Chapter 1
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CHAPTER Three:

"Keep moving," Lanna Tigris growled at the lion cub walking sullenly down the hall in front of her. The girl shot her a dirty look over her shoulder and picked at the medical scrubs she'd been given in sickbay.

"I want my clothes back," Kim muttered.

"Your clothes, if that's what you mean by those cleaning rags you were wearing, were filthy. You can replicate something else once you've had a decent shower."

"I'm clean," she shot back defiantly, then stopped and stared at the tiger with a gleam in her blue eyes. "Wait-replicator? I get to play with the replicator?"

Lanna scowled and pushed her shoulder to make her start moving again. "You smell like the inside of a refugee ship. I wonder why?" she drawled. "Go in there," she ordered, pointing at her quarters. "And if you touch that replicator without a by-my-leave, you'll regret it."

Kim sniffed indignantly and shoved her hands into the scrubs' pockets, slouching as she came to a halt by the indicated doorway. Lanna rolled her eyes as the green-shirted deputy who had been detailed as the cub's guard. The security officer shot Lanna an amused look as he took up his post beside her door. Snorting, the chief engineer escorted her younger feline charge inside.

Lanna's quarters were fairly Spartan, since most of her valued belongings were in storage in her San Francisco apartment or at her House's ancestral home on Quo'noS. Only a few personal items decorated the walls, the most impressive and visible of which were the Klingon weapons that were mounted on her wall around a targ skull.

The lioness came to a dead halt, her wide eyes fixed on the skull. "Is-is that the last person who used your replicator?"

The chief engineer sighed and ran a hand down her face. Despite Deano's reminder to empty her quarters of dangerous objects, she'd forgotten about these. "No, it's not. Kim, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Kim replied, still staring at the skull. Maybe it hadn't been a victim of the replicator, but whatever it was, it looked mean.

"Follow me. I'll show you how the shower works, then we can see about getting you some clothes." Lanna started to shove the cub in the direction of the shower. Kim twitched away and stalked ahead on her own, the picture of an indignant cat.

"I already told you, I want my clothes back."

"I already told you, we'll get you some new ones."

"Like yours?" Kim demanded.

"No, not like mine," the lieutenant commander snapped back, pulling towels out of storage. Sonic showers were fine, but she was willing to bet this kid hadn't seen a water shower in ages.

"Good. Those silly outfits you all wear are . . . are . . . silly."

Lanna arched an eyebrow at the cub. "Despite your astonishing grasp of language, I don't really give a damn what you think of our uniforms. We'll find something in the database that's acceptable to your discerning tastes-after you're clean." She slid the shower door open. "In."

Kim eyed the shower warily and turned to face the irritated tigress. "It better not be one of your silly outfits. You don't even have pockets. And you call yourself an engineer! How can you be an engineer without pockets?"

"I ask myself that every day, kid," Lanna muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. In!" Lanna pushed Kim into the shower, scrubs and all, and shut the door behind the cub. "The controls are at the front. Towels are on the counter." Ignoring the teen's mumbled complaints, Lanna returned to her central living area to deal with the problem of her décor. The weapons, she decided, would just have to go back into their case and stay with Security while she was stuck with this kid.

Lanna opened her closet and hauled out the padded case she used to transport her weapons around, quickly stowing each one of them before she secured the case. A quick twitch of her ears assured her that the water in the shower was still running. Tigris ducked her head outside the door and beckoned to the security officer on duty. "Ensign?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Could you take these to the armory for me? I think I can take on a half-starved cub if she tries anything funny before you're back." Lanna held out the weapons. The ensign looked at the case for a moment before he nodded, trying not to smile.

"I'll only be a few minutes, ma'am." Lanna nodded and ducked back into her quarters to browse through the replicator database. The kid had an unfortunate point. Almost everything in the database was either skin-tight, pocketless, or both. She was still dissecting the database when her combadge chirped.

"Fuhrer to Tigris."

"Tigris," she snapped, scowling at a pattern for one of the old-style Engineering uniforms that had a skirt. How was anybody supposed to crawl through Jeffries tubes in a skirt?

"How's the kid?" Deano asked.

"Obstinate and ornery. She's not too likely to kick my ass. I guess that's why I'm babysitting instead of you," Lanna answered dryly.

"Ha. Ha."

"Speaking of ass-kicking, Fuhrer, you still owe me five rounds. Don't think I haven't forgotten."

