidly resembling a torch, fell to his knees and collapsed forward at Terak's feet, dead. An automatic fire suppression system kicked in and a conical force field projected down from the ceiling, enveloping Sakin's body. Starved of oxygen the fire followed its host into death. Terak stepped around the force field to confront his real target, Jon Preston.

Preston laughed uncomfortably. "Look, if you want money, mate, you can have it all. I've got a pretty penny stashed away for a rainy day, you see..." Terak just looked at him inscrutably. Preston gave up that tack as his short temper gave out for the last time "You could have killed me anytime, you bloody bastard! It was you who planted that bomb at number ten, you wanted it to be found, it was probably you who made that call about the embassy as a diversion! You've been playing with us. Why?!" Preston stood up, his anger boiling over to the point where his sense had left him. "It's just a bloody game to you, huh?" Preston lashed out with a heavy punch to Terak's face. Despite his helmet taking most of the impact Terak was nonetheless knocked back a step and Preston, instinctively from his boxing days, pressed his apparent advantage and grappled the bounty hunter. Preston tried to wrestle him to the ground and a savage head butt from Terak did nothing to slow him up, Preston was fighting for his life. Terak was, as ever, enjoying the sensation of letting the prey get the upper hand, he liked the challenge of fighting his way back to victory. Preston was a large man, he enjoyed his food and was renowned for never walking anywhere, though he wasn't particularly fit his size did bring some inherent strength and a great deal of weight to bear forth. The two of them slammed to the ground next to the still smoldering remains of Sakin. Preston eased himself up to prepare to pummel Terak from above but before his could fully balance his weight Terak held his right fist in his left hand and with the power of both arms cracked his right elbow into Preston's jaw. Preston rolled off Terak onto Sakin and, slightly stunned, spat out blood and bits of shattered tooth. Terak, much fitter and nimbler than Preston, jumped up into a prone position and, again, brought his hands together for a powerful elbow. This time he didn't just rely on the strength in his arms but instead aimed all his weight down onto Preston's not inconsiderable stomach. Preston tried to roll out of the way but was only successful in making a half turn and Terak's elbow instead succeeded in striking one of Preston's kidneys. In extreme agony Preston completed his roll onto his front, next to Sakin.

Terak grabbed one of Preston's arms and turned him over, he liked to see his victim's face as he killed them. That was one regret of his last mission to kill President Sankey, he hadn't even had the chance to meet him let alone kill him face to face. The same regret he had about the Betazoid Consulate but at least there he got to subdue them personally, even if he did have to leave it to the Earth security forces to inadvertently kill them. He wondered if his plan had succeeded.

"Why?" Preston choked out. "Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance before..." Preston said as best he could, now actually looking forward to the release of death, it had to be better than the past couple of days, after all.

"For the fun of it." Terak said simply, though not mentioning his secondary target, he could have finished Preston with much less trouble than he chose to.

Terak stepped over to his fallen blaster, crouched down to pick up, stood up and returned to looking down at Preston. Aiming his weapon between Preston's eyes, he stood there immobile for several long agonizing seconds, wondering if Preston had any fight left in him. He didn't. The single invisible blaster bolt ripped a large hole centered on the bridge of Preston's nose and blew the back of his skull clean off. Terak lingered over the body for a moment, wondering how many others had killed two such important people in the space of a week. Not many, he ventured a guess. Not many at all.

THE END

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: The Five Spires

"It's collapsing!"

"Show me!"

Captain Stern and his crew watched the indistinct computer scrubbed image of Venwi's City as the near side of the volcano, known as Mount Vequess, collapsed outward. The Utility Station balanced precariously atop the rim of Vequess was ripped down from its perch to join the expanding torrent of reservoir water escaping from its containment in the vast funnel of the dead volcano.

"Beam them up! Now!" Stern ordered, knowing that all they could really do was watch as the unstoppable wall of water crashed into the city.

"We still can't get a lock, sir!"

An eerie silence descended on the bridge of the USS Dauntless as they watched in total disbelief as half a billion cubic metres of water smashed its way through the city, washing away everything in its path. And there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop it. They were powerless observers and each and every one of them knew it.

"The President..." one of the officers whispered.

"DB..." Dilon said in disbelief.

For a few long moments only the sound of the bridge instruments dared invade the still atmosphere, even the sound of breathing had disappeared as each crew member involuntarily held their breath.

A particularly insistent beep roused the Ops officer from his reverie. He looked down at his panel and began swiftly tapping virtual buttons. Captain Stern took his gaze from the viewscreen to study his officer.

"The jammers are down..." Lieutenant Delany said incredulously. The rest of the bridge all suddenly turned to face him and then, almost as one, darted back to begin work on their own control panels.

"Then beam them up!" Stern urged, suddenly feeling the desperation of the tenuous possibility.

"I can't get a lock, not on anything-" Delany said urgently and somewhat panicked.

"You must!" Stern roared, anger and frustration boiling over.

For several more moments all the bridge crew, despite their official roles, all tried to get some kind of sensor trace on their delegation, especially the Federation President. The torrential rains and the vast amount of water in the atmosphere were already giving their sensors severe problems but that was nothing compared to the small ocean that was ripping apart everything in its path. They boosted and amplified their sensors and did all they could to filter out the water. They began to get readings for large chunks of buildings that were settling in the slowing wake and now well underwater. Bodies began to appear, erratically, on their sensors but they could not determine life signs, if there were any to be found.

Captain Stern ordered rescue teams to assemble immediately in the shuttle bay. All the the Dauntless shuttles, from smallest two man shuttlepod right up to the largest Type-7 shuttlecraft, were hastily launched with unprepared teams to save whomever they could. The transporters were out of the question as long as the sensors were having trouble resolving real detail down there, not to mention that nowhere was safe enough to put down a team in the now expanding lake that was once the only city on Venwi's Claim.

The shuttles, continually battered by the savage rain, made slow runs low to the surface and using either onboard emergency transporters or old fashioned makeshift winches pulled the few survivors to safety.

*************

"No, as we were sending our teams down Gowron hailed us, hissed something about war and we'd pay for what we've done - I'll send you a copy of the transmission - and they cloaked and went to warp."

"How could you tell that if they were cloaked, Captain?" Admiral Dobbs asked, not really paying much attention but instead finding himself wondering how in hell he was going to break the news of the President's almost certain demise to the Federation top brass.

"I think they wanted us to know, deliberately weakened their cloak. They didn't even mount a rescue mission for their own people. Only Gowron from their delegation survived, escaping in a shuttle, just one life sign, barely seconds before the incident-" Stern said, still in a state of shock, and was interrupted by the voice of his first officer coming over the intercom.

"Sorry, sir - we've got a Klingon vessel decloaking, it's - it's small..." Commander Anderson said, sounding suddenly unsure.

"Sorry, Admiral-" Stern stood up and without permission from his superior pressed the button on the base of his Ready Room desk screen to cut the connection. He rushed onto the bridge, already on yellow alert ever since Dilon and Crookall left the surface. Dilon and Crookall being the only survivors from the Federation delegation who had been fortunate enough to escape their captors and grab a shuttle before all hell broke loose down there.

The viewscreen showed a bizarre vessel, of clear Klingon origin, but quite unlike anything Stern or any other member of his crew had seen before. It appeared to be little more than a large cannon with a control room bolted, rather haphazardly, on the back. There was no discernible drive mechanism, that is until they realised why the cannon was facing away from them - it also acted as the primary propulsion system!

"Hey - that's Ki'yak!" shouted the scrawny adolescent from the back of the bridge, excited to see a potentially friendly face. Had he stopped to think about Dilon would probably not have been quite so happy to see the gnarled old Klingon, given even Dilon could see he was quite unhinged and had especially poor personal hygiene, even for a member of his race.

"We're being hailed."

"Put it through, Lieutenant." Stern ordered warily.

"Federation - I demand you show me Death Bringer." the grisly old Klingon growled through the pungent looking steam haze that slightly obscured him on the viewscreen.

"Klingon, er, representative - the person you refer to is currently missing, presumed dead." Stern replied. Dilon, considering himself Death Bringer's closest friend, was visibly shocked by Stern's remark. Stern continued, not noticing Dilon's reaction at the back of the bridge. "If you wish to deal with anyone you deal with me."

"Dead? He can't be dead, he couldn't be part of my theatre..." Ki'yak declared, his eyes darting about wildly.

"Ki'yak, it's me, Dilon!" Dilon shouted out before Stern could even begin to formulate a response to Ki'yak's bizarre statement. "DB's stuck down on the planet, we're looking for him and the others!"

"Gowron blaming Death Bringer for attack - One Eye, on his ship, leaked to me." Ki'yak said.

"One Eye?" Stern asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Canteen fight - I burnt his eye out with acid," Ki'yak said with relish, before continuing matter of factly, "he enjoyed it."

"We are not-" Sterns began before being interrupted again by Dilon.

"It wasn't us - a group of Klingons attacked our delegation!" Dilon shouted.

"Huh?" came Ki'yak's typically erudite reply.

*******************

Er, this is Dilon here. I've once or twice heard DB talking to himself, he said he was working on his memoirs! In his absence I've decided to do the same. So here it is. Erm, well where do I start? We managed to persuade Ki'yak that it wasn't us who had anything to do with the destroying of Venwi's City. He seemed just as sure it wasn't his people and I think I believe him, even though we were taken hostage by a group of Klingons. He thinks they might be part of a disgraced group (er, what did he call them? A house of Klingons - I think I'd call them a stink of Klingons!) Where was I? Oh, yes - Yeah, he thinks a group of rogue, a rogue house, of Klingons might have been responsible but he was told a group of humans took Gowron's delegation prisoner. Something odd is going on, for sure. Unfortunately Captain Stern's people haven't been able to contact the Klingon leaders - it seems they've broken off diplomatic, er, well they're not talking to the Federation. Luckily for us Ki'yak knows me and DB. I think he trusts us, as much as he trusts anyone. He agreed to help me look for DB, if only to see what answers he might have.

We went down to the makeshift emergency centre that Stern was setting up on some high ground next to where the city used to be. Ki'yak's ship has some form of repulselift drive to enable it to land, lucky for me - not! We searched the area looking for signs of DB. I want to to know what I'm going through to rescue you, DB - I threw up again when I went in Ki'yak's ship - I'd forgotten how awful it was in there - he pees and craps in a bucket in the corner of the one and only room! The smell is just dreadful and it all slops out when we make a tight turn... Eugh! I think I'll get a lift back in a Starfleet shuttle.

Right now we are in the emergency shelter. They've just captured a trading vessel that was coming in as the volcano burst and they're questioning the pilot. Me and Ki'yak are going in to question him any second.

"He's all yours, gentlemen - he claims not to have seen anything..." the Starfleet Lieutenant announced as he left the small cubicle tent that would otherwise be used to treat survivors, like the other twenty or so others under the large rain shield.

Dilon and Ki'yak stepped into the makeshift interview room tent. Dilon didn't recognise the species that confronted him but that wasn't unusual in his own universe let alone this foreign one. Dilon sat down at the table, opposite the trader. Ki'yak wasn't one for niceties, however.

"Speak or die!" the short but stocky Klingon growled down at the Dopterian.

"I saw nothing." the trader declared with a certain amount of relish, deliberately ignoring the intimidation.

Before the Dopterian trader knew what was going on Ki'yak had kicked the chair out from underneath him and was holding him by the scruff of the neck.

"Tell me!" shouted the Klingon. The commotion had caught the attention of the Lieutenant, who rushed back into the small tent and stood by the doorway unable to decide what to do.

"I... I got something on my sensors - an echo. Nothing much, I swear!" the trader blurted out to Ki'yak. It took a second or two for the information to sink in at which point Ki'yak threw the shorter alien against the back of the tent and stalked out, butting past the Lieutenant on his way. Dilon scurried after him.

******************

We, er, persuaded the Starfleet officer to let us into the trader's light freighter. Inside we found a way to get at his sensor logs and discovered faint readings of what could have been a ship. It looked like it had deliberately kept low to the surface until it was the other side of the planet to Venwi's City and the Dauntless above. That's when the trader picked it up, as he was entering the system from that direction. It then left the atmosphere and probably went to hyperspace. We took a copy of the logs but didn't have the equipment to enhance them. I only knew of one computer system able to do that and, if we were lucky, determine a hyperspace route - the Prestinium.

It is my guess that whoever was in that ship has DB, or at least knows what happened to him. I was able to persuade Ki'yak to take me back to the Klingon starbase, fortunately not too far away, being near the Klingon border as we were. I don't even want to think about that journey in Ki'yak's ship - I promised myself never again after the first time. I've now been stuck in there five times! The smell follows me wherever I go... I changed my clothes since returning to the Prestinium and showered twice - I think something has nested in my nose...

Anyway, I got back here to the now repaired Prestinium and me and Ki'yak are heading for somewhere he calls Formalhaut 5. The Klingons have done quite a good job of repairing the ship and they've even given me detailed star charts of this universe, or what they know of it. None of them seemed too pleased to see me, I don't think I'd be welcome back again until we've proved the humans have nothing to do with the death of their delegates.

Well, as I said, I managed to enhance the sensors and the readings are incredibly close to what little we saw of Terak's ship (we assume it was his ship) three or four weeks ago when we escaped the Imperial Garrison world. It took a little while to calculate his probable hyperspace vector, but DB knows how to kit out a ship to follow someone, and we came up with Formalhaut, probably planet 5. So, we are now on our way there. If Terak has captured DB I'll rescue him.

Little did Dilon and Ki'yak know that they themselves were being followed. The small black triangular ship slipped into hyperspace after them, completely undetected. Some twelve and a half hours later the lone occupant detected the Prestinium leaving its hyperspace, different from his own, and ordered his ship to join them in real space.

With a flash of pseudo speed the Prestinium exited hyperspace above Formalhaut 5. Seconds later a small jump point opened several thousand miles behind them. Out flew their pursuer, not causing a blip on even the first class sensors of the Prestinium.

"What a desolate dump!" Dilon exclaimed. "There's a few domed cities down there - which should we go for?" Dilon asked Ki'yak who was busy chewing his ancient leather sleeves, believing he could taste the blood of everyone and everything he had ever slain with a blade upon it. It was his way of reminiscing, of passing the time - he wasn't used to company on trips anymore and hadn't been for decades.

"Biggest one. Rexmundi, they call it." Ki'yak said, still chewing on his left cuff.

The Prestinium eased down toward the capital city on the barren, scorched world. After gaining landing clearance they entered into the large slot that had opened on the side of the transparent dome and into the docking bay. Upon landing a customs officer approached the ship and waited the short time for the Prestinium's entry ramp to lower.

Ki'yak had visited Formalhaut 5 before, many years ago. Nothing appeared to have changed. It had a reputation for being free of both political entanglements and lax in enforcing what few laws the planet pretended to have. Each of the ten major domes effectively acted independently of one another, having their own administration and law enforcement. In practise they competed with one another to get the most money flowing through their complexes and, given the sort of people the place attracted, that meant they competed on how free, how lawless, they were. What big business interests existed were either striping the planet of its abundant heavy metals or tapping into the virtually molten worlds vast natural energies. Everyone else either leached off the corporations, used the place for smuggling or as an escape from justice in the more civilised areas around the edges of the Triangle.

"Anything to declare, gentlemen?" the unkempt customs officer in the poorly fitting worn out uniform asked.

"Yes - I want information!" growled Ki'yak as he and Dilon descended the ramp toward the officer.

"What are you carrying?" the customs man asked, ignoring the implied threat.

"I'm looking for a ship! Tell me where it is!" Ki'yak grabbed the customs man by the front of his jacket and shook him violently.

"We're looking for either of these two." Dilon said, trying to sound authoritative but failing, his nerve was already giving in.

The customs officer pulled himself free of the shorter Klingon, pushed his chest out and glowered at Ki'yak. "I'll have to report this, assaulting a Customs Official is a serious offence."

Ki'yak growled and was about to launch himself at the pompous stranger when Dilon stepped between them. "Give him some money." Dilon said to Ki'yak.

With a resigned grunt Ki'yak fished about in his pockets and pulled out a couple of slips of gold pressed latinum. He literally forced them upon the customs officer who would have been more than keen to take them but only after feigning outrage at the idea.