"Hey! I never agreed!" Deano protested half-heartedly.

"You're backing down from a challenge?" Lanna taunted. "Would you rather I set you up to spar with Perdia?"

"Been there. Done that. You just want to see a little girl hand me my tail, admit it."

Lanna smirked but remained silent.

"Anyway, what would you fight me with now that your weapons are all in the armory?" Deano's tone was droll. "Thanks for sending those down, by the way. I've got one teenager with a dangerous weapon on this ship, I don't need a second."

"Sure, whatever," Lanna replied, waving his thanks aside as she paged through the clothing options. "I've had enough headaches today without being assaulted with one of my own Bat'leths."

"You sound a little distracted. Is she behaving?"

"I'm trying to find something for her to wear." Lanna snorted. "Apparently our uniforms are ‘silly' because we don't have pockets."

"Out of the mouths of babes," Deano replied.

"Tell me about it," Lanna answered with a smirk. "Do we have an official time for the debrief with the captain yet?" The tigress stopped when she found something that looked somewhat acceptable, replicating some cargo pants and a simple top that she hoped would fit the underfed cub.

"You know the captain. He wanted the debriefing to be about half a second after you were all beamed back, but Doc Pierce pulled medical rank and said we'd all have to wait until morning. He even asked Elizabeth to attend. Unless you have something urgent about the situation?"

"No, there's nothing that needs immediate attention. Zannah and Perdia took care of the saboteur."

"Think he was the only one?" Deano asked, sounding concerned.

"I think so, but you could go ask Zannah if you want to brave the wrath of Pierce." Lanna put the clothes she'd replicated right outside of the bathroom door.

"I might. In the meantime, we've got the refugees under secure lockdown. We sent teams over to the JAVELIN to look for bugs and anomalous activity."

"The ship nearly blew up and you're looking for ‘anomalous' activity?" Lanna echoed dryly.

"They're trying to repair the worst of the damage and search what they can, but we don't have the personnel to scour the ship deck by deck – not with so many refugees on board the FELIX."

"I'll contact my teams over there and tell them to keep an eye out," Lanna said. A quick call to Lieutenant Raymond had assured her that the explosion had done little damage to the FELIX, but the JAVELIN was another story. Teams of engineers had been dispatched to fix things while she and her team were still missing in action. "You do know that once the kid gets out of the shower, I'm serious about us going a few rounds."

Deano sounded resigned. "Geez, did the Romulans ruffle your fur so much?"

"Fuhrer. They're Romulans."

"Right, right. If things are secure here and the kid's not causing any problems, sure. Speaking of the kid, see if you can't get any information out of her, will you?"

"Interrogation is your department, not mine."

"Funny. You're a funny woman. Why don't you bring her to Gym 1? Bret's not security, but she's okay with kids. Brett can entertain her, maybe find something out, and you can work out your unreasonable aggression on some poor punching bag."

"My aggression is perfectly reasonable, and the punching bag's name is Deano Fuhrer. Brett's team should be done with our repairs in about an hour. I'll send the rest of them over to the JAVELIN and put Brett on babysitting duty."

"Sounds good. Fuhrer out."

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

The guest quarters aboard the IMPERIOUS were dark, the corridors outside the sleeping Sith lord's room silent as the crew made their preparations for the upcoming invasion.

Luxurious robes littered the room's furnishings, evidence of the carelessness for which Darth Korriban had been chided on many occasions. For once, his personal effects were few, confined to his wardrobe and the small device that rested silently on the table at his bedside. It was small, easy enough to conceal from a belt clip or in the palm of a hand, molded from black metal with tracings of Aurebesh along the sides.

A pinprick of red light suddenly appeared at the top of the device, beginning to blink against the sleeping leopard's eyelids. When a few minutes had passed with no reaction from the dark lord, it began to emit a series of soft beeps.

Korriban slid instantly from the bed, snatching the object into his hand. A lethal smile curved over his face, his fangs white against his black fur as he pressed a button hidden on the underside of the small receiver.

"My lord," a grainy voice reported. "It is as He has foreseen. The prize has been found."

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

Marc looked up wearily as the door to the captain's quarters slid open to allow his wife entrance. She looked as tired as he felt, her spotted ears and tail dragging. "Hey, Lizzy."

The Trill counselor rubbed her eyes before she looked to her husband. "I didn't even see you there," she admitted.

"It's been a long day for both of us." The fox tossed aside the stack of PADDs he had been pretending to read. "I did get the kids to go to sleep."

Elizabeth nodded and went to their replicator unit. "Black coffee, please. Hot. Do you want any, Marc?"

"If I drink coffee, I won't sleep. I've got the early bridge shift before the debriefing."

Lizzy gave another tired nod and took the cup of coffee that materialized. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you get the children to bed. I was up in the medbay," she said carefully, watching her husband's face as she sipped her drink.

The captain's expression grew dark and shuttered. "How are they?"

"The team's injuries aren't life-threatening. It's the rest of it that is."

Marc stood up. "What do you mean, the rest of it?" he asked, glancing out the window at the battered JAVELIN. Even now there were crews aboard the ship from the FELIX, combing for surveillance technology and repairing damage so they could get the heap of junked parts away from the Rift.

The counselor sat down on the couch that Marc had vacated. "Zannah told me that some fairly bad things had happened. I'm sure they'll tell you all about it in the debriefing, but they need time to recover," she added sternly when she saw the beginnings of a scowl on her husband's face. "Nearly being blown up and then held captive aboard a Romulan ship isn't the sort of thing you're going to forget details of."

"I suppose." Marc crossed his arms, his gaze still focused on the damaged refugee vessel.

"Marc . . . Zannah told me that Perdia's going to need time." Lizzy stared down into her coffee. "Dr. Pierce said she'd had some sort of – of panic attack. They had to sedate her before I even got there. We can't press her for answers."

Marc clenched his hands into fists. "Then what are we supposed to do, Lizzy? She's lived with us for two years now. Two years where we've treated her like she's our own daughter, and she still won't trust us! Every time she has a nightmare she goes to Zannah instead of you. Hell, she won't even ask me for help with her homework! We were supposed to be doing something good by adopting her!"

"We did do something good by adopting her," Lizzy answered as calmly as she could, though she was scowling too. "She's our daughter, Marc. Nobody ever said raising a teenager with-with telekinesis, telepathy, and a laser-sword would be easy! She's never had parents and the records I got of her time in the Federation orphanages were absolutely abyssymal. Trust is something that takes time to build-"

"I've only had command of this ship for a little longer than we've had Perdi," Marc interrupted. "The crew trusted me right away. Why can't she?"

Elizabeth frowned. "Marc, the crew trusts you to lead them because Starfleet trusted you to become a captain. But that doesn't mean they all come to you for help for every little problem they encounter throughout the day. For psychological problems, they come to my office. For medical they go to Pierce. If an ensign is having difficulty with their work, they go to their immediate superior-not to the captain. You know that."

"She goes to Zannah more than she goes to us."

"Did you go to your parents with every problem when you were a teenager?"

"No, but I went to them if it was important!" Marc snapped. "She won't come to us no matter how hard we try."

The peach-furred cat shook her head and put her coffee aside. "I know you're stressed and it's been a long day, but this is unreasonable, Marc. You know damn well why she goes to Zannah – for the same reasons you do, to learn about this Force you've got."

"And that's another thing. I'm not sure Zannah should be training her anymore. It was one thing when she was teaching her how to control herself-but teaching her how to fight with a lightsaber?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her husband. "That's not jealousy talking because Zannah won't let you have your own lightsaber, is it?"

"Of course not!"

"Of course not," she repeated, quietly amused. "We can talk about this in the morning. We both need sleep before the debriefing in the morning."

Marc frowned. "I didn't know you were planning to attend."

"I saw Dr. Pierce when I was visiting Perdia and Zannah. He said that you may need me to be there."

"Need you-I don't like the sound of that, Lizzy."

Elizabeth stopped and turned to face him, already halfway through the doorway to their bedroom. "Neither do I, Marc. Neither do I."

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

Commander Cyber Hare clasped her blue-furred hands behind her back and fought to keep a knowing smile off her face. She was standing in the captain's ready room alongside Marc Xavier, who was brushing imaginary wrinkles from the upper portion of his uniform. "Is there a problem, sir?" she asked politely.

Marc made a face at his first officer. "Is it that obvious?"

"I couldn't say, sir."

The captain sighed and stopped fidgeting. "I just don't like having to run to the admiral for help again," he muttered, disgusted. "I'm a captain. I'm fully capable of making decisions without having to ask him for advice."