"I really shouldn't let you bribe me but as you've been so... polite..." the officer said before looking at the datapad Dilon was holding at him. On it were two pictures, one of Death Bringer and the other a New Republic archive shot of Terak. "No. Sorry, I haven't ever seen either of these two gentlemen. Not knowingly, anyway. Do you have pictures of them without those helmets on? If not - I can't help you."

Dilon shook his head. Ki'yak growled again.

"What about the ship?" Ki'yak demanded.

"What about what ship? We get a lot of ships through here."

"His ship!" Ki'yak said pointing at Terak's picture.

The customs officer rolled his eyes. Dilon quickly started tapping on the datapad and brought up the hazy picture and stats of the ship that had escaped from the scene of Venwi's City the previous day. "This one." Dilon said, thrusting the datapad in the customs officer's face.

"Hmm, no, sorry. I see almost every ship that enters here but never anything like that. Try the other domes."

"That could take days!" Dilon exclaimed.

"Sorry, kid, I don't know what else to... actually, yes I do. You could try talking with the clearance guys, they see pretty much everything that happens on this side of the planet. If I weren't so busy I could show you up to the control room..."

After coughing up another slip of latinum Dilon and Ki'yak were escorted into the restricted administrator section and introduced to the duty officer on flight clearance.

"We're looking for this ship." Dilon handed the datapad to the controller.

"Are you indeed?" the overweight flight clearance controller said uninterestedly, scratching away at one of the numerous food and drink stains down his uniform.

"We can pay..." Dilon prompted Ki'yak who was rapidly getting fed up of bribing people, he was much more used to beating information from anyone who was less than forthcoming. He dug into his pocket again and retrieved the last slip of latinum and threw it at the controller.

"I'm rather busy..." the controller said, pocketing the slip.

"We can pay more..." Dilon prompted Ki'yak again. Ki'yak shook his head.

"No more - tell us or die!" Ki'yak gave the controller a simple choice.

"Oh, keep your lid on. I'll take a look." the controller sighed, wondering why he always got the cheap ones coming to his desk. Cheap and violent.

It didn't take him long to find a possible match. "This could be it. Here, what, twenty hours ago? It didn't actually put through this dome, it got clearance at Lucifer City - about 800 miles west of here. Its definitely got some kind of stealth technology, it hardly appears on my scopes but I'm sure that's the one. It left again, well, about half an hour later. That was a flying visit."

"Where did it go?" Dilon asked, suddenly exciting to have a lead.

"I don't know - up. Out of the atmosphere. Away from F5. I dunno, what am I, a psychic?"

"Give us your logs." Ki'yak demanded.

"Er, we might be able to track where he went if he entered hyperspace in your sensor range." Dilon added.

"Knock yourselves out, time for my lunch anyway." the controller said, indicating his panel. He shuffled out of the room, pausing at the door. "Don't mess anything up or you'll be stuck here like the rest of us."

They were extremely fortunate, wherever the ship was going the side of the planet that both Rexmundi and Lucifer occupied happened to be facing that way at the time. Dilon transferred much of the raw data across to his datapad, it had to be done manually as the interfaces didn't match, and they returned to the Prestinium to calculate the likely destination.

Using the Klingon supplied star charts it could be only one place, another backwater Triangle world, a place called Achenar.

*********************

"Hey, I recognise this place - this is the planet we nearly hit after accidentally coming into this universe!" Dilon exclaimed from the Prestinium's flight deck. Ki'yak, who was sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to him, was too busy scraping the bottom of his now shoeless feet with his matted straggly goatee. Dilon tried to ignore the activities of the foul and currently contorted Klingon and reminded himself how much worse it would have been to travel in Ki'yak's ship.

Without saying another word Dilon aimed the Prestinium at the city Death Bringer and he had encountered last time. He was determined to bring them down safely, if anything so he could rib Death Bringer about it - the last time Death Bringer had been piloting the Prestinium they crash landed on this very same planet.

As they approached the lifeless but perfectly preserved city Dilon noticed what could be the sensor blip they had been looking for. Getting closer the sensors then confirmed it, this was exactly the same signature of the ship that had fled Venwi's Claim immediately after the incident.

"There, that's the ship - Terak is here!" Dilon said, making the mistake of turning to look at Ki'yak as he did so. "Eugh! What are you doing you savage! Put your shoes on before I collapse at the wheel!" Dilon could hardly contain his revulsion at the Klingon's latest activity - licking the fungal infected gaps between his toes.

"Wow - look at the sensors - there used to be a big tower there in the center of the city. DB blew some of the insides out with a thermal - look, now there's five of them!" Dilon said excitedly as the Prestinium descended toward them and the two ships next to the pentagonal group of rock spires.

Ki'yak was the first down the ramp. He rushed across the rocky ground, aiming for the spherical ship a few hundred metres away in the shadow of one great spire. Dilon was more cautious, he'd visited before and didn't trust the place one bit. He cautiously scanned the horizon and took in the unreal scene before him. Where once the city centre had stood, with its small drab municipal blocks, now there was a barren rocky landscape dominated by the five great rock spires, down the sides of which were large alien glyphs that glowed as if somehow alive. Beyond the large pentangle of spires the rocky ground gave way to concrete. The roads and buildings that had surrounded the city administrative centre still lay there, as if nothing were amiss. It was if a large patch of the city had been ripped from the face of the planet and surgically replaced by a piece of hell itself. The thing that most worried Dilon was that it had grown - where there was one spire, now there were five. The other disconcerting aspect, the thing that had most alarmed Dilon on his first visit, was the quietness of the world. There were no people, no animals, no sounds of machines, nothing but the gentle wind to keep you company. It was as if everyone had suddenly vanished from the face of the planet.

Closing up the Prestinum's entry ramp behind him Dilon jogged over to Ki'yak who was attempting to break into Terak's ship, with little success.

"Die you filthy fecker!" Ki'yak shouted at the door control as he began stabbing at it violently, and with as little accuracy as possible, with his dagger. He managed to smash his way into the controls and they fizzled but otherwise there was no effect - the large door, about twice the height of Ki'yak, remained sealed.

"Hey, let me before you destroy any chance of getting in there without a lightsabre!" Dilon said tetchily. "Ow!" Dilon exclaimed as he elbowed Ki'yak out of the way and thrust his hand into the control system, receiving an electric shock from the mangled wires.

After many minutes Dilon gave up - he'd had enough electric shocks and small cuts for one day. "Oh, I give up. Let's take a look at that ship instead." Dilon said pointing across to the third ship in the area. Ki'yak immediately recognised it, after failing to notice it before, as an Orion light freighter but neglected to let Dilon in on it.

Equal failure presented itself when the two of them attempted to break into the Orion freighter, only this time they didn't try quite so hard. Giving up, they made their way across to the nearest giant beige rock spire with its eerie glowing symbols. Standing at the foot of the structure they ware struck by the sheer size of it, each symbol alone must have been at least twice their heights, probably more like three of four times. Over a thousand metres tall in all, they couldn't really make out the top this close to it.

There were no guards, no indications of life, only a single large door. It was clearly hewn from the same rock as the rest of the spire. It was the only evident join in the rock, the rest of the spire appearing to be cut from one, very very large, piece of stone. It was a massive door, on a grand scale in keeping with the rest of the spire. There was no obvious opening mechanism, it was just a plain slab of rock slightly recessed from the face of the spire. They took one last look around before venturing forth to the door.

There was the sound of rock against rock as the door slowing drew up of its own accord. Beyond was a brightly-lit corridor made of the same material that curved off to the left in the far distance. There was no discernible source for the light inside - no windows, glowing patches, just an even omnipresent natural light. Ki'yak and Dilon cautiously entered the corridor into the massive building. There was no resistance, no alarms, nothing. Ki'yak, in particular, was beginning to suspect a trap.

Several minutes passed as the two of them followed the corridor around, deeper and deeper into the structure. Occasionally they would pass a door, flush to the wall and made of the same rock material. Again, they had no features and appeared to have been created by simply cutting a door shape into the stone. None opened as they approached. Ki'yak tried to apply pressure to the first few but no matter what he tried they wouldn't open. The floor had a very slight gradient, almost unnoticeable, but there was in no doubt that they were moving down into the earth. They also had the distinct feeling they were being followed but whenever they looked over their shoulders, back down the long corridor, there was no sign of anyone or anything.

We walked for ages, by now we must have been a mile down and looped back around to under where we started. There was no sign of the Borg that DB had told me about after the first time. There was no sign of anybody - it was scarily quiet, well, until we ran into trouble, that is.

"Noise!" Ki'yak whispered, his head jerking around as he tried to locate the source of the sound. Dilon paused to listen but heard nothing.

"Can't here anything." Dilon whispered back.

"Noise quiet!" Ki'yak whispered again, now fixed on the corridor winding away in front of them. Dilon wasn't sure if Ki'yak's remarks had been aimed at him or the noise itself, if there was one.

They both stood, on alert, watching the corridor ahead. At first there was no sign of anything. Dilon was beginning to think Ki'yak was imagining things. Just before he gave up to continue their seemingly never ending walk Dilon noticed some movement come around the wide continuous bend ahead. It looked like three or four figures coming their way. The figures froze, they must have seen them. As one they ran at Dilon and Ki'yak.

Turning to run the other way Dilon stopped in his tracks as it dawned on him that Ki'yak was going the other way - charging at the figures. Dilon turned to watch, suddenly unsure what to do. He couldn't leave Ki'yak to fight them alone, whatever they were. On the other hand he wasn't too keen to get himself killed, he didn't even have a weapon on him. He found himself, against his better judgement, jogging after the sprinting Klingon - he'd let Ki'yak take them on first and then rescue him just in the nick of time, or so he told himself.

With a sweep of his bat'telh Ki'yak almost ran head long into the first of the figures. The Andorian deftly side stepped the predictable first attack. The next of the now confirmed group of three ran at Ki'yak. Like the Andorian this Human was apparently weaponless. She tried to barge into Ki'yak to knock him off balance but it was Ki'yak's turn to sidestep the obvious attack.

Another sweep of his bat'telh, this time calculated to keep them at a safe distance rather than inflict damage, gave Ki'yak another short moment to get his breath back. If it didn't offend his warrior pride he would probably have thought he was getting too old for this kind of thing.

"Wait!" called out the wheezing third member of the other group as he struggled to jog the last hundred metres to meet his two colleagues and Ki'yak.

Backing off rapidly the Andorian and Human were extremely grateful to have a reason to cease hostilities against the rabid looking Klingon with the large blade. Unfortunately their opponent wasn't quite so willing to take a suggestion from the newcomer. Ki'yak lunged at the Andorian.

"Stop!" Dilon shouted as he came within grabbing distance of Ki'yak. Dilon grabbed his arms in a feeble attempt to restrain the Klingon. In itself it wasn't enough to actually prevent Ki'yak from hacking the Andorian's face in two but, despite his age, Ki'yak's reflexes were still excellent. The bat'telh stopped just short of making contact with the Andorian's head. He glowered at the Andorian as the other backed off, looking more than a little frightened.

"It's okay - we're archaeologists!" the third member of the other group said, all but hyperventilating from the run. He leaned forward against the rocky wall, propping himself against it with his right arm, to get his breath back.

"Archaeologists?" Dilon asked, himself getting his breath back but not being nearly so short of breath as any of the other group appeared to be.

"Yeah, who are you?" the Human woman asked suspiciously, looking over her shoulder to the way they came as she did so.

"We're, er - Well, I'm Dilon and this is Ki'yak. We're looking for a friend of ours."

"You'll only find death here." the Andorian stated flatly.

"Have you been down there? Did you see any of these Borg?" Dilon asked.

"Why do you think we're trying to get out of here, boy?" the woman said.

"Sorry, please excuse my colleagues - I'm Tym, that's Claudia, and Threvel.", the third member and apparent leader said, now standing upright and joining the group as his light headed feeling was diminishing, though he was still panting softly. "There were three more of us - we ran into the Borg further down..."

"How do I not think you're working for them?" Ki'yak said, still very wary of them and keeping his bat'telh at the his side, just in case.

"How do we know you're not?" Threvel, the Andorian, said, his voice still full of suspicion.

Claudia looked at Tym, a look he clearly understood as he nodded back to her. He stared at Dilon. Their eyes met and Dilon could not help but turn away, it felt as if Tym's eyes were burrowing straight into his mind. It was an odd feeling, he could almost sense someone actually rummaging around in his mind. Then, abruptly the sensation was gone. He looked back to Tym and saw that him nod to his two colleagues before turning his gaze on Ki'yak.

Ki'yak was now stepping past the Andorian to look down the corridor, the way the others had come. In the corner of his eye he saw Tym staring at him. He turned and growled at him.

"Argh!" Tym cried out as he involuntarily backed away from Ki'yak and brought his hands to his temples. "Argh - you are seriously ill!" Tym shouted out, his mental defences temporarily shattered by the disturbing mindscape.

"What? Are you some kind of Jedi?" Dilon asked, suddenly understanding the sense he had just experienced - someone else really was invading his mind.

Ki'yak suddenly realised too, Tym may look Human but this black hair and equally black eyes suggested he could be something more - "Betazoid! Keep out of my head or I'll use yours for my theatre!" Ki'yak threatened. Unlike Dilon he hadn't sensed the violation but Tym's reaction said it all.

"Never... I will never... I promise I will never... scan you again..." Tym said, trying desperately to regain his composure. Even feeling the internal screams of his three friends as they were turned into Borg was nothing compared to the mental imagery masquerading as Ki'yak's mind. He was more than visibly shaken by the experience. Claudia rushed to grab Tym before he collapsed onto the floor. Threvel glared at Ki'yak again, suddenly very unsure if he were an enemy again or not.

"What is it? What did you see?" Claudia asked Tym, concerned.

"No, noth- He's not with them. Neither of them are. We can trust them. Dilon here is looking for his friend." Tym said, still sounding a little jittery.

"Well, I'm getting out of here, as we agreed." Threvel stated to Tym.

Tym looked at Claudia who was now helping him to lean up against the wall.

"No, sorry, Tym. I'm not risking my life to help these two any more than I'm going to do it to find your fabled countrymen." Claudia responded to the questioning look from Tym.

"You're looking for people in here too?" Dilon asked, sounding excited again at the prospect of having some decent company and someone who may just be this universes equivalent to a Jedi.

"I can sense them. I could from the other side of the city. I can't explain it - I wouldn't normally be able to sense anyone from anything like that distance. I'm sure some of my people are here. I can hear them suffering - they're down here somewhere, I'm sure of it." Tym explained.

"Look where it's got us - Rand, Joe and Frust are dead - worse. All because you think you can sense other Betazoids trapped here. We're tomb raiders, not a special ops rescue team!" Threvel said bitterly. "I'm getting out while I still can and you should both join me - let these two be turned into Borg, if that's what they want."

"Fine, you two go. I'm going back down there. Hopefully we can rescue my people along with this DB of Dilons." Tym responded to Threvel in a similar tone. "Just have the Relic Catcher warmed up and ready to go. We won't be far behind you."

"Tym..." Claudia said in a warning tone. Threvel was already marching off back the way Dilon and Ki'yak had come, to the surface.

"Go, Claudia. I'll be okay." Tym said but saw she wasn't convinced that she should leave him after all. "Go - I'll be fine, I promise." Claudia looked into his eyes and saw the determination in them. She gave an abbreviated nod and rushed after Threvel, not looking back.

"Okay, Dilon and- Ki'yak is it? Let's get moving."

"I dunno, I've suddenly got a bad feeling about this..." Dilon said, now even less certain he wanted to be doing this.

"Enough talk, let's rip some Borg entrails out!" Ki'yak said in excited anticipation.

"You know, DB had some kind of jammer when he was last down here. It confused the Borg. Wish I had one of those right now." Dilon said, ignoring Ki'yak's last comment. The three of them began their walk, not saying another word. Tym occasionally looked over his shoulder with the strangest feeling they were being followed. He could almost sense someone there but whenever he looked there was nothing. He started to dismiss it, he was probably just getting that feeling from Dilon, who was positively emanating the sense they were being stalked.

For five minutes the three of them walked. By this time the other two tomb raiders had long since disappeared around the curve of the corridor. It was around this point that Tym and his people were first attacked. Tym was by now seriously on edge, expecting an attack at any moment. He wasn't to be disappointed.