As hard as she tried, Cyber couldn't help but raise one eyebrow at the captain. "Indeed." Though seeing Marc Xavier nervous was hardly anything new – the crew had nearly resorted to sedatives when their captain's wife had gone into labor with their twin children – seeing him so defensive was unusual.

The brown-furred fox shook his head. "Oh nevermind. Open the channel please."

Admiral Rikes' face appeared on the viewscreen instantly. The years had been kind to the older canine, and the aura of calm that surrounded him in person was not diminished by the thousands of lightyears that separated him from the young captain and his crew. "Captain Xavier. How can I be of service?"

Marc took a deep breath, his posture straightening. "Admiral, sir, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all." Rikes glanced down at something not visible to the two younger officers. "When I told you to contact me if you ever had a problem, I meant it.

"Yes, sir." Marc sighed. "We've had an incident, sir, a major one. We haven't prepared a full report yet due to some injuries sustained by the away team-"

A frown creased the English setter's forehead. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Nothing permanent," Marc reassured the admiral. "But we've kind of got a . . . a problem." The captain ran his hand through his hair wearily. "The short version is that we've got a broken-down refugee vessel and all its passengers here."

"Ah." Admiral Rikes leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers together on his desk. "Bring them to Antares, Captain Xavier. I'll summon vessels to redistribute them." The elder canine gave a slight smile. "Besides, I have something here I think you'll want to see."

Marc gave a relieved nod. "Thank you, sir. We'll give you a full report when we arrive."

"I look forward to hearing the explanation, captain."

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

"Despite the expectations of this crew, this is a medical facility, not an entertainment venue," Dr. Pierce growled as Deano Fuhrer walked into his medbay. "If you're looking for something to do, that's what holodecks are for."

Deano bit back a grin. "Good to see you too, Doc. I'm here to see your patients again."

The doctor crossed his arms and scowled at the younger man. "There's plenty of refugees you can talk to who aren't in my medbay."

"You know that's not who I mean. I need to speak with Zannah and Perdia, if you're not going to let them come to the security briefing."

"They're resting," the canine answered with a slight huff. "In fact, they're doing something I like to call ‘recovering'. Patients are supposed to do that in a medbay. If you want to interrogate them, you can wait until they're fully healed."

"Pierce," the commander sighed. "Please. If either of them are awake, or even just close to it, I need to know if there are more of those saboteurs out there."

"Fine, but if you upset my patients, I'm not giving you treatment."

Deano winced at the memory of Perdia's boot flying right toward his face back on Bajor. "Fair enough."

The doctor scooped up a pair of PADDs and went back to work as Deano moved toward his patients' beds. The chief of security approached cautiously. The way that Perdia and Zannah had both seemed to panic the night before had left a feeling of dread in his bones that he couldn't shake, even now.

"If you're going to stand there waiting to see if I'll bite you, you can save yourself the time," Zannah's voice came wearily from the other side of the privacy curtain. "I only bite people when they deserve it."

Deano chuckled and tugged the curtain aside, dropping into the chair beside the vixen's bed. "Nice to see you too. I brought you a present." He held out Zannah's lightsaber. "We finished checking it out. The Romulans don't appear to have sabotaged it or anything of that sort."

"Thanks." Zannah slid the saber into the concealment pocket on her uninjured leg. She had bullied one of the nurses into retrieving real clothes from her quarters earlier that morning. It hadn't been easy fitting her cast-covered leg into her jumpsuit, but it did make her feel more alive to not be in one of those stupid medical gowns. "Are you here to take me to the briefing?"

The commander held up his hands. "Whoa, now. I like my head right where it is. Pierce will remove it if I take either of you out of here without his say-so."

Zannah crossed her arms and frowned at Deano. "I need to be there. Lanna could tell the rest of you what she saw, but she wasn't in that medbay, and she didn't fight that Hunter."

"Well-" the chief of security glanced around, looking for something else he could use as an excuse to avoid the doctor's wrath. "What about Perdia?"

Zannah glanced toward the curtain that separated her bed from her student's. "She'll be fine," she told him uneasily. "They told me she'd probably sleep through the briefing."

Deano sighed and stood up. "Stay here. I'll go talk to the doctor and see what we can come up with."

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

The mechanized hum of Coruscant's constant air traffic melted into nothing as the Emperor entered his private quarters. The formerly-spartan rooms had belonged to all of his predecessors, the clones who had come before, and their footprints echoed faintly in the Force. The original template had left his mark, too; the long-ago feeling of despair at the state of his dying order was a soothing balm to the clone Emperor's dark greed.