Tym spun around, this time he was sure he sensed minds behind him. Minds that were simultaneously trapped and yet free. Trapped in a constraining overmind and also free beyond the confines of their brains. The only thing stopping them screaming out and going mad was the immense control exerted by the other constituent parts and they in turn back out upon the system. Tym shuddered at the cold enveloping experience.

"Borg!" Tym shouted as he spun around on the spot. Sure enough he was confronted by the image of four Borg, marching impassively toward them. He pulled a small Type 1 phaser from his pocket. "Don't let them touch you..." Tym called a warning to his two new cohorts.

"Where did they come from?" Dilon yelped with a start after turning to see their attackers. He wished he had brought a blaster or anything that might be used to defend himself.

"Run!" Tym shouted, a thought that had already passed through Dilon's mind. Ki'yak, however, looked more interested in an almost certainly futile gesture.

Tym turns back to run further down below the spires above to be confronted with three more Borg, each with a hand outstretched. He ducked past them, narrowly avoiding their grasps that would inevitable lead to becoming one of them. Tym sprints off, not looking back.

One of the Borg moves to grab Ki'yak but collapses onto its back when Ki'yak's bat'telh severs both of its arms in one powerful slice. Dilon moves closer to Ki'yak as the Borg now surrounding them close their distance.

A flash of movement behind the Borg catches Dilon's attention whilst Ki'yak is busy waving his bat'telh about in an attempt to keep the attackers at bay. A dark figure with what looked like a cane glided up behind the Borg. As the stranger approached the Borg became disorientated. They began to flail about wildly.

"Quick! This way!" Dilon shouted at Ki'yak, nodding his head after Tym, down the corridor to almost certainly greater danger.

Ki'yak seized the opportunity given by the uncoordinated Borg to chop down two that were directly blocking their flight. They each took one last second to catch their breath before their run. Something knocked into Dilon from behind, he didn't turn to look what it was, instead he used it as impetuous to run. He didn't feel the crystal slip into his pocket. The two of them sprinted down after Tym. Neither turned back to see what was becoming of the Borg or see who the strange cowled figure was.

It didn't take them long to catch up with Tym, his state of health wasn't as good as theirs and he had stopped not too far away to rest. The three of them looked down the corridor to see the one thing they really didn't want to see at that moment - row upon row of Borg lining the sides. The rocky walls were about to give way to Borg alcoves for as far as the eye could see. They each looked at one another and then back the way they had come. Not saying a word they came to unanimous decision. They began to run again. For all their strength they ran past the occupied Borg alcoves, not knowing what kind of danger might face them if they managed to survive this particular gauntlet.

Though it wasn't overly obvious as they rushed past, the previously stationary Borg began to writhe and shudder in their alcoves as the group shot past. None of the three took their eyes off the corridor ahead, not even daring to glance at the Borg they were coming up to and passing. Before they knew it they reached, finally, the end of the corridor. They ran through without concern for what lay ahead, only worried about what was behind. The three of them stopped, dead, in their tracks when they saw where they were.

Erie glows pulsated in the massive cavern that they found themselves in. They all looked about in disbelief at the truly incredible vats around them - each the size of a small tower block. They were not unlike transparent silos. Within each was a viscous looking translucent liquid - the apparent source of the unsettling glows. Within the liquid they could just about make out large black objects, one per vat.

"Look at that one, it looks larger. That one over there looks like it might be a bit smaller... They're growing, they're-" Dilon whispered in awe and fear.

"They're alive... Whatever they are..." Tym finished Dilon's sentence, without needing to scan him to know exactly what he was thinking, what they were all thinking.

"They are spacecraft." came a sharp voice, full of authority and at a normal, confident level, unlike Dilon and Tym's whisperings.

The three of them turned, with starts to pinpoint the source of the new voice. He was Human, somewhere in his late sixties. He wore an all-covering cloak and robes of black and midnight blue. His silvery white hair was slicked straight back on his head. His thin haughty face stared up at the vats with imperial disdain.

"Who are you?" Dilon asked, recognising the man as the one he caught a glimpse of a few minutes previously. Did he help save them from the Borg is or he working for them?

"Belgarath. As none of you are from my universe you won't recognise the term Technomage but that is what I am, hmm?" the newcomer announced. "Now let's not dawdle, you're here to save some people and I'm going to help."

"Why?" Ki'yak asked, suspicious, as ever.

"Why not, my dear boy?" Belgarath said, ignoring the hatred in Ki'yak's eyes at being called a boy. "You've led me here and I've found out what I needed to know. Least I can do is help you in return, hmm?"

"Your mind is closed, concentrated - shielded. I don't trust you." Tym stated flatly to Belgarath.

"Never mind that, he saved us from those Borg, I think. Let's just get to your Bayter- er, your people, find DB and Terak and get out of here!" Dilon exclaimed, feeling incredibly uneasy, both with the odd atmosphere to the cavern and worried that a mass of Borg could show up at any second.

Tym looked around him, eyes closed, sensing which direction the now close Betazoid minds were to be found. "This way."

The group kept to the edge of the cavern, none of them felt inclined to wander among the giant vats, and came to a small open, rock hewn, doorway that led to a smaller antechamber. Belgarath strode through without any hesitation, the others, even Ki'yak, entered with a little more trepidation.

Before them was what looked like a primitive laboratory, or, perhaps, a series of butchers slabs. Large blocks of the now all too familiar rock were scattered about the room. Each of them was stained with blood, some fresh but most long since dried. Around the edge of the small room were more vats but these ones were person rather than tower block sized. Dilon immediately thought of Bacta Tanks and he wasn't far wrong. In the vats were people in various states of mutilation and, in some cases, disease. Crude and vicious looking medical devices, or perhaps torture instruments, were scattered around the slabs, with one slab being given over to small jars of liquids. Dilon vomited at the sight of the prisoners and Tym was looking just as green. Belgarath looked appalled whilst Ki'yak just looked hungry.

"That's them - those are my people. What have these monsters done to you all?" Tym said.

"We must get them out of those tanks." Belgarath declared.

Ki'yak readied his bat'telh and took a run up at the closest vat. With a muted thudding sound he brought his full weight onto the side of the vat with his bat'telh. A large crack appeared immediately and spread as they watched. Ki'yak backed off just as the tank exploded outward, pouring its contents over the floor. Tym rushed to the Betazoid woman who flopped to the floor from the tank. She was unconscious.

"You'd better tell me what is going on." Tym said coldly to Belgarath.

"As you wish." Belgarath said primly, before pausing to collect his thoughts to continue. "In my universe there are races of incredible age, vast and timeless. Once, long ago, they walked among the stars like giants. They taught the younger races, explored beyond the Rim, created great empires. The First Ones. But to all things there is an end. Slowly, over a million years, they went away. Some passed beyond the stars never to return. Some simply disappeared. A few stayed behind, hidden or asleep, watching for the day they may be needed - when the Shadows come again..."

"Shadows?" Tym asked, trying to ignore the shiver going up his spine.

"The Shadows were old when even the ancients, the First Ones, were young. They battled each other over and over across a million years. The last great war against the Shadows was ten thousand years ago. It was the last time the ancients walked openly among us. But the Shadows were only defeated, not destroyed. They returned to their places of power, rebuilt them and, a thousand years ago, began again to stretch forth their hand. Before they could strike, they were defeated by an alliance of worlds, the younger races and the few remaining First Ones who had not yet passed beyond the veil. When they had finished the remaining First Ones went away, all except the Vorlons and, perhaps, one or two others. Now the Shadows have returned. They are panicked but this new state of affairs. They are subversive by nature, working behind the scenes, implanting their agents in positions of power within the younger races. But they do not know any of your races, don't have time to know them. I do not believe they will be so subtle this time..."

"Borg." Ki'yak said.

"They are growing their organic space vessels here. They need people to act as a central core for their ships. Their minds are merged with the machine. Physical implants are added to the host's brain. These Borg would appear ideal for their purposes." Belgarath paused, as if having lost his train of thought, and then regaining it. "We must move along, hmm?"

Three of the seven Betazoid's were out of their tanks. They were, at best, semi-conscious. They hadn't experienced any resistance from the Borg. Belgarath proclaimed, cryptically, that they should be invisible to detection - if only for a short while.

Dilon, still feeling rather sick at the sight of the butchered Betazoids took a look out into the main chamber. He ran back in, looking rather alarmed. Tym was the first to notice and turned to look at him. Dilon said worriedly "The ships - the vats, they're draining. Some of them, anyway. There are Borg out there, ready to merge maybe!"

"What do you say?" Belgarath said, suddenly sounding no less alarmed. He rushed to take a look for himself. Ki'yak continued to smash open another tank. Belgarath ran back to the others. "He's right. We must leave."

"We can't what about these others-" Tym began before clutching his head and collapsing. An inhuman screeching filled the underground complex. The sound reached right into their brains and caused their very souls to quake. It was the sound of something terrible being born. It was repeated over an over. Their primal instincts where to run, to hide, to jump into a hole and pull the earth closed over their heads. It was their worst nightmares personified. All four of them were petrified in place, their brains unwilling to give any commands to move a muscle. Their instincts were overriding their conscious thoughts. The ground under their feet, around and above them, shook violently. Another series of nightmare sounds echoed around the complex, a different sound from before. Low rumbles and earth tremors took hold. Dust rushed through into the lab. The four of them, prompted by Belgarath, ran to their only exit and looked upon the cavern beyond. Massive chunks of rock, that had once been the ceiling, were collapsing down into the cavern. The ships, a nightmare visage, like impossibly large black spiders, were cutting their way through the ceiling. Their own vats were smashed but others, still occupied, remained. One of the other vats was broken, its contents spread on the floor - another black ship but this type more bulbous and having only vestigial stumps instead of the massive leg like spines of the other. With another collapse the ceiling was holed - the sky above could be seen. The dozen or so active Shadow vessels arced gracefully out of the hole and up out of the atmosphere.

Belgarath held his cane to the ceiling for a second before turning back to the other three. "We must hurry, just these four." he said indicating the four Betazoids they had already rescued from their tanks.

"No, I'm getting the others too." Tym announced.

An odd whooshing noise was followed by a fresh disturbance in the swirling, choking, dust trapped in the air. "Oh, if you must." Belgarath said petulantly. "This way you two." he added, looking at Dilon and Tym. He strode off out into the main chamber, the dust swirled around and enveloped him.

It took a second for them both to realise they were supposed to take a stricken Betazoid with them. Dilon grabbed her legs and Tym her arms. They carried her after Belgarath. Dilon stopped abruptly when he saw the large black shape before them. Tym, with his back to the way they were walking, turned to look up at the looming object. It was big, spacecraft big. At first they both thought it was a Shadow vessel - it was the same jet black. Closer examination gave indications of hard, artificial lines not the smooth organic curves of the Shadow ships. Nor was there the slight pulsing of the ships skin. It was then that they noticed Belgarath standing on a ramp up into the ship, encouraging them on. They ascended.

Inside it was black. Dark. There was light - they could see one another but that was all. They could not see the floor, the ceiling or any walls. It was as if they were standing in the vacuum of space. There definitely was a floor, they could feel it beneath their feet but that was the only point of reference, save for the light streaming in the doorway. They both felt quite disorientated by it. They gently lowered the still wet, and presumably cold, Betazoid to the floor and rushed back down the ramp to get the next.

By the time they had got the first four up into Belgarath's spacecraft Ki'yak had successfully freed the other three. Belgarath himself had not been seen since he encouraged them up the ramp with the first Betazoid.

As they were taking the final two Bezazoids, Tym and Dilon with one and Ki'yak carrying the last over his shoulder, they entered the main chamber as the bulk of the dust finally settled to the floor. Everywhere they looked were Borg. Hundreds of them, all streaming into the main cavern.

"Argh!" Dilon shouted in sudden fright. "Quick, let's get out of here!" he said trying to rush Tym on to the ramp. The Borg had seen them and their ship. Whatever invisibility they had it was doubtful it extended to the visual spectrum, probably little more than a sensor jammer or absorption system. The Borg, en mass, were heading to intercept them, like a hundred killer zombies. They all ran as best they could to their rescue ship. The ramp began to ascend before they were even off it. Ki'yak, at the back of the group, could see the ground falling away below them as the last crack of outside light was cut off by the ramp sealing, with the five of them, plus the other five Betazoids, safely aboard.

The Borg all stopped in their spots and watched the Technomage's ship ascend over their heads and shoot out of the hole in the ceiling. Somewhere, just out of sight, an ancient intelligence knew it was time to bring forward their plans. It was time to attend to their greatest threat.

THE END.

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: The Sixth Sense

Comes a time in every hunter's life when they become the hunted, yes? Some people bare grudges - don't understand that business is business. Take it personally, yes? Often a simple, er, explanation is enough to dissuade the offended party, eh? Hard to make them understand that we're just doing a job, working on another's behalf. Not up to us to make judgements or second guess another's deep held conviction, eh? So, they want a competitor, er, neutralised? Just providing a service, yes? Where's the profit in revenge, anyway, huh? Can't understand the mentality of these people, myself.

Now Terak, after, er, retiring the Federation President and then the Federation Deputy President, finds the mighty Federation has no sense of humour, yes? Starfleet, the military arm of the Federation, seem more than eager to track Terak down. Knowing Terak it can't be because they want to share his sparkling conversation, yes? Little did he know that a tracking device led them straight to him, eh?

With a flash the decrepit looking light freighter fell out of warp. Little would any observer realise that the vessel was, in fact, a state of the art Federation Runabout whose outward appearance had been deliberately altered to conceal its true identity. There was even less chance that anyone would guess it was actually a Presidential escape craft. Never in a million years would they ever think that the vessel contained a Bounty Hunter named Tonb Terak and the bodies of his latest prey, including the body of the acting President of the Federation himself. Despite the unlikely nature of anyone guessing the situation there were those out there that knew what had happened. Knew where Terak had gone in his stolen craft. Unknown to Terak, though not entirely unexpected, they had followed him from Earth, their numbers growing as others along the way joined the chase. They could observe him through hidden cameras, interface with the Runabout's computer and hide their echoes on his sensor readings.

Mr. Gates, the man who had hired Terak, had provided the coordinates for their rendezvous. In the past they had always met on a backwater planet named Formalhaut 5. This time things were different and as a result, for millions, nothing would ever be the same again.

The tiny disguised Runabout sped toward the blue and green planet, no more than a few minutes away at top speed. Behind Terak's stolen ship another flash marked the entrance of a second ship. Then another. And another. More and more flashes erupted behind him but the Runabout's sensors told him none of it. The activity hadn't missed the attention of the new masters of Achenar, the planet below. Their defences, for the most part, were young and underdeveloped but it was time to put them into action. More than that, it was time to bring forward their plans.

Numbering twenty eight, the Starfleet Armada grouped up behind the Runabout. There would have been little Terak could have done against one of their mighty starships, even the weakest of the group. Against twenty eight he was helpless, especially as they were comprised mainly of their most powerful classes of vessel, including nine Nebula, four Galaxy and two Sovereign class starships. There was also the fact that they could disable his Runabout with one command to his shipboard computer. That was not their intention, however, they wanted to know who he was, who he was affiliated with and destroy the problem at its source. They weren't intending to be subtle about it, either.

"He appears to be on a course for the capital city, sir." one of the USS Sovereign bridge officers reported to his captain, the head of the impromptu armada.

"Captain Zahn, Endeavor here. We're not picking up any life readings on Achenar. Can you confirm?" the voice of the USS Endeavor's captain came in over the ship to ship intercom. Zahn looked over at his first officer for verification. She tapped her panel for a couple of seconds and shook her head, swivelling her small panel for the Captain's viewing.

"No, Captain, we're not getting any humanoid life readings either. Can anyone else in the fleet?" Zahn opened the question to the other twenty six ships also in on the conversation. A barrage of negatives flooded the shared comms channel, nobody was getting any humanoid life form readings at all. "What the hells going on?" Zahn asked himself out loud.

"Something's happening down there, sir!" Zhan's first officer exclaimed.

"On screen." Zahn ordered.