The wizened fox set aside his cane and sank into the chair at the center of the room. His gnarled fingers moved quickly over the controls on the console in front of him, slowly bringing the device to full power. As the console beeped to life, a small blue holographic figure appeared over it.

"Master," the kneeling figure said tremulously, his deep voice transformed into a nearly adolescent squeak of excitement. "My hunters have found the child." The holographic image of Darth Korriban looked up, his tail swishing rapidly. "We've lost contact, but the readings indicate that she is only just beyond the Rift, well within our reach. The sample's measurements are unheard of. My operatives will move toward the Rift. I shall capture the child and deliver her to you personally, my Master. Your faith in me has not been misplaced."

The holoimage vanished, replaced by the readings that the emperor's apprentice had been so thrilled by. The diminutive fennec studied the charts carefully, hysterical laughter building up next to the bile in his throat. Burning eyes narrowed as the supreme Sith Lord and Emperor of the Galaxy pored over the information arrayed before him. That the child that had bested Korriban should have raw potential enough to pose a threat to his Empire . . . It was at once inconceivable and thrilling, an opportunity unlike any other. The fulfillment of ten thousand years of Prophecy, both for the Jedi and the Sith. At last. Foretold, this one's coming was. And now, delivered to me, delivered to the Dark Side she shall be. The final piece of My grand design. The Final seal upon the fate of the Galaxy, forever!

The Emperor took a moment to revel in the raw, unbridled ambition, the mere thought of the power which this child could unleash causing his gnarled, stubby claws to clench and unclench with greed. His thoughts flew darkly over vistas of unimaginable power, of Godhood . . . but no. Patience was the way. Careful, careful he must be. He had come to rule the Galaxy based upon the principles of patience, guile, carefully applied force. Korriban, the fool, would rush headlong into anything which offered the promise of feeding his vanity . . . but Korriban was a fool, not an Emperor. In no event would the apprentice's flailing attempts at pleasing his own ego be allowed to jeopardize the Design. Not when it was so close, had almost literally fallen into his lap. He felt a specter of concern that he had felt no ripple, not even the slightest breath of her coming within the mists of the Dark Side . . . but no matter. Korriban must be leashed, kept in check, allowed to act, but not to extravagance. And that meant . . .

The Emperor stabbed viciously at the controls of his chair, swiveling it to face the starfield visible from the observation window of his chambers, quelling the licking flames of avarice in his heart , feeling the icy cold of the dark side's true nature filling him. A moment passed, and a holographic representation of the greatest warrior in the Empire flickered to life, kneeling just above the emitter embedded in the chair's armrest.

"What is your will, my Master?" The tiger purred, head held low. His frustration at the Emperor's last-minute change of plans, while still hot, was now well under control, and even the Dark Lord of All Sith was hard pressed to read it in his movements or tone.

"Come, the time to act has, Lord Khal'Saad. Mobilize my fleets, and let this . . . Federation the full might of the Empire feel. Let the assault begin. Your own fleet only will you hold, as a strategic reserve, until otherwise I direct."

The grand admiral bowed even lower. While the additional interference was an annoyance, it was at least one which he had anticipated in any one of a dozen different deployment scenarios among the hundreds which he and his staff had devised. "As you command, Master. Your Will shall be done." The hologram flickered out at a gesture from the wizened monarch, and Khal'Saad stood, his face unable to hide a vicious smile at the command he had been given. He strode behind his command console, keying the main bridge link, his rank cylinder locking the communication to his own, securely encrypted feed.

"Captain Ferris."

The ferret's imaged turned as he faced the communications panel at his bridge console, his attention snapping into focus. "Your command, my lord?"

"It is time, captain. Commence the assault upon the United Federation of Planets. I am sending target and deployment packages directly to your console. Alert all commands – deploy as ordered." The tiger paused for a breath, then added, "His Majesty has ordered that we remain here for the time being – however, our presence or absence will hardly make a difference. The Federation will be crushed beneath our heel."

The ferret gave a crisp salute and could not suppress a predatory smile. "Very good, my lord. It shall be so." The ferret keyed several buttons on his own console, and added with a look the tiger knew well – "COM/SCAN has decrypted some Federation intercepts which you may find interesting, my lord – I am forwarding them to you now, as you requested."