The Sovereign's view screen flicked onto a zoomed image of the Achenar capital city, the very center of it. They had a top down view of the normal municipal buildings but in the middle of them was a large patch of rocky desolate ground. It was completely out of place, as if a piece of the city had been ripped off the face of the planet. On the rocky area stood five vast spires, arranged in a pentangle shape. They appeared to be made out of the same material as the ground, almost as it they had grown up from within it. Though hard to tell from a top down view, the towering spires were adorned with vast glowing runic style symbols down their sides. It wasn't any of that which had alerted the Sovereign crew, however. Between the spires was an area of about one square kilometre. Without any warning red energy beams began blasting out of the ground, sending plums of dust and vents of super heated steam into the atmosphere. The ground all around shook with the force of the subterranean disturbances. Large chunks for rock were blasted into the air as the new funnels expanded into larger, irregular, holes. Before any of the Starfleet ships could determine what was happening all visual observation was curtailed by the expanding dust cloud from which only the tips of the spires escaped. It was then that the black shapes burst out of the cloud, on a direct course for the Federation armada.

Sensor readings on Terak's control board where confused, to say the least. Something violent was happening at his landing coordinates in the city but he couldn't figure out what exactly. It didn't help that he wasn't used to Federation technology, nor that his shipboard systems were being interfered with by the Starfleet armada on his tail, still unknown to him. Furiously pressing virtual buttons on his board in the hope to hit the correct combination to resolve the sensor image, Terak noticed a growing group of black objects leaving the dust cloud mayhem of his destination. They appeared to be flying straight for him. Finally, with more than a little luck, he managed to get a close up visual of one such blip. They were some kind of space craft but totally unlike anything he had seen ever before. There had no discernible engines, no obvious weaponry, not even any windows. If anything, they looked alive. The jet black hull of the ships appeared to ripple and pulsate, not unlike some kind of rough skin. From the bodies of the ships about twenty spines splayed out to the front and side of the vessels. Terak couldn't see any reason to be wary of them but nonetheless they somehow elicited a deep fear in him. There was something primal and ancient about them. Something deadly. They reminded Terak of some things he had once seen. He knew, deep down, that these vessels belonged to Mr. Gates' associates. He only hoped they had come to escort him down because if they felt he had outlived his usefulness...

"There's thirteen of those things coming straight at us, Captain." Zahn's Ops officer shouted out, with an uncharacteristic feeling of panic encroaching on his mind.

"Weapons?" Zahn asked.

"I can hardly get a reading at all, it's as if they got some kind of stealth technology. Can't see any weapons..." the Sovereign's first officer replied.

"Let's not guess - I don't like the looks of these things one bit." Zahn said in the most authoritative tone he could muster.

"They'll be on us in-" the Ops officer began before a red energy beam sliced straight through the bridge of the USS Sovereign, killing them all instantly.

Out of nowhere four Shadow vessels rippled in from their hyperspace. Somehow they knew exactly where to be as they materialised around the front of the Starfleet armada. They instantly opened fire on the Federation ships, before the crew even had time to react to their sudden appearance. From in indeterminate point, to the front and underneath the main body of the Shadow vessels, came searing red energy beams that literally sliced their way through the hulls of the Starfleet ships. The USS Sovereign and three other ships, comprising the other Sovereign class plus one Galaxy and one Nebula, had their dishes (their primary hulls) sliced in two. The other Federation ships scattered, firing at their new foes as they did so.

The thirteen Shadow vessels from the planet were fast approaching the fray. Terak, having decided to fly directly to the city, no matter what, suddenly began picking up things on his sensors - sensor echoes. Debris and more of those strange craft from the planet? He tried to push the engines even faster - hoping those ships weren't after him after all.

It was total chaos, the well grouped Starfleet armada were doing what they could to break up a bit so as not to inadvertently hit one another. The Shadow vessels appeared to be deliberately getting into the middle of them. Sure enough, the Federation ships were hitting each other nearly as much as the Shadow vessels. Unfortunately for them whenever their phasers slammed into the Shadow ships the blasts appeared to be absorbed. At best it was knocking them slightly off course.

The Shadow vessels from the planet surface swooped into the group. Though they were all far too busy, in a state of total panic, the Federation forces may have noticed that the planet Shadow vessels appeared slightly smaller and certainly a lot less coordinated than the four from hyperspace. Behind them, unnoticed in the confusion was a small black triangular ship, which was also coming from the hole in the ground between the great spires. It also went unnoticed when a jump point into hyperspace formed before it. The Technomage at the controls wasn't nearly stupid enough to get involved in the fight and piloted his craft through the jump point and out of danger. The route to hyperspace closed behind the craft, with no one, apparently, any the wiser.

The infant Shadow vessels made the total number of Shadow vessels up to seventeen. The number of Federation ships still in action by this point numbered twenty. Of those included the remains of the USS Sovereign and the first Galaxy class attacked - both with the front half of their dishes missing and being controlled by secondary bridges and command crews. The Federation attack was in total disarray.

"This is Captain Tyers of the Copernicus, I am assuming command of the fleet." declared Tyers over the armada wide intercom. She quickly glanced around her Galaxy class ships bridge, glad to see her crew slightly relieved at the news. "Right, those able to, on my mark target your nearest enemy with everything you've got." she paused a second before continuing. "Fire!"

Several of the Shadow vessels were hit by more than one barrage. Of those, three screeched in pain. One, which was hit by the combined phaser and photon bursts from three Federation ships, had two of it's forward spines blown clean off and it appeared to drift away dead in space. A cheer went up over the broadcast intercom from those three ships. Though most of the crews were too busy to take much notice, they took comfort in the fact that they strange ships could be beaten.

"Tyers to all ships - get your engineering teams onto the shields - how can these things slice right through them like they do? Captains, split into four te-" Tyer's began without realising that three Shadow vessels had turned on her ship and, as one, opened fire. In a display of devastating firepower the three Shadow vessels swept over her ship multiple times, in quick succession, with their beam weapons. The Copernicus was sliced and diced into an expanding cloud of debris. Somehow they knew which the lead ship was and eliminated the threat.

The Shadow vessels continued with their policy of targeting the largest Starfleet ships but now instead of hitting the dishes they were slicing off their engines first and leaving them to drift, intending to finish them off after disabling all the ships. It was total carnage for the Federation fleet. They had two more successes in knocking out Shadow vessels but they weren't sure if they were really dead - certainly they were basically in one piece save for the odd spine.

Space around the battle zone was awash with debris from the Federation ships, large chunks several hundred metres across right down to the millions of small fragments and many bodies drifting lifelessly around the area. As the ships were stricken the surviving officers were giving orders to get to the escape pods.

The Federation armada was quickly down to a handful of operational ships. The remaining captains were clever enough not to declare themselves in charge. Instead they agreed between themselves to withdraw and regroup. Before they could go to warp, though, they would have to leave the battle area due to the huge amount of debris. Unfortunately for them they were surrounded and outnumbered four to fourteen. In groups, and coordinated as one again, the Shadow vessels opened fire on the last mobile Starfleet ships. It was over in seconds.

Now all that was left of the Federation armada were the disabled ships. Some of them were still firing as best they could, both with phasers and photons. Those that had been most energetic in such regards had already been dissected, though. Most of the remaining ships were all but dead in space. Still in small teams, almost leisurely, the Shadows began slicing up any large chunk of Starfleet hardware that they came across, especially the stricken remaining ships.

"This is Captain Salvatore, Repulse. We're, er, we're taking those bastards with us. Any of you want to do the same, detonate your warp core on my mark. It was good working with you all... ... Mark."

The Shadow vessels clearly understood the meaning of the message as they scattered, most rippling off into hyperspace as Salvatore declared his intention. Three massive detonations went off within split seconds of one another. The three expanding spheres of energy blasted the debris away from the battle scene. Numerous other, smaller, explosions were triggered as the energy waves ripped though the remains of the Starfleet ships. Those crew members who had been fortunate enough to make it to an escape pod were ripped apart by the release of energy. Of the three defeated Shadow vessels one was too close to the explosions to survive, it too was ripped apart.

Once the energy waves had dissipated, which was less than a couple of minutes, ten of the Shadow vessels returned, all of them the infants from the planet, as were the three damaged vessels. Two of the ten approached the two injured, but surviving, fellows. The two healthy ships moved down onto the injured vessels. There was a brief flash of energy as they touched, the healthy vessels appearing to clamp themselves onto their injured comrades. They now appeared almost as one ship and the two injured/healthy ship combinations flew off toward the city.

********************

Terak's ship descended into the expanding dust cloud at the center of the city. Instrument landing proved easier than he expected and the battered looking craft touched down on the edge of the new hole, next to his own ship, the Avenger 2, and one of the five great spires.

With a smooth gliding motion, that betrayed the broken facade of the Runabout, the door/ramp at the back of the ship swung down to the ground. So extreme was the dust that without his helmet to improve his vision and filter the air, Terak would not have been able to leave his stolen ship. As it was he walked down the ramp and approached the treacherous edge of the abyss. Standing calmly on the edge he surveyed the chamber below. He could make out several figures but only one appeared truly human. Never one to waste his own time, Terak stepped off the edge and allowed himself to fall the several hundred metres to the floor below. A controlled burst of his jet pack saved him from a messy end.

All around him Borg drones were clearing the rubble from the cave-in caused by the young Shadow vessels cutting their way to the surface. The vast chamber housed numerous large silo style vats. Most of the vats were empty - both drained of fluid and lacking an occupant. Of those that were empty most were smashed as their one time occupants, the growing Shadow vessels, cut their ways out. Of the seven or eight remaining vats each still contained a large dark shape. These ships were more bulbous and with lesser developed spines. They were clearly for a different purpose that those that Terak had seen earlier. Across the other side of the chamber Terak could see where one of the occupied vats had been smashed by the rock fall, its contents spilt onto the floor, the viscous fluid and infant ship both. By his reckoning they were lucky to only lose one. It was then that he saw the relatively small figure of a Borg approach the beached vessel. The drone climbed underneath the ship. Several seconds passed by, for some reason he couldn't explain, Terak continued to watch the vessel. Instinctively he knew something was about to happen. An inhuman screeching filled the underground complex as the vessel shook violently on the ground. Terak, not having an knowledge of the Borg, was surprised to see them continue their tasks, utterly oblivious to the chilling spectacle. The vessel rose unsteadily into the air, righted itself and much more gently glided back down to the floor. There it sat, as if waiting for orders or maybe resting from its monsterous 'birth'.

A figure in a breath mask walked calmly up to Terak.

"My associates are pleased with your success. Unfortunately you appear to have brought the Federation right to our doorstep. My associates have seen them off but not before signals were transmitted. They know where we are, if not who we are." Mr. Gates said, slightly muffled though the full face breath mask. "They will think twice before coming here again. Our plans will have to be brought forward, though." Mr. Gates looked about himself, through the slowly thinning dust. "On your way down you may have noticed a small angular craft. Our enemies infiltrated us and, " he paused to choose his words, "stole some items from us. We need you to follow them and make sure they cannot make use of these items. We believe they are going to a world called Betazed..."

**************

"What is wrong with you?" Dilon exclaimed in shocked disbelief as his companion, a wizened old Klingon by the name of Ki'yak, rubbed his own face with urine soaked hands.

"It's good for the skin, makes me look thirty years younger." Ki'yak said, only partially believing his own words.

"It makes you stink, that's what it does! No wonder your forehead's like that - and put that away, or at least turn around... Awh! Now what are you doing - you're, you're gargling with it?!" Dilon said, turning away, utterly disgusted.

Sharing the small featureless black room with Dilon and Ki'yak were eight Betazoids. One, Tym, was a tomb raider who had stumbled across the recently dead world of Achenar with his fellow grave robbers. The Borg had invaded, in hours having assimilated most of the population. Tym heard the mental anguish of the other seven Betazoids, who were being experimented on by the Shadows. A Technomage by the name of Belgarath, having followed Dilon and Ki'yak to Achenar in search of information, helped the group escape in his craft.

Tym was doing all he could to ignore Ki'yak. Being a telepath he had a nasty experience when he first met the Klingon - he attempted to scan his mind. The after taste was still lingering, in fact he suspected he would need to go into therapy to excise the horrors he saw in Ki'yak's mind. For now he kept himself busy by attending to the other Betazoids. All were unconscious, most physically butchered or diseased. The mutilations were horrific and it took all Tym's limited medical knowledge to keep them alive during the long journey. If anything the mental damage was even more severe, and the reason why most of them were unconscious - their minds had simply shut down, unable to take any more.

The room they occupied had no windows, nor any obvious ways in or out. There wasn't even any obvious lighting system. The distinction between floor, walls and ceiling were lost as they were all a matt uniform black. The only things that stood out were the ten of them. It almost appeared as if they were trapped in a void, sitting on nothing but an imaginary floor. If they didn't know better they wouldn't even have imagined they were travelling, such was the total lack of motion sensation. Belgarath had encouraged them aboard but they had not seen him since they lifted off. For all they knew it could all be a great hoax.

None of the others came from Belgarath's universe and none had before travelled in the chaotic hell that was the hyperspace his people used. The red and black fabric of hyperspace undulated and shifted around them. Gravitational inclines were constantly threatening to pull the craft off course, rip it apart or crush it. There were no landmarks in the shifting, deadly seas of hyperspace. Direction and even distance were uncertain and nonuniform. Hyperspace was basically unnavigable, at least without the aid of beacons. In Belgarath's universe a crisscross of beacons joined systems and planets to other systems and planets, powerful beams of energy that all ships had to follow for safe passage. Ships that drifted off the beacons were never seen again. Most didn't have the massively expensive engines required to punch a hole back through into real space and relied on jump gates to return to safety. Even if those expensive, usually large military vessels, that did possess jump gates lost their way in hyperspace, they could open a jump point into real space but would almost certainly end up light years from any solar system. Many decades of travel in real space. Even if they got their bearings in real space it bore little relation to the twisted hell that was hyperspace. Without a beacon to follow they could not even be sure they were travelling in a straight line with the gravitational eddies and drift they would encounter. The chances of happening across a beacon if they strayed too far were several billion to one.

In this universe, where the Federation and Klingons resided, there was no jump gate and beacon system. Nothing to guide the younger races from Belgarath's universe, such as the Narn and Centauri. Fortunately for those possessing the ancient technologies of the First Ones, such as the Shadows, Vorlons and Technomages, there were faint paths they could follow. They were far too indistinct for comfort but could be discerned, just about. For years the Federation were aware that their faster than light technology, that warped space around their ships to beat the light speed barrier, was damaging the very fabric of space itself. The problem was hushed up and they quietly went about designing slightly less harmful engines, the expense and military consequences of grounding their massive fleet was too much for any of them to seriously contemplate. Much damage had already been done and their tweaked engines were only slightly better than before. In time, along with other considerations, this would become a very serious situation for their entire universe. For now, though, it allowed the more advanced members of Belgarath's universe to move around virtually unnoticed by their new hosts.

A hole in space vortexed open. The sleek, paper dart shaped, Technomage ship shot through the swirling blue rift directly into close orbit over the Federation world of Betazed. The planet glistened invitingly as the craft dived into the atmosphere.

As they flew over the tranquil scenery only Belgarath was able to look out and appreciate the unspoilt beauty of the place. Even the towns and villages were carefully crafted to blend into their rural scenery. Forests, lakes, rolling hills and wandering herds of wildlife for as far as the eye could see. The capital city was only obvious due to the area occupied rather than density of buildings. Vast open spaces, more forests and plains, separated the overlarge rustic buildings, many joined by scenic rivers with old fashioned looking boats calmly making their way around the city. One particular building stood out. It was slightly off center of the city, though it was difficult to tell given how distributed the city was, and particularly well served by river connections and primitive looking tracks. Unlike most of the other buildings that appeared to be built of wood, this one was most definitely constructed of the finest stone with exquisite marbled effects that glinted in the same way as the rivers and lakes around it.

The black angular ship was in stark contrast to its surroundings as it slowly drifted down onto a grass plain before the government assembly building. A small delegation approached cautiously from the majestic building.

Inside the hold area of Belgarath's ship his passengers turned to look at the small crack of light created by the entry ramp lowering. It was immediately obvious they were somewhere different to where they had begun. Ki'yak rushed to his feet, pulled his bat'telh off his back and charged at the blinding daylight. The ramp hadn't quite finished lowering when he reached the end of it. With a jump he hit the ground running. Dilon and Tym rushed after him, getting as far as the bottom of the ramp by the time Ki'yak reached the approaching delegation. Ki'yak growled at the strangers like a rabid dog.