The tiger glanced down at the scrolling data, the selfsame information Korriban had sent to His Majesty minutes before. The Emperor's apprentice was either too arrogant or too stupid to realize that there was nothing that occurred on board this command ship that Grand Admiral Khal'Saad could not know of if he chose. It mattered little – the information contained there first widened the Sith Lord's eyes, then narrowed them. He closed the file with a nod, saving it for later perusal.

"Well done, captain. Now carry out your orders. I expect your first deployment report within the hour."

The ferret nodded again, all business. He had not read what the intercepted report contained, and he didn't care to – Captain Ferris had learned long ago that the only information the Sith could not pluck from one's mind was information that had not been there in the first place.

"As you wish, my lord."

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

"I'm not sure I understand." Elizabeth Xavier set her copy of the away team's mission report down slowly, a frown creasing her brow. "In fact, I'm confident that I don't understand. How could a Rifter have a connection to the Romulans? The Rift is watched so closely . . ."

Lt. Commander Lanna Tigris snorted. "Our technology is good, but it isn't perfect. We don't know what all the Romulans have access to, and it's difficult to monitor the presence of a cloaked vessel when you don't know it's there. We didn't know it was there until they beamed us on board."

The captain frowned down the table of the briefing room. Only the senior officers and Zannah had gathered to hear the report. "Do we have any proof that the Romulans were working with this creature that attacked you?"

"Proof?" Zannah asked in an icy tone from the opposite end of the table. Pierce had allowed her to attend only on the basis that she keep her cast-bound leg elevated at all times. "What more do you require than what we've already presented? They freed that Sithspawn Hunter so that he could torture and kill me. So that he could kidnap your own child!"

Marc looked down at the reports that had been laid out in front of him. There was one from everyone on the team, except for Perdia. When he thought of how close they had come to losing both Jedi . . . The captain swallowed hard. "Without any physical evidence-"

"Marc." Lizzy laid her hand on the captain's arm, a concerned look on her face. "Zannah. No matter how much we argue over it, we cannot provide physical evidence that this Hunter was working in conjunction with the Romulans. But we can agree that the Hunter did seem to be specifically targeting Force-sensitive individuals. I think that's the problem we need to address."

Commander Fuhrer leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. "But how? The only ones who are capable of fighting them are Zannah and Perdia." The grey fox shook his head. "And no offense, Ms. Lyles, but neither of you are in fighting condition right now."

Zannah cleared her throat and ignored the slight frown on Marc's face. The captain didn't like to be reminded that his own skill with Force combat was less than that of the teenager he'd adopted. "No, that's true." She closed her eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of her nose. "There are too many Sith to fight them if they do come for us. Too many innocent people would be killed in the crossfire."

"Zannah-"

"No, Marc. Remember what the one who interrogated your crew did to Commander Fuhrer?"

"Gee, thanks," Deano mumbled.

"Even Perdi was able to defeat a number of your trained security personnel, and that was before she really started learning up from down in terms of the Force. A full-grown Hunter can't match either of us in power, but in physical training they may be superior." Zannah swallowed. "There's no way to fight them off."

"Then what do we do?" Commander Hare interjected calmly. "Staying here and presenting ourselves as a target is hardly logical."

"Which is why we're going to Starbase Antares," the captain interrupted. "Commander Hare and I spoke with Admiral Rikes this morning. He's expecting our arrival, and that of the refugees. He'll be able to handle this."

"This, perhaps, but not the Hunters." Zannah looked at Marc. "I have an idea about how to deal with them, but I need some time to work on it."

The captain sighed. "Very well. I still want to talk to Admiral Rikes about this . . . this situation, but I'll consider whatever you have to say."

Zannah gave a grim nod and slowly maneuvered the hoverchair she'd been given away from the table. "Good. I'll have it ready for you by the time we get to this Antares of yours."

"I'll be waiting."

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

Lt. Commander Lanna Tigris leaned against the railing, watching the hustle and bustle of Main Engineering from the upper deck. Below, her people were getting the FELIX and the JAVELIN ready to depart from the Rift. In order to make it to Admiral Rikes and Antares, the Starknight vessel would have to tow the badly-damaged Rifter ship at warp – and that meant getting the ships' speeds to match exactly. Normally, such preparations were a simple matter of disabling engine systems. For this trip, there were a lot more details. Her crew had the unenviable task of keeping the JAVELIN from having a total failure of structural integrity along the way.