One of the delegation of four, an alien in brown garb with bone growing out of the back and side of his head, indicated for the other three to step back. From within his jacket he retrieved a cylinder and held it before him in his right hand. Right before Ki'yaks eyes it elongated into a fighting staff that the Ranger then grabbed with both hands in a defencive posture before his body.

Rushing up behind Ki'yak, Dilon and Tym tried to look nonthreatening, Dillon sporting a rather less than sincere broad smile. Tym looked at the the three strangers a few steps behind the Minbari Ranger. Unlike their protector these three were human in appearance. Dilon noticed Tym's body language and that of the three he was looking between. It was obvious they were conversing telepathically. A whole planet of telepaths, Dilon thought to himself, this must be the safest place in the universe.

Nods of agreement went around the four Betazoids as they came to a consensus. Two of the Betazoid government officials stepped past the Ranger, ignored Ki'yak and proceeded up the ramp into Belgarath's ship. Ki'yak was about to take exception to this when Tym spoke out loud.

"Relax, they're willing to help us. Relax Ki'yak!" Tym said insistently, for a moment considering using telepathy to project mental suggestions at Ki'yak but then thinking better - he didn't want to go anywhere near that mind ever again.

With a look to Dilon first, Ki'yak gave a last growl to the Ranger and stomped off a little way, deciding to take a look at his surroundings.

"Er, I'm Dilon and that", he said glaring at his Klingon companion, "is Ki'yak. He's a bit mad, so I wouldn't look into his mind!"

"I can definitely vouch for that." Tym added hastily.

"He smells a bit too... but don't tell him - " Dilon continued.

"He has trouble accepting reality?" the Betazoid councillor offered.

"No, he'd probably give you some horrible demonstration!" Dilon corrected.

"Ah, I see - I've met a few Klingons in my time but never one I've liked! Let me introduce myself, I'm Councillor Guro. This is Dulann, from your universe?" Guro prompted.

"Er, I don't think so - I'm from the New Republic, the Empire and all that." Dilon said.

"I am a Ranger, a Minbari. My universe: Minbar, the Shadows, Vorlons, Babylon 5 and so forth." Dulann explained before getting on to the point that really interested him. "That is a Technomage vessel, I recognised it on their sensor readings. I've heard of them but never seen one. Is this your vessel?"

"No, Belgarath - he rescued us from these Shadows..." Dilon began.

Before long the butchered Betazoids were being removed by stretcher parties from the hold of Belgarath's ship and taken into the Assembly Building, ready to be moved onto the capitals main medical research facility. Belgarath himself hadn't made an appearance. Dilon was beginning to get concerned when Guro suggested they all go inside to discuss the situation further.

"Well, thanks, Councillor but I think I'd better try to get back to Achenar and rescue DB again. I won't let them run us off this time. You with me Ki'yak?" Dilon turned to find his sulking companion. As he looked about he caught sight of Ki'yak, sitting on the floor, but what really caught his attention was something black moving in his peripheral vision. It was Belgarath's ship. Silently lifting off. "Hey! What about us? Wait! We've got to go back and get DB or find Terak!" Dilon shouted uselessly as the ship shrunk off into the distance, giving absolutely no indication that Dilon even existed to it. "Wait..." Dilon cried desperately. "Wait..."

***********

The Avenger 2 sat in orbit above the Betazed capital, utterly unnoticed by their tracking devices and the few orbital defence platforms they possessed. Onboard, the sole occupant scanned the meagre airwaves, the tiny output that was Betazed's local news and entertainment media. The story Terak was after, the arrival of Dilon and his group and, especially, the destination of the ill Betazoids, did not feature on any news channel. Had he beaten them here? Possibly, he had one of the fastest ships around in his own universe. Either way he had to locate the most likely medical facility. They may possibly even be taken to a secret government laboratory. There are two types of people he might get that kind of information from and now he knew exactly where to find one of those groups.

Making full use of the natural stealth abilities of the Avenger 2, Terak took his spherical craft down into a forest clearing. He couldn't get too close to his target, his craft had a low sensor profile but certainly wasn't invisible. An anti-gravity swoop bike transported him through the edge of the forest and across the open plains between his ship and the two storey wooden great hall.

All was not as it seemed, Terak realised, as his swoop skidded to a stop, despite not actually being in contact with the ground. As great halls go it was far bigger than it appeared from a distance but it was all the more impressive for it, even more so as it was constructed mainly of natural elements such as timber. There were concessions to modern life visible, however, such as the numerous glass windows. More than that, around the side of the building lay a large but verdant hollow within which several very out of place looking hover vehicles sat. Terak carefully surveyed the area. When he was sure no one was around the vehicles he flew his swoop over the crest of the hover park hollow and down among the vehicles. They all looked showroom new, sleek and shiny. Locating the one he thought the most expensive, Terak pulled up next to it and jumped off his bike. Like all the others this one had a retractable roof and, also like the others, it was down. Taking another careful look around himself Terak jumped into the back of the hover car. From down in the vehicle park you could only just see the top corner of the building, the clear blue sky above and a tunnel that lead into a sub-level of the Broadcast Centre. To be sure he wouldn't be seen until he wanted to be, Terak leaned between the two forward seats and, with the aid of a handy glyph to tell him which button, keyed the roof to close over his head. He pulled a remote control device from his belt and instructed his swoop to return to his ship. Then he waited.

For several hours he waited patiently in the cramped back of the hover car. He heard a few people take their own vehicles over that time and was tempted to grab them instead. But no, he'd been warned about the Betazoids and their powers. He'd have to be extremely careful on this one - an enemy that can know your intentions just by looking at you is incredibly dangerous. There is only one way to combat such a threat - surprise, give them no time to react. That was exactly what he did.

With his helmet audio receptors turned up he could hear the sound of feet cutting through the short grass. The closer they came the more convinced he became that they belonged to the vehicles owner.

"Did I leave that up again?" came a man's voice as the feet slowed down next to the hover car. The drivers door opened and the man began to ease himself into his seat. It was then that he sensed he was not alone. He spun around just as Terak jabbed at his neck with a syringe. The man slumped across the passenger seat as Terak pulled the evil looking needle from his neck. Leaning between the front seats again, Terak pulled the Director of News across and out of the drivers seat into the passenger one beside. What for most people would have been an awkward move, perhaps even impossible in armour, Terak easily squeezed through the gap to sit in the now vacant front seat. He'd already examined the controls whilst he waited and had no trouble in starting the engine and speeding up the steep incline to the grass plain beyond. He couldn't help thinking to himself how overly trusting the society appeared to be - they didn't even have security mechanisms to stop their vehicles being stolen!

****************

>Er, it's me again. It's been a few hours since we were teleported here (is that what they call it?) . We're in a medical facility, research too. The Betazoids we rescued have been taken away to be looked after and they've done medical scans on me, Ki'yak and Tym. They did have some trouble persuading Ki'yak - I don't think he trusts them, they seem very uncomfortable around him too!

This Ranger has been asking us lots of questions about the Shadows. He wants to know what they are up to, how we got involved and all that. He's not telling us quite as much in return. Somethings definitely up around here. You don't need to be a telepath to sense that something bad has happened and I don't think it's just Ki'yak's arrival on this planet!

The door of the stark white room opened inwards. Through it, into the unused consulting room, entered Dulann, the Ranger. He looked at the rooms only occupant.

"I'm beginning to feel like a prisoner here." Dilon said, pocketing his recording rod. "What's going on?"

"Just over four local hours ago it was announced the Federation President and the Deputy President are dead." the Minbari stated flatly.

"The Deputy President, too? He wasn't on Venwi's Claim too, was he?"

"He was assassinated in a separate incident."

"Great Maker... Why did it take them so long to say about Sankey?"

"Great Maker? You sound almost Centuari?" Dulann prompted, suddenly unsure if he could trust Dilon again.

"Huh? It's a droid expression really - you know 'thank the Maker' and all that? When I was a kid my best friend was a droid... an old Accutronic Model E..." Dilon shook off the good memories to return to the present. "But anyway, what have they said about Sankey's death?"

"Very little. They say he was at an emergency conference discussing the Triangle situation. An assassination attempt succeeded in killing him and his party. It tallies with what you said but no mention of where the conference was held, the Klingons or Crookall's attendance and survival."

"Crookall - he was third in command. Does that mean he's now the President?"

"I believe so."

"Wow, and I saved him!" Dilon exclaimed before remembering the man himself. "He's not a nice person, though. Not like Sankey... What happened to his Deputy?"

"They have released few details about that so far. It is clear he was not on Earth but that is all we know."

"No wonder everyone is on edge around here."

"There is more to it than that." Dulann said, slightly surprised Dilon had picked up on the concern of the Betazoids. "When you first arrived we feared you might have been involved with the Earth authorities."

"Why, you're friends with them, aren't you?"

"I am an observer, sent by Entil'zha Delenn to watch over the Betazoids. They will be useful in the upcoming war against the Shadows."

"I mean the Betazoids - they're friends with Earth, all part of this Federation?"

"Shortly before you arrived the Betazoid government learnt of an attack on their Earth consulate. The Human's killed all the Betazoid staff."

"What?! Why?" Dilon said, totally taken aback by the news. It didn't sound like them at all.

"A mistake. The Human's believed terrorists had captured the building. The Betazoid's are very suspicious of that explanation and have recalled all their people from Human territories."

Dilon sat there in stunned silence. He didn't know what had prompted the Ranger to suddenly reveal what was going on but, in a way, he wished he hadn't.

********************

"So... now you're going to kill me... I knew, I knew from the second I saw you. I can see it in your mind. I see great pain... I... I... This truth serum of yours works on Betazoids as well as Humans from your own universe... I knew you were worried about that. Now I've told you everything you want to know you're going to kill me. I knew you would. I could see that from the beginning. Without this serum I'd never have talked. So, here it comes..." the Director of News babbled as Terak pressed his gun to the Betazoid's head and pulled the trigger. The body slumped to the forest floor.

Terak had visited worlds in his universe beyond count. Where he came from the one-time Old Republic, as it was now referred to, had consisted of a thousand thousand worlds. Those worlds were still there, for the most part, but were now members of the New Republic, the Empire (or the Remnant as some optimist New Republic officials were beginning to call it) or were keeping neutral in the civil war that still raged. It was boom time for people in Terak's business of Bounty Hunting, both back in his own universe and especially in the power play arena that the Triangle had become since the mysterious portals had appeared.

It was thanks to these universe joining portals that Terak had been given the opportunity to enter the Triangle, the apparent central point to which all the other universes had been joined. Since arriving the worlds he had seen could easily have been from his own universe, minor technology differences aside. Betazed was different, though. No doubt there were similar worlds in his universe but he had never been given occasion to visit one. The wide open spaces, even in the capital city, was particularly surprising to him. More than that, the danger of a race of powerful telepaths was unique.

What Terak had failed to truly appreciate, for his experience with telepathy was virtually nonexistent (minor Force sensitives aside), was why Betazed was as it was. The Betazoid people were a very private people, precisely because of their abilities. They did not routinely block their minds to others - they didn't need to. As a race that could instantly pick up on other's emotions, surface thoughts and, if they chose, probe deeper still into each other's minds, it became second nature to respect their feelings and privacy. Individuals would quickly develop the ability to ignore the constant background noise of everyone else's thoughts. Nonetheless, they all preferred peace and quiet, privacy and, if not solitude, certainly avoidance of crowded areas. Most races, particularly after their industrial revolutions, would slowly congregate into larger and larger cities. Not so for the Betazoids. In fact, the emergence of remote communication technologies meant their communities became more and more distributed, they even relearned spoken word to use these technologies. Just the prospect of travelling in crowded mass public transport systems would sound horrific to them. For this reason few Betazoids left their home planet, Betazed, and their only off world colony, Haven. That, and the fact that the other races, leading Federation races included, tended to eye them with suspicion. None of them liked the idea of having their minds scanned by 'prying' telepathic aliens, no matter how human and trusting they appeared.

None of this, however, mattered greatly to Tonb Terak. He turned around and climbed into the hover car next to him, leaving the body on the ground. Spinning the vehicle 180 degrees on the spot, so he was facing the slightly less dense way through the trees he had entered the forest by, he then slowly accelerated out. Within minutes he was speeding across open plains toward the government research laboratory that he now both knew of and, equally, knew his quarry had been taken to. He allowed himself a brief moment of self congratulation - he'd chosen exactly the right person to gain the information from. It was one of his specialities.

It was a large green shallow dome shaped building that, at a distance, could easily be mistaken for a hill. Like much of the Betazoid architecture it quickly became apparent it was larger than it initially appeared. Around the base were hundreds of small windows and wide sets of doors, one at the 'front' for people on foot and another ninety degrees to the side of it that was obviously for various types of vehicles. A river passed in front of the main doors, complete with a small set of wooden docks. Terak, in his inherited hover car, drove over the river and up to the side vehicle entrance. As he slowed the doors automatically slid open and he glided in. The doors slid closed behind him and the floor began to descend, taking him and his transport down into the sub-levels of the research centre.

The rapid descent slowed and finally halted as he reached the vehicle park level, which he suspected from the distance he had gone, was either at or just above the bottom of the complex. This could be easier than he thought, he mused to himself. The only thing that concerned him was the light. For an underground car park it was surprisingly well lit. In fact, if you didn't know better you might even think you were outside. Instead of concrete or metal the entire level was built from polished marble-like stone. It looked incredibly clean, open and pleasant - almost more like a top flight hotel on Coruscant.

Terak eased the hover car into one of the numerous empty spaces, each delineated by a rectangle of different, darker but no less shiny, stone. He carefully opened the driver's door so as to make as little noise as possible and looked around. Nobody in sight. In the center of the level was a small block of doors that were clearly a set of lifts. Terak, as ever in his all encompassing armour, made his way to them. He was well aware that if he were seen alarm bells would be raised, as they likely would be if they saw his face, too. His only option was to remain in the shadows.

A ping sounded from one of the doors as he approached. One of the lifts had arrived on the level. He wasn't going to take any chances, there could be people inside, so he rushed around the side of the central lift block as the lift doors slid open. Sure enough, he could hear voices and light footsteps as as least three people exited the lift. He froze, not wanting to alert them to his presence - he could kill them but that may attract even more unwanted attention. He listened as the group fell silent and stopped. Had there heard him? He paused, placing his hands on the two blasters in his hip holsters, just in case he needed them in a hurry. He waited for what seemed a minor eternity, he was about to give up and go in, guns blazing, when the group began talking again, out loud, and began walking off. Once they were a safe distance Terak leaned around the side of the lift block to get sight of them. Sure enough, there were three of them, both talking amongst themselves and into hand held recording devices at the same time.

Ducking back into cover as the three interlopers entered two side by side vehicles, Terak waiting for them to leave. The large vehicle lift at one edge of the vehicle park was still down so they were gone in less than a minute. Terak took the opportunity to listen at the floor. There were no sounds except that of the vehicle lift ascending up the open shaft. The construction of the building was too good to allow noise to transfer between floors, telepathic broadcasts too, though Terak hadn't considered that fact. Nonetheless his hunch told him to try to descend further, if he could. He summoned a personnel lift from the central block and, like the vehicle lift, one was waiting on that very level.

He was correct, there was a level further down from the vehicle park. But, he needed a key to access it. Not wanting to set off an alarm by blasting open the panel, Terak keyed the lift to keep the doors open and then hit the top level, presumably at the top of the dome. He wedged the doors open with his foot to give himself enough time to exit. Back in the vehicle park he watched the doors close and heard the lift ascend. He pulled a vibro-blade from a hidden sheaf in his right boot and jammed it between the closed outer lift doors. With a quick twist the doors opened enough for him to get his fingers into the gap and prise the doors apart. The knife fell to the ground. Once they were apart enough Terak jammed his entire body between the doors and used his legs and back to keep them apart whilst he leaned down to pick up his weapon. He took a quick look up and then down the shaft. The way was clear. He sheaved his knife, gave a final push to open the doors a bit further and twisted out from between them into the thin air of the lift shaft.

Pitch blackness returned almost instantly to the lift shaft as the doors clanged shut with more force than would seem safe. Just as abruptly a red-orange glare appeared as Terak activated his jet pack to control his descent. It was a long way down to the lower level, in excess of twenty metres, even with the high ceilings common to Betazed it was easily equivalent to four or five normal levels. This gave Terak even more confidence that his assumption was correct.

After carefully looking through a small crack he'd prised between the lowest levels doors Terak deemed there to be no immediate danger and forced them all the way open. Sure enough, beyond was the buildings dedicated power core. No research centre should be without one, Terak thought to himself.

The large anti-matter chamber and its associated machinery was left unattended. Clearly it was low maintenance and almost certainly monitored from an administrative level above, if not offsite entirely. The technology was different to what he was used to and he spent ten minutes examining the it to determine the best locations to place the explosives. Unlike with Imperial facilities he couldn't place the detonation packs and be out within sixty seconds, at least not if he wished to be sure they would do they job.

Once placed he set a five minute timer, confident that the detonation packs were hidden well enough not to be found in that time, even if an engineer did suddenly turn up to do a routine inspection, and also give him more than enough time to get clear.

This time he only had to press a button to summon the lift - there were no restrictions getting off the level, only down to it in the first place. One set of lift doors opened and Terak peered in from around the corner. It was empty. He walked in and pressed the button for the next level up - the vehicle park. The doors slid shut and the lift began to move up.

With a 'bing' the doors opened to reveal the spacious vehicle park. Terak froze as he caught the slightest glimpse of movement behind a landed hover car. A sliver of infrared could be seen at the bottom of the driver side window - someone was hiding, waiting. He pulled both of the blaster and the DEMP gun from his holsters. The countdown timer overlay on the inside of his helmet was almost down to four minutes left already. With no time to waste he decided to rush to his appropriated hover car, guns blazing if necessary.

As he began his sprint he noticed multiple figures enter his peripheral vision. He outstretched his arms sideways to let off streams of covering fire but before he could pull either trigger something odd happened to him. With a scream of pain Terak brought the palms of his hands, still holding his weapons, to the sides of his head. He tripped over his own feet as he faltered and collapsed to the ground in writhing agony.

The eight Betazoids walked toward him, keeping their mental attack going as they did so. From behind the car, a little way in front of the contracting group, Dilon, Ki'yak, Dulann and Tym stood up. They were warned that a dangerous individual was sensed in the vehicle park. How right they were.

"It is him - he can tell us what happened to D-" Dilon began but was cut off when Ki'yak shoved past him and began a berserker charge at the bounty hunter. "Hey - wait!" Dilon shouted after him.

Momentarily the Betazoid group, mainly comprised of scientists and doctors from the building, were distracted. They glanced up and the howling Klingon, some of them even instinctively reading his surface thoughts - that was enough to cause them discomfort. The united mental attack on Terak was broken and the bounty hunter took instant advantage of the fact. Still curled up on the ground, Terak's arms snapped up and bolts of energy began to fire indiscriminately. Only the blue bolts from his DEMP gun could be seen by their eyes but the invisible blaster bolts were the more deadly.

Of course, the Betazoid's sensed his intention before the barrage began. Those that were not too fazed by reading Ki'yak immediately turned their attention back to their captive. It was too late to save three of them. Two had holes blasted through their torsos by invisible heavy blaster bolts, another took an electro-magnetic pulse to the head from the DEMP gun - she would likely survive but probably need help learning to walk and talk again.

Terak could feel the pain begin to return but not quite as focused this time. He looked up to see a Klingon charging at him. From leaning forward in an almost foetal position, Terak threw himself backwards. With a thump and scraping sound as his jet pack hit the ground Terak saw he had just missed being sliced in two by Ki'yak's bat'telh which arced down into his previous position. Terak kicked sideways at the Klingon's weapon as he felt the Betazoids loose concentration again, as they backed off from Ki'yak. The corner of the bat'telh embedded itself in the stomach of another Betazoid, who had sensed the action coming but not consciously realised the threat it posed to him directly. Ki'yak pulled the long crescent shaped sword from the mortally injured Betazoid and threw it to the ground. He pounced down onto Terak.

Having backed away from immediate danger the four remaining Betazoids again concentrated their minds on Terak. This time they took a different tack.

Terak's mind swam, He was aware of something leaping at him but couldn't think what it was or why. Instinct took over and he brought his knees up to his chest, feet slightly outstretched. Something heavy landed on him. He kicked away with his legs and felt the something pushed off.

Ki'yak landed with a thud on his back. Now he was mad. In every sense of the word. He scrabbled in some hidden pouch and pulled out a small canister. He got onto all fours and, like a quadruped, almost galloped on his hands and knees over to the convulsing bounty hunter.

"[Who have you brought to us, Tym?]" drifted across a wordless thought, a meaning below the unspoken thought words that came over the top. "His mind is devoid of virtue, it is almost dead, emotionally. [we cannot kill him - though he deserves it] What shall we do with him?" one of the Betazoid's said to Tym telepathically.

"[What happened to DB?] Can you deep scan him?" Tym asked in return.

"[No thanks - I'm not doing that!] It is all we can do to confuse his senses." the other Betazoid replied.

"[Thanks a lot, rather you than me but...] Okay, I'll give it a go [Hope he's not like that disgusting Ki'yak]"

Tym stepped around from behind the parked hover car, glancing briefly at Dulann and Dilon. "Can you get Ki'yak off him for a second?" Tym thought at Dilon, not realising he hadn't spoken it out loud. Dilon nodded, not sure exactly how he'd go about it without getting himself killed.

Dilon scurried around the side of the car after Tym, pulling on Dulann's sleave to follow. The Ranger took great offence at being touched by the human but resisted his urge to attack - that is no way for a Ranger to behave. They both sped past Tym as he slowly walked up to the group, doing what he could to home in on Terak's thoughts despite the chaotic thoughtscape around him.

Bustling past the Betazoids Dilon and Dulann each grabbed one of Ki'yak's arms and dragged him off Terak. Ki'yak didn't even appear to notice at first, so engrossed was he in playing with his acid set on Terak's chest. Ki'yak was like a little boy playing with a chemistry set, laughing with glee as toxic fumes were produced when he pored another combination onto Terak's armour. It bubbled and hissed its way through Terak's protective shell, eating through the thin skin of plastic, down into the durasteel below and then through the coated fire resistant layers of fabric beneath, finally reaching his pale blue skin.

Ki'yak finally locked his legs in a standing position just before Dilon and Dulann were going to just dump him on the floor. He hissed at the two spoil sports and stomped off in a huff.

"[Why can't someone else do this?] Well, here goes nothing..." Tym said to this fellow Betazoids. It was a cold mind. Damaged, damaged by a man named Thra- Wait! Detonation packs, power core...

Tym reeled, in surprise - it was there, right on the surface. Confused, certainly. Terak wasn't sure how real his own immediate memories were but Tym could see them clearly. Some part Terak's mind, a desperate refuge for his rational consciousness was screaming for him to leave.

"[We're all going to die!] This place is wired - we may have less than a minute!" Tym called desperately.

"[Let's get out of here]" "[Sound the alarm]" "[Someone should try to disarm the devices]" "[I've got to get out of here!]" "[It's all your fault for bringing them here]" A series of panicked thoughts went around the group, none of them actually putting anything in thought words, merely emotions and sub-conscious impulses.

"[I can save you] I'll disarm them, I've seen where they are [am I mad?! Get outta here! Save myself! No, my fault...]" Tym told the others.

"What's wrong?" Dilon asked.

"Terak's rigged this place - it could go any second!" Tym shouted urgently and unnecessarily loudly.

"What?! I'll try and disarm it!" Dilon said as the other Betazoids began running off to the nearby lifts.

"No, I've seen where they are - "

"I will help." Dulann declared.

"Get him out of here - you'll need to question him." Tym said, pointing at Terak and ignoring the Ranger.

Ki'yak had snapped out of his sulk and wasn't about to argue - he'd lived far too long to die now. He ran over and grabbed the still convulsing form of Terak and hauled him over his shoulder. "Quick - start hover car." Ki'yak ordered Dilon.

"But what about them-" Dilon asked, looking at the four fallen Betazoids.

"Without this medical facility they're probably dead anyway! Go!" Tym bellowed as he sprinted toward the lift block, closely followed by Dulann.

Dilon, always having an instinctive knack with machines, though not always a good knack, immediately figured out how to power up the nearest hover car. Ki'yak dumped Terak on the back seat and, thanks to the roof being down, jumped head first into the front passenger seat.

The car smacked back into the ground as Ki'yak landed in the passenger seat but it continued to rise again. Dilon violently jerked the craft back away from the wall and over spun it around. Correcting his heading he pushed it full throttle at the big up arrow on the side wall. With a crunch he hit the wall, just under the sign. All three of them were thrown forward, with Ki'yak, who was still upside down in the passenger seat, getting his head jammed underneath the glove compartment. For a brief instant Dilon thought the arrow was falling down onto them, then he realised they were ascending, the front of the vehicle dipping to the lift floor as it rubbed against the wall.

*************

Tym ran out of the lift before the doors had even fully opened. He went directly to one of the two detonation packs, with Dulann in tow. Tym jumped onto the top of the large tubular conduit.

"Yes - here's one! The other is behind that control console." he said pointing at a console a good twenty metres away. "I can't quite read these symbols but I think we've got a good thirty seconds left."

"How do we disarm them?"

"Damn. I knew there was something I forgot to check..."

*******************

The doors opened before the crushed nose of the vehicle to reveal a gloriously sunny late afternoon. Dilon pushed the throttle to full again, hoping the damage wasn't as bad as it looked, and it did indeed look bad from his vantage point. The vehicle jerked forward, it's nose still pointing down despite there being nothing, except gravity, working on it now. Leaving a shallow furrow in its wake the car sped forward. Dilon looked over his shoulder to see the dome, now with dozens of people streaming from the main doors, and a few jumping out of the, fortunately ground floor, windows.

There was what sounded like a massive thunderclap and the ground appeared to rise up. The dome shattered into a billon shards and collapsed inwards as a thick black smoke billowed out of the massive hole in the ground. The sickening sight suddenly disappeared for Dilon as he found himself looking at the sky. He felt the car hit something - they were sinking. He'd crashed into one of the rivers with the car unable to get any lift. As he looked down to see where they were he realised he had spotted something - in the sky. He did a quick double take. He saw what looked like a series of small explosions high up above the faintest whispers of cloud.

***************

High above the surface of both Betazed and the Betazoid's only colony of Haven, a small group of black ships sliced away the last remaining orbital defence platform. Around them four other ships shimmered in from hyperspace. The resemblance to the other Shadow vessels was clear but these were far more bulbous and had only vestigial spines compared to their battleship cousins. These new ships immediately aimed themselves at the planet they orbited.

Above the luscious blue green Betazed, four of the monstrous looking craft dived into the atmosphere. Likewise above the golden beaches of which Haven was famed, four other identical nightmare craft cut their way through the clean sky.

At each location, as one, the bulbous craft opened organic looking vents on their sides, like massive heart valves. Instead of pouring out life giving blood there came a thick stream of what appeared to be black dust. The inhabitants of both worlds looked up into their skies, planetary waves of fear washing over them as they watched the black specs high in the sky leave expanding tracks of black cloud behind in their wake. The Betazoid people knew instantly that the end had come for them but never would they know why.

Nowhere on either planet could escape the plague that rained down on them, now invisibly dispersed in the air. The people began dying in hours. Even their Federation medical technology couldn't pinpoint what it was, not in time. Within days the entire population that remained was sick, unable to attend to themselves, much less each other and especially not the dead. Though few dared admit, even to themselves, the plague was indeed one hundred percent contagious and one hundred percent lethal. It was too efficient to be natural but they didn't have time to figure out who or why. Both Betazed and Haven were quickly quarantined by the Federation. Despite their best efforts there was nothing that could be done for the Betazoids but mourn.

THE END.

The Triangle, Memoirs of a Mechanoid: The Seventh Gate of Hell

Blindly falling through the eternal darkness he tried to thrash about, he tried to grab onto an unseen something, anything but there was nothing there.

How long had it been? Was it always this way? He was sure he remembered a life of colour and substance but perhaps it was just his imagination. Once he could bring his hands up before his face and examine the intricate wrinkles of his pale fleshed palms. He wished he could do that again but there was nothing there. His hands were ordered to move before his face but they did not appear. He could almost sense them, he was sure, but couldn't see them. He could try to press his hands together. Sometimes he thought he was, he could feel them touching, but it was just his imagination, wasn't it? A memory of a life that may or may not have ever existed. Falling, forever falling in the featureless void. Didn't he once have silver hands, too? No, instead of the flesh hands, metal hands unlike any other? No, he was sure the void was making him crazy. It liked to do that to him. It was taunting him with fantasy realities. There were never any hands. Never any colour or substance.

Images, sounds, smells, tastes and the subtle sensations of touch played through his mind, seemingly at random. Why did the void hate him so?

Ayfnent and his two year younger brother, Reinstrom, peered through the open office door of their parent's study. Inside were their parents, in their usual smart business suits, along with two others. One they recognised as their parent's boss at Kuat Drive Yards, the other was a stranger to them. Whatever it was they were talking about it was clearly of great importance.

"This is merely rumour, we can't go to our contacts in the Navy with this! What about the board, why haven't they told us? It doesn't make sense!" their mother exclaimed.

"I'm telling you this is no mere rumour! My spies at the Rothana shipyard are personally helping to build a whole new fleet of assault ships for the Republic." the stranger said with obvious concern.

"But how's that possible? Where are the troops going to come from? Jedi?! And what are they going to be used for?" their father said incredulously.

"I don't know. This must have something to do with these separatist stories we've been hearing about. As for troops... I dunno, droids, maybe..."

"What, the Republic 'Navy', if we can laughingly call it that, is going to start invading worlds because a few politicians are talking about going independent?! Never going to happen!" their father said.

"Maybe he's right, in a way. Maybe they do plan to fill them with droids - buy enough off the Trade Federation to placate them after that trade dispute." their mother said.

Speaking for the first time their boss interjected "That trade dispute is ancient history by now. This whole separatist thing is nonsense, too. These worlds are just trying to get a bit of attention, get their voices heard. There is no chance of us 'invading' any world. None. Besides, we all know the Republic Navy is nothing more than a police force, keeping smugglers and pirates at bay. The Senate would never authorise they become anything more."

"I'm telling you what my people are seeing. They are there, on the ground - well, the orbital shipyards, anyway - and they are building some kind of fleet."

"Even if you're right, how do we know the Republic is funding this?" their father asked.

"Well, okay, we don't know for sure but who else?"

"Corporate? Local system security? Hell, crime syndicates, even" their mother replied.

"Massive assault ships I'm talking here. 12 quad turbolaser turrets, 24 laser cannons, 4 torpedo tubes. Give me a few days and I'll get you schematics, pictures of the construction progress, even. These aren't corporate toys. Somebodies going on an invasion and it ain't loan sharks..."

"Well if it's true we should have at least have heard about it - Rothana Heavy Engineering is supposed to be one of our subsidiaries, after all. Get me that proof and I'll go to Admiral..." the boss stopped in mid-sentence as the noticed the two kids watching at the doorway.

"Hey, Ayf, Rein, I told you two to go play outside until dinner time!" their mother called to them as the whole room turned to look at them.

The two boys ran off and down the grand marble staircase and around toward the rear of the country house.

Falling, falling, falling. Forever falling through the void. Another itch. It's intensity increasing the more he tried to ignore it. He wanted to scratch like mad but, as far as he could tell, there was nothing there to scratch. Nothing, even, to scratch with. Why did the void hate him so?

Their nanny walked in white faced, her eyes glazed and her movement stiff like a droid. Behind her a kindly faced Republic Officer followed her into the room. The two boys knew something was wrong. They'd felt it for a few hours. Why hadn't their parents returned when they should have? They hadn't even called to say they would be late.

The officer sat himself down opposite them, clearly he wasn't looking forward to what he had to say. "I'm sorry kids," he paused, unsure how to word it, "there was an accident at the shipyards..."

He should enjoy the little show that was being played out somewhere inside his 'head'. Why, then, did it cause him distress? How could it cause him distress? Didn't he remember a time when such feelings could be suppressed? The thrill of the hunt, the driving purposefulness of the mission? The cunning of the hunted. Where was all that now? Was it ever there at all? No, perhaps not. The void and his mind, that was all there really was.