The engineers had been kept scrambling all day. The most damaged sections of the hull had been cut away and scattered into small pieces that wouldn't damage passing vessels, then allowed to join the rest of the space debris that gathered around the Rift. Fixing the ship would have taken too much time and left them too exposed to potential additional attacks. Instead, the salvageable parts of the ship would be hauled along in the wake of the FELIX by tractor beams and a few hastily-rigged mooring beams, courtesy of Lt. Raymond. If everything went according to plan, the JAVELIN would not only be hauled along, but it would remain as intact as possible. It would never fly again, not for real space journeys, but Lanna didn't care. She wanted every last inch of that ship to be examined in case the Hunter had left any other surprises behind.

The Klingon tigress' eyes narrowed as her combadge beeped for the fourth time that day. Before she'd left her quarters for the morning debriefing, she'd had her little houseguest marked by the ship's computers. Every time the girl snuck out of her rooms, Lanna was notified – and so were Deano's personnel.

"Fuhrer to Tigris."

"Where?" Lanna growled.

The burst of laughter from the other end was slightly muffled. "Jeffries tubes. By the way, if you get a moment you may want to send someone up. The kid dismantled your replicator. Said she was trying to build a droid."

Lanna gave a low snarl. "You are going to regret telling me that when I see you on the holodeck, Fuhrer."

"Aw geez, Lanna, I-"

"Tigris out." The lieutenant commander severed the connection and looked around at the chaos of her department. "Ghonadie!"

The brilliantly-colored phoenix looked up from his station. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Are the starboard beams within variance?"

"Yes, ma'am. They were slow to ramp up, but they're holding steady now."

"Good work, ensign." The Terran smiled at the sparse praise, even as he bent back to his task.

"Tigris to the bridge."

"Go ahead, Commander Tigris," Captain Xavier responded.

Lanna looked over her command panel once more before posting her data to Lt. Raymond, who was covering the Engineering station on the bridge, and then forwarded the information on to the captain's chair.

"We're set down here. I've sent the data forward. All beams are in alignment. The JAVELIN is now connected to us, and her integrity looks stable."

"Thank you, commander. We'll proceed under your orders."

"Yes, sir. The maximum safe warp speed is 4.75. Helm, prepare to jump to warp on my mark." The lieutenant commander glanced down once more to confirm that all her engineers were at their posts. "Mark."

The FELIX and her massive cargo sprang to warp in an instant. Lanna's eyes narrowed as part of the JAVELIN's structural integrity field began to slide toward failure. The readout screen under her hand corrected for the stress of warp travel, easing the integrity field into alignment with the rest of the ship as Lt. Raymond worked his magic from the bridge.

The tigress silently nodded her approval. "Okay, people," she called down to the lower deck. "Raymond's got the first babysitting duty on the bridge. You all know when your turn is. Let's arrive in one piece, shall we?"

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

The commands of Grand Admiral Khal'Saad made their way to their destinations at speeds that beggared light itself, racing across hyperwave channels, triggering subordinate commands, bringing hundreds, thousands of ships, millions upon millions of personnel into bright, sharp focus of action, a unity of will like nothing before the Galaxy had ever seen.

The command, once given, was now executed.

From their staging points throughout the Core Oversector, hanging above the bright jewels of Corellia, Anaxes, Coruscant, Chandrila, and a thousand other worlds the assembled invasion fleets of the Galactic Empire moved as a single entity, launching into motion with a roar of pseudomotion, vanishing into hyperspace, en route to War and Conquest. A hammer-blow so devastating that once it struck fully home neither the Federation nor her allies would ever recover in any kind of meaningful way. Designed with the elegance and precision of a virtuoso of warfare, executed with the brutal efficiency of a Dark Lord of the Sith.

Grand Admiral Khal'Saad allowed himself a glass of dark red wine as the confirmation reports began to fill his holoscreen, watching his plan fall into place precisely as he had envisioned, his mind already leaping ahead to the near shores of victory, restrained only by years of hard-fought experience. Patience. All shall proceed as you have determined. There is no hope for the Federation – the best they can hope for is to prolong the inevitable. The Klingons are little more than vermin… ferocious, but ultimately worth less than a well-trained Wookiee. If they cannot be beaten into docility then they will be annihilated. Patience.

The tiger gently sipped from his glass and watched events begin to unfold, his lips slowly parting in a fanged smile of absolute, naked malice. Data had already begun to stream in, filling the holographic display.

And so it begins.

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