"I'm sorry, I just don't know what else to do." the head teacher said pointedly.

"We don't want to have to put him in a special school. The poor kid's been through enough already." the social worker replied, taking a sideways glance at Ayfnent as she did so.

"He's sadistic, vengeful. The other children keep away from him, especially after the latest incident..." the head teacher added.

"Over enthusiastic playing, surely?" she replied.

"The other child took his ball - Ayfnent beat him to the ground, breaking the poor child's arm, and began to torture him by forcing the the ball in his mouth!"

"Okay, that's a little, erm, extreme but I'm sure Ayfnent is sorry - aren't you?" the social worker prompted.

"I guess..." Ayfnent said non-committally.

"See? I'm sure the damage was repaired in a couple of days and no harm done. We just don't have room for him elsewhere and, frankly, I think he'd do fine here if you and your staff could just give him some special attention and consideration." the social worker said, her mind made up.

Did any of that ever really happen? Was it his imagination playing tricks on him again? No, it was the void, playing with him. There was nothing else but the void and his mind and the void had the upper hand.

"The two of you have quite a reputation. A pleasure in causing trouble - pain and suffering, too. Anarchy. That's exactly what I'm looking for. You interested in a job?" the underworld enforcer asked the young men, Ayfnent and Reinstrom.

"That depends - what you paying?" Reinstrom demanded.

"No, forget the money, who do we have to hurt?" Ayfnent asked with relish.

The enforcer laughed. "Yep, it sounds like you're just the men we need!"

He longed for a release from the void. Death, if such a thing really existed. Perhaps this was his death. His punishment for a life of cruelty. It hadn't ended that way, though, had it? He was sure it was different at the end. There was no cruelty, only business. There was no revenge, only money. Only contracts. But that was after..?

"Ah, my boys are back! I hear my, er, associate had seen the errors of his ways, thanks to you two. Ayf - I gather you particularly enjoyed applying a bit of pressure on my behalf! Here's your owing..." the underworld enforcer happily and held out a credit chit. Reinstrom grabbed it hungrily but Ayfnent was more interested in learning their next assignment. He could tell from their employers eyes that there was another assignment about to be doled out.

"Oh, yes!" Reinstrom crowed as the credit chit displayed the amount of credits at a press of a thumb pad.

"With a little bonus for a job so well done. Don't spend it just yet, though - I have another job for you both. This one's a very special one. Very special, indeed. It seems you have gained the attention of the Empire..." the two brothers instantly looked concerned, "no, nothing to worry about. Far from it, infact. What with your work for me and your more, er, freelance work as part-time bounty hunters, the Empire wants to employ you both specifically."

"How did they know to contact us through you?" Afynent said suspiciously.

"I've got contacts at the local garrison, as I'm sure you've already guessed, given some of my earlier jobs for you. Word has come down from the commander there that there's a little bit of work they'd like to put your way. This isn't official, you won't find it on the normal bounty lists. They want you two and just you two. You're reputations in local bounty hunting circles are already preceeding you!"

"How much?" Reinstrom asked the obvious question, the question that most readily came to his mind.

"Fifty thousand Imperial Credits - each!"

Reinstrom nearly dropped his credit chit - something he had never done before thanks to his vice-like grip where money was concerned.

"That's over five times what we'd normally get. Tell me this is someone important, someone who has to suffer a long and painful death!" Ayfnent enthused.

"As it happens..."

The Imperial officer had no idea that he was being stalked. It had taken days before Ayfnent and Reinstrom finally watched him leave the safety of the Imperial compound. They followed the unmarked airspeeder down toward the entertainment district of the city in their own, rather less well maintained open-top vehicle.

Diving off the traffic stream the Imperial's speeder flew into the parking garage half way up an exclusive tower block. Following a few seconds later the brothers hoped they hadn't been seen, this would be a good way to try to shake them as the exit was on the opposite side of the building. As they decelerated into the large parking level they instantly saw their luck was in. Walking across the half empty car park the lone Imperial turned with a start as he heard another vehicle coming towards him - and accelerating.

With a sickening crunch the Imperial bounced off the right hand side wing of the now badly dented airspeeder, he hadn't quite managed to dive out of the way in time. A squeal emanated from the repulsorlift array as Ayfnent jammed on the brakes. As soon as the speeder slammed to an abrupt halt, and the two occupants had recovered from the g-force, Reinstrom jumped out and ran back to the Imperial sprawled on the ground. Ayfnent reversed the vehicle the short distance and his brother heaved their semi-concious victim onto the back seats.

Leaving only a small pool of blood and an abandoned Imperial airspeeder, the two brothers excitedly sped their way out of the building and cut into a traffic lane heading toward their squalid makeshift home in the industrial district.

"I recognise this one - he's the officer who came to the house that night..." Afynent said with a strange far-away quality to his voice.

"Are you sure, that was a good 20 years ago?" Reinstrom asked, the younger brother's memory of the day not being as sharp as Afynent's almost photographic recollection.

Ayfnent hadn't looked up from the unconscious form of the one time Republic, now Imperial, Officer. The years hadn't been kind to him and the wounds didn't help but it was unmistakably the same man. Ayfnent nodded simply.

"It's big money, all we've got to do is kill him - or even just leave him to die, he's certainly well on his way..." Reinstrom said uncertainly, unsure what was going through his brother's mind.

Ayfnent looked up, directly into his brother's eyes, and spoke firmly, "I'll do more than kill him."

Another dose of adrenaline was pumped into the Imperial, this time twice the amount as before. Again the Imperial came round with a start but this time the combination of pain and drugs were enough to give his mind a degree of focus and clarity.

"Who are you?" he mumbled, blood bubbling in his mouth as he did so.

"Your executioners." Afynent proclaimed as he began to twist a primitive rusty corkscrew into his quarry's leg.

"Why are you - aghhh... The Commander - he know's... I'm wor... rebel..."

"You're working for the rebels?! Well that explains the big money but not why he didn't just arrest and interrogate you himself." Reinstrom chipped in, watching, as ever, in slight distaste at his brother's enthusiasm for inflicting pain.

"I know, the Empor-aghhh! Palpatine... The war, the ships..." the Imperial traitor said before screaming out in pain as Ayfnent ripped the corkscrew from his already shattered leg.

"Hand me the vegetable grater." Ayfnent said, ignoring what his captive was saying but immensely enjoying the obvious suffering the man was in.

"Please... I've only jus... Only now... sure... Kuat drive yards... Clone wars... both sides... Must tell Senat... Bai... Organa..."

"Kuat Drive Yards? Ayfnent says you're the one who came to tell us our parent's were killed in an accident there..." Reinstrom rushed the words out, sensing their prisoner had some chilling truth to tell them. Suddenly alarmed that he answers may soon die he shouted out to his brother, "Stop! Let him talk!"

Ayfnent had about given up waiting for his brother to fetch his next implement for him, even though it had just been a few seconds, and began to bring the now flesh covered corkscrew to the Imperial's ear. He stopped short and looked over at his brother's insistent expression.

"He knows something. Something about..." Reinstrom was cut off by a shrill alarm. The two brother's, as one, shot glances at a monitor by the door. Imperial Stormtroopers filled the screen. They both jumped up and ran to a beat up old metal locker by the windows. Ayfnent got their first and ripped open the door. He reached in and pulled out an old jetpack and threw it at Reinstrom, then reached in again to pick up a blaster carbine.

"Go, I'll hold them off. You know where to meet me. GO!" Ayfnent yelled at his brother.

"What about the prisoner? He knows... that's why they want him dead - and us!" Reinstrom said hurriedly as he put the jetpack on and his brother pushed him toward the windows.

"GO! NOW!" Ayfnent bellowed as he barged his brother, smashing him out of the window to fall the 60 storeys or, he hoped, to use his jetpack to fly to safety.

Ayfnent turned back to the Imperial and the door beyond just in time to see that door explode inward. A series of blue blaster bolts came from the thick smoke in a totally random fashion. Afynent wasted no time and sent his reply, a barrage of red blaster bolts, into the already dissipating smoke. A Stormtrooper fell in the doorway but the others behind swarmed in, seemingly paying no attention to their fallen comrade. One of the group made an immediate move to Ayfnent's prisoner, like the others completely ignoring any personal danger or opportunities for cover, and coldly sent off a series of red laser bolts at the dying man.

Dropping another Stormtrooper helped Ayfnent's odds but only marginally. The ten remaining Stormtroopers fired wildly in his direction, the remaining glass in the windows behind exploding all around him. It felt like longer but it then took less than a second for one of the blue bolts to slam into his stomach. Ayfnent doubled over and collapsed forward as the Stormtroopers fanned out to secure the rest of the otherwise empty property, continuing to fire indiscriminately as they did so.

Consciousness slowly washed in and out for Ayfnent. He didn't know where he was or how long he had been there and, in his current state of semi-consciousness, didn't care too much either.

Gradual awareness of his surroundings came as the background noises and gentle vibration of the hard surface he was laying on eased into his mind. He was certainly in a transport of some kind and he was pretty sure he was on its metal floor. The odd murmuring sound suggested he wasn't alone and probably wasn't in a small personal compartment, either. He opened his eyes a crack, or rather one eye as the other was sticking together, to have a quick peak at his predicament. It wasn't a dream - he really was a prisoner of the Empire.

He was on the floor of a fairly featureless cargo hold. Before him he could see two Imperial Stormtroopers guarding an internal doorway. Around him he could just about make out a few others prisoners, most of them huddled up against the cold grey walls. Given the noise and slight turbulence it was obvious that whatever craft they were in was flying through an atmosphere.

Why wasn't he dead? Why did they only stun him rather than kill him as they did the rebellious Imperial that he and his brother had snatched? Did they get Reinstrom?

Ayfnent sat up suddenly, prised both eyes fully open and quickly looked around the other prisoners. No, Reinstrom wasn't there. He didn't know if that were good or bad.

For the most part the prisoners did their best to ignore one another with only the occasional muffled exchange, as if they were afraid too much talking might induce the armed Stormtroopers to open fire (not an unrealistic fear). Ayfnent shuffled across to a large empty spot against one wall and sat their surveying the room and its occupants. Clearly most were criminals, by the look of them probably fairly petty criminals, at that. Almost certainly they were heading to a detention centre somewhere. If he was still on his home planet then they were likely heading for the notorious Jarewquay Holding Centre a good few thousand miles to the south. Few people ever came out of that place, even fewer came out alive. The alleged atrocities were the stuff of sick legend in the criminal underworld and rumour had it that you'd be better off committing suicide before allowing yourself to be taken there. All sorts of nasty images came into his head, most of which Ayfnent had already tried on others. He didn't like the idea of being on the receiving end of such torture one bit.

Nothing happened for nearly 20 minutes. Then, without warning, the interior door slid open and in marched two more Stormtroopers closely followed by an Imperial Major.

"Mr. Buntz - I have some further questions to ask you..." the Imperial Major announced in Ayfnent's direction.

"Further?" Afynent asked, not standing as the group of three approached him.

"Perhaps you don't remember but you've already been very helpful in providing information on your Rebel friends, oh yes."

Rebel friends? What 'Rebel friends' Afynent asked himself. Clearly it was some Imperial ruse to put him off guard. The two Stormtroopers grabbed him under the arms. Ayfnent didn't resist, he allowed them to pull him to his feet and he was walked out of the holding area.

No sooner than the metal door slid shut in its rapid and uncompromising way than Ayfnent found himself being pinned against a wall and savagely punched in the stomach.

"What did he tell you before we got there?" the Imperial Major snarled, the calm and civilised demeanour from a few moments ago gone.

Ayfnent, despite being severely winded, looked up at his interrogator with contempt but made no attempt to say anything.

"If you want to play it like that, so be it. Any knowledge you think you now have will do you no good when you're dead, oh yes. You and your brother."

"Rein?" Ayfnent studied the other man's face but he'd played far too much sabacc to be fooled. "You haven't got him. And if you haven't got him now then you'll never find him. That's what you really want me to tell you, isn't it? Well, I don't know where he is..." Ayfnent stated firmly before being punched in the stomach by one of the Stormtroopers again.

The reaction of his Imperial 'friends' alerted him to something being wrong before his brain managed to register the wailing siren. The transport shuddered and a voice came over the intercom "Rebel troops have entered the transport! Rebel troops have ent..." The voice was cut off with a couple of seconds of static before that too died completely.

"Looks like I'll have to locate your brother without your help - I can't take the risk with you. Not now." The Imperial Major drew his blaster pistol and without any pause for thought, without even a glimmer of hesitation, he aimed the blaster at Ayfnent's face and pulled the trigger.

A searing combination of heat and pain burnt its way through his face. He was vaguely aware of himself being let go and sliding down the wall. All he could see was a deep blackness filled with millions of multicoloured stars raining at him.

As if from afar a voice echoed into his mind "Sterilise the hold!" It may have been the Imperial Major but Ayfnent could no longer tell.

Two more bolts of pain lanced into his chest but Ayfnent refused to left himself die. Part of his mind was willing the end on. That part of him really did want to let go but he wouldn't be beaten like this. He couldn't be beaten like this.

More distant, yet strangely close, sounds filtered their way into the remains of his head. Blaster shots, scuffling sounds, a door? He tried to piece together what must have been happening around him, in a desperate attempt to keep a grip on life and the world that was slipping away from him.

"They've all had it, General. Those bastards have sterilised the hold they were all in..."

"This one's still alive - just."

"He'll never make it back to home base - look at him, he's dead already."

"We've got to try. You three, check all the prisoners, just in case. You help me with this one. Dr. Necker may be able to help him and he help us. Failing that there's always Doc Halum..."

Yes, that was when the blackness, the void, began. After that, for what felt like an eternity, the void ruled as it did again now. Was it death? Is this death? What came in between, was that real? It didn't feel quite as real as what came before. The intensity was still there but it was different. Controlled. Had the void tamed him? Had the void made him reborn? To test him? Had he failed? Was this why the void had reclaimed him?

He was increasingly sure that the void was turning him insane. Amusing itself, playing with his mind. They were two entities locked in perpetual conflict. Were they all that really existed? No. He refused to allow that thought. He was in limbo, yes, but there was more to reality than the void and himself. There had to be. He'd escaped the void once before...

There was an intense pain and an even more intense light. It was like he was waking up after a fever. There was disorientation, nausea. Memories started to seep back into his mind but they were confused and meaningless. He'd been rescued from... something. Death, nothingness. Somehow he had passed beyond that, into some other place. Vague background sounds slowly permeated his gradually re-establishing consciousness. A consciousness that his brain was somehow telling him had ebbed away into a void. A void he had at last escaped.

"Can you hear me?" a slightly gruff and certainly booming voice called out. "Are you sure he's awake, Evelyn?"

"He's certainly conscious and I'm getting readings of activity in all the sensory areas... temporals, rhinencephalon, occipitals... Neurons are firing out of sequence, particularly the thalamus - not surprisingly. The patterns are beginning to emerge, however." a woman's voice replied. "Walex?"

"CTU is looking good, as is the thorax fusion unit. The technologies are looking better than I dared imagine, Doc." another male voice, older and more sober sounding than the first, added.

"Incredible! I knew we could do it! We've saved this man's life!" the increasingly manic sounding first speaker enthused.

"Yes but is he a man anymore?" the woman said with a slight quizzical quality to her voice.

The pain and nausea began to subside and, perhaps more importantly, the blazing white light was beginning to resolve into a scene. He tried to blink away the last of the fuzziness but something wasn't right. Though he could will his eyes to close, and it was starting to go dark when he did so, for some reason he couldn't actually feel his eyelids. He tried to bring his right hand up to his face but is wouldn't move. Three people in white lab coats slowly came into focus before him. Beyond them, around them, was a white laboratory or maybe a medical centre. He was upright, held up against a slightly soft surface not unlike a firm mattress. There was the vague sensation of straps holding him in place. Were they to stop him falling over or to restrain him - or both?

"Hello, er, AEC-1. Sorry, we never managed to find out your real name. I'm Bardsion, or 'Doc', Halum and these are my friends and colleagues - Dr. Evelyn Necker and Dr. Walex Blissex." Halum boomed cheerily, though ever so slightly nervously, as he indicated to the other two people in the lab coats. "Oh yes, and we saved you from certain death - well, that is, the most important part of you was saved from death. There was little we could do for your body so we, er, gave you a new one!"

What were they talking about? He managed to loll his head down to look at his body. He couldn't really remember much about anything but he was sure his body wasn't nearly as fit before as it looked now. And why was he wearing what looked like a chrome skin tight outfit? More importantly still, his torso was indeed strapped into some kind of now vertical bed but his arms were hanging freely by his side - why weren't they doing as he commanded?

One of the trio before him was wheeling some large object into his now limited field of view. It took a surprisingly amount of willpower to command his head back up to take a proper look at what they were doing. As he did so he caught view of a fourth person - what looked like a silver giant with a face from a nightmare... It's two red dots for eyes locked onto his the instant he saw them. The fearsome angry glare of the figure cut straight into him. It was a mirror. The figure's expression turned to that of horror as the truth finally sank in.

Yes, he had escaped the void before. He was a changed 'man' for it. A mechanoid, in fact. He was far stronger and more agile than he ever was as flesh and blood. He brain was all that remained, or so they told him. It took several days before he could begin to move properly again and several months of physical training before he could again walk, run and he eventually found himself even more dexterous than before. For a long time memories of his former life evaded him. They were back with him now, as they had been before the end, before the return of the void. Somehow they were more vivid here, though, in the void. Memories of choosing a new name for himself, unsure of the name of his old and now dead self. 'Death Bringer'.

The void had taught him. He was now cold and calculating. Precision and control. There was only business, never anything personal. Part of his mind used to whisper to him that he should get revenge but he couldn't remember on whom and it wouldn't have made any difference anyway - there was no profit in revenge. There was someone he had to find? He couldn't remember but it didn't matter anyway - his former self, whoever that was, was dead. His former life was over. The Rebel Alliance had saved him. Doc Halum and his colleagues had raised him from the dead and moulded him into their 'Anti-Empire Cyborg 1'. He wasn't their minion, though. Yes, he would work for them, for a price. He would work for anyone for a price, except the Empire but he couldn't explain why not for them at the time.

The void played at the edges of his mind again, as if trying to drive those thoughts and memories from him. He wouldn't allow that. He couldn't allow that. More memories played before his mind's eye. His spacecraft, the Prestinium, crash landing on a planet from a different time, different place. Somehow he, the Empire and various others from his galaxy had found their way into a region of space called 'The Triangle'.

Venwi's Claim... Yes, a fateful mission. An emergency conference between the two major local powers around the Triangle, the Federation and the Klingons. Their concerns over the sudden instability in the Triangle and the influx of new and particularly dangerous adversaries from unknown regions of space/time.

Mount Vequess... A showdown between Death Bringer and his old adversary Tonb Terak in the Utility Station atop the hollowed out volcano (now full of water for power generation and water supply for Venwi's City below).

He winced as the memory of falling into a machine came back to him. The memory of his right arm and half his right leg being mangled in it. Terak taunting him as he was trapped, jammed in the machine. Terak's plan to destroy everyone and everything in the city below, including the secret conference, by demolishing one side of the volcano. The thought of the consequences - untold millions of tons of water washing away the city, undoubtedly killing the Federation President and Klingon Chancellor along with the innocent population. Being left for dead by Terak as the other fled the scene before the timer explosives did their job. Just managing to amputate his shredded right limbs and free himself moments before the explosives went off. Not enough time to even pull himself across the floor to the edge of the room, let alone to his ship or the detonation charges hundreds of metres below on the side of Mount Vequess.

The thud of the explosives going off. There were a few seconds of grace before the Utility Station and the rock it sat on collapsed into the sudden and torrential outburst of water. There was nothing he could do. Half way across the smooth metal floor there was nothing he could hold onto. The Utility Station was ripped apart around him. The ferocious unleashed energies of the water tore the comparatively flimsy structure apart. The power of the water smashed into him, engulfed him. There was no resistance possible.

So he was now dead after all? It was just him and the void? He'd failed to save the Conference and now he was paying the price, for eternity. No, he was letting insanity take hold. Memories of those last few seconds of life played and replayed through his mind. He wasn't dead. The void may have him again but he wasn't dead this time any more than he was last time. No, last time his meagre remains were kept alive for months in a special bacta vat, utterly devoid of sensory input. Was he back there again? Had they rescued what was left of him from the ruins of Venwi's City? No, this time he was trapped. He was suddenly sure he was trapped. Not in a void. No, somewhere else, somewhere more real. After the flood that must have washed away Venwi's City as Terak had planned. Yes, he must be trapped under the inevitable layers of mud and debris. He... Dilon... He'd promised Dilon's father, a command or general or somesuch in the Rebel Alliance, that he would look after him. Dilon was in Venwi's City with the Conference attendees... He tried to move, he imagined himself fighting his way through the mud to the surface but it was no good. The void still had him. If he really did still have arms and legs (or rather an arm and a leg left) then they weren't moving as far as he could tell. Did his limbs really exist or was it phantom limb syndrome, his sensation starved brain playing tricks on him? He was sure both his left and right arms were there but that was impossible - his right arm was lost in that machine. He could almost feel panic begin to rise but he cut it off, suppressed it. Where's the profit in panic? He would not let the void beat him...

"Damn scavengers!" the lead Human Ranger shouted as he fired a PPG shot near the group of one metre high creatures in their brown all covering robes. The glowing yellow eyes all urgently turned in the direction of the gunshot and the little beings scurried away, dispersing into the ruins of Venwi's City.

"Do you think they're native to here?" a Minbari Ranger asked his four comrades as he watched the Jawas run off into hiding.

"No, I think they're the owners of that pile of scrap ship we saw on the scanners. Similar technologies to the Empire." one of the other Human Rangers replied.

"Let's see what they've found..." the lead Human Ranger said, walking toward the area the Jawas had begun to dig.

"There's someone alive down there, barely..." a different Minbari Ranger said as he consulted some kind of hand scanner.

"Impossible, it's been nearly three months since this all happened. Besides, looking at this they'd have to be encased in mud - they could never breathe let alone last so long without food or water" the lead Ranger said, though oddly doubting his own logic. "We may as well get digging, though, we're not making much headway on this mission so far..."

They each took a simple fold-up spade from their backpacks and began to carefully dig the hard compacted mud with its mix of rock and concrete fragments (and worse). It was hard work and they'd dug down almost a metre before they noticed something silver and began to dig with their hands.

"It's a hand - a left hand..." one of the Rangers said. As he touched it the mud covered fingers flexed almost imperceptibly.

"Oh my god..." the lead Ranger said in quiet awe as they watched the silver hand move ever so slightly. "Carefully now..."

Cautiously scooping up clumps of the dense mud they slowly uncovered the arm, then the shoulder and moving up to where the head should be.

"It looks like he might be wearing some kind of helmet, maybe that somehow kept him alive..." the lead Ranger said as they uncovered the nightmarish face. They gingerly began to wipe away as much from the face as they could so at least he'd be able to breathe and see again. They gently cleared the mud from the vertical grill which they presumed to be covering his mouth. They then wiped as much from the flat discs that must be covering his eyes and a faint red dot flickered in the centre of each.

A blinding bright light burned into his eyes. At last he was escaping the void. He'd beaten it again...

"That isn't a helmet. He appears to be some form of cyborg." a Minbari Ranger announced to his comrades.

"Whatever, we need to get him back to our White Star. As the only survivor we've found he may have invaluable information on what happened here. Not to mention if it had anything to do with that rift up there." the lead Ranger said redundantly.

They silently and efficiently continued to dig around the Mechanoid's body. It quickly became obvious to them that he was in bad shape. Two gaping holes in the front of his torso exposed his innards, one showing a rib strut and the other the kiirium shielding around his fusion core. Neither were as serious as they appeared, fortunately. Worse, however, was the loss of his right arm and the lower part of his right leg. Over the twenty minutes it took them to completely uncover him Death Bringer drifted in and out of semi-consciousness.

"Okay, this chap looks rather heavy. You don't mind if I leave it to the Minbari among us to lift him?" the lead Ranger, a Human, said.

Death Bringer felt himself being lifted up onto his 'feet' and tried to take his own weight, forgetting that he was lacking limbs. Even if he did have both legs he was too weak to hold himself up anyway. The Minbari managed to prevent him falling over sideways and heaved him out of the hole in the mud.

* Water... * the Mechanoid said weakly as he realised it was taking all of what little energy he had left to remain conscious.

"Of course, sorry I didn't know if you needed to drink or not." the lead Ranger said as he reached into his backpack and retrieved a flask. Death Bringer tried to reach over to take the drink but it was more effort to move his arm all that way than he could muster. The Human reached over to him "Allow me. In here?" he asked as he brought the now opened flask to Death Bringer's mouth grill. He took the slight movement of the Mechanoid's head as a yes and poured a little in.

Death Bringer could feel the cool water sliding down his throat and down into his 'stomach'. There was an audible jolt in his belly as the fusion core sprang back into life after months of inactivity. He could already feel the strength returning to him. Systems coming out of hibernation, his brain coming out of hibernation. It wasn't quite a triumphant return to power that he might have hoped for, though. As the general weakness started to subside he felt more and more dreadful. One thing was for sure, he'd need a bit of time to recuperate before he started thinking about what to do next.

Over the next few hours the Rangers took him back to their ship and cleaned him up. He was quickly able to regain enough strength enough to be able to carefully hop around, as long as he kept his remaining hand leaning up against something. Captain Calder, who had lead the team that rescued him, walked into the White Star's small infirmary as Death Bringer was trying to make his way out.

"Please, sit down, rest." the Human Ranger Captain said as a request rather than an order. "You've been through a lot and I'm amazed you've survived this long, sturdy as you are."

Death Bringer hopped across to the nearest chair and allowed himself to fall into it in a semi-controlled fashion. He looked from Calder to a wall mounted computer screen that was showing an aerial image of the destroyed Venwi's City. * Any other survivors, huh? *

Calder looked grimly at the image. "Not that we've found but there's plenty of evidence of an earlier rescue effort. We only been here a few days but we estimate this happened two to three months ago."

* Three months, eh..? * Death Bringer said with understated surprise. Memories of the nightmare void were already fading like a bad dream but he wasn't sure if he were surprised that is was only three months or surprised that it was as much as three months. * Had a, er, friend down there. Goes by the name Dilon. Any word? *

"No, sorry. As I said we've only found you. I could try to put out some feelers. It looks like the local 'Federation' might have been behind the earlier rescue project. From what we've seen it looks like they were probably able to save some. We have some tentative contact with a few members of the Federation, the Rangers I mean - not us on this ship personally. I may be able to get a list of the survivors if you give us a couple of weeks. I wouldn't get your hopes up, though... We know that there are at least several hundred thousand bodies buried in the mud and wreckage down there..."

* The Federation President and Klingon Chancellor? * Death Bringer asked.

"We do know that President Sankey... didn't make it. The Deputy President, Preston I think, is also dead..."

* Preston? There was no Preston at the Conference? * Death Bringer remarked.

"I don't know, it's all rather sketchy. All hell's breaking loose in the Federation right now. Civil unrest and general panic - especially since these telepaths - Betazoids - were wiped out by what looks to us like some kind of planetary plague." Calder paused to change track slightly. "Official Klingon reports say that Chancellor Gowron survived that," Calder indicated the ruins on the computer screen, "but he's made no public appearances since. The entire Klingon Empire is apparently going into a security shutdown mode even more so than the Federation. The most visible threat, besides growing distrust between the Federation and Klingons, is this insurgent 'Empire'. We suspect that the 'First Ones', from our universe, are involved in all this as well, somehow." Calder paused to let the deluge of information sink in before giving his off the cuff opinion on things. "It's a mess out there and it's getting worse every day."

* Sounds like I've got some catching up to do, yes? And you are? What's your interest in all this, eh? *

"We represent what we like to call the 'Forces of Light'. We work for Delenn and Sheridan who are based on Babylon 5." Calder paused again, this time to gauge the other's reaction to the names but not getting any he continued. "Well, we're the good guys - we want to stop these conflicts and this death. As for why we are here, on Venwi's Claim, we're investigating these rifts between universes."

* There's a rift nearby? * Death Bringer asked the captain.

"Yes. This is the seventh rift we've so far discovered but it's not quite like the others. This one is drifting at a far greater rate, the others are all but 'stationary' - relative to some gravity well or other with only minor drift. This one isn't and we don't know why. Worse, it's much more powerful and, well, unstable than the others we've seen."

* Unstable? *

"The other rifts are all dumping some form of energy into this universe - well, it's almost like some form of anti-energy... it... it's hard to explain but it causes decay, destruction - entropy, almost. The point is this one is doing it much more so. The other rifts, their 'flow' is much weaker than this one. Those rifts you can actually travel through them from this side. It's much more work than coming back through them - going with the flow - but it is possible. Not with this rift, though, the 'current' is far too powerful for our ships and believe me, this little ship is a lot more powerful than you might expect."

* You've been through the other rifts, yes? *

"Personally, some of them, yes. We've got other teams of Rangers, other White Stars, doing a similar job so I haven't visited all the rifts but as an organisation we have. This rift is different, more powerful, and we're in real danger here - this world is on a direct collision course." Calder looked back at the computer monitor for a second before turning back and continuing. "What I'm really here for is to find out what, if any, connection the destruction of this lone city on Venwi's Claim has to do with this rift."

* None. The Klingon's chose this planet for the conference. Someone paid Terak to destroy the conference, kill the delegates, yes? Nothing to do with any rift effects. *

Calder nodded. "You were at the conference - a body guard of some description, can I assume?"

* Freelance Peacekeeping Agent, yes? *

"Sounds like we've got a lot in common, then - we try to keep the peace too."

The ship shuddered and a voice came over the intercom "Captain, the rift's effects are beginning to become extreme - it's belching again!"

"Okay, Lieutenant, prepare to open a jump point and get us out of here. Hold the jump point open as long as you can, though - if we can I want to see what effects it has on the planet."

"Yes, Sir"

Calder looked back at Death Bringer. "It looks like we got you out just in time. You're a very lucky 'Freelance Peacekeeping Agent'!"

* Always been lucky, yes... * Death Bringer said sounding anything but sincere as memories again began to flood back.

The ship shuddered once more but neither Calder not Death Bringer gave much of a reaction this time.

"Listen, you said you were 'Freelance'. You certainly seem to know something about the Federation and Klingons and, I suspect, something about the Empire. We could do with your help. These rifts are not natural, of that we are sure. Someone, or something, is making all this happen. We don't know who or why. Will you help us?"

* Hmmm... * Death Bringer said uncertainly.

"You help us and we can help you. Do you want to track down this Terak? Find out if this Dilon is still alive?"

* No profit in revenge, yes? Still, am on a retainer from the Rebels, that may be at risk if Dilon is dead... * Death Bringer pondered it for a moment. * Could also do with finding my ship, yes? * he looked down at his mangled body. * Access to this universe's replicator technology might not go amiss, either, huh? *

"We'll do all we can. Do we have a deal - sorry, I never did catch your name..?"

* Death Bringer, yes? *

"Do we have a deal, Death Bringer?"

* Beats being buried alive, huh? *

Captain Calder and his crew watched through the open jump point, safely - they hoped - on the other side in hyperspace. Before them the planet of Venwi's Claim and beyond that the sole star that the planet orbited. They watched in grim fascination as the invisible rift approached the centre of the system, the elevated energies spewing forth over everything in its path. The magnetic field of Venwi's Claim began to fluctuate, the core began to rapidly, impossibly rapidly, cool. The atmosphere began to bleed off. What little life there was began to spontaneously die. The stresses on the crust suddenly became immense as the layers below began to cool and shrink. The crust began to twist and crack as the rotation of the planet noticeably slowed. The star beyond began to expand and change from the current yellowy colour to a red.

The Ranger's White Star could no longer sustain the jump point but the death of Venwi's Claim, swallowed by the expanding red giant star, was certain. They all sat in silence for several minutes. This time it was an uninhabited system but with all these rifts about the fate of the entire Triangle, probably beyond, was not looking at all good.

They needed to close these rifts, at any cost, and they just might need the help of every warring faction to do it.

THE END.