Stonerager Chronicles - Ch. 13

Stonerager Chronicles

By 2Charlie

This is a science fiction series that happens to include occasional erotic scenes. If you have not yet read previous chapters of this series, I highly recommend going back to do so before you read this chapter.

Fair warning: This chapter contains scenes of torture that some may find disturbing.

All characters in this story are of the age of majority.

Chapter 13

*****Cestus Medical Facilities, Mid-Afternoon, Day 61*****

Dutch and Pheebs made their way through the busy medical facility until they came to the area where Alisia had been resting. When they entered, the former fighter pilot was already in her uniform, working to get her hair under control. Dutch simply walked up to her and wrapped her in his arms. The two silently held one another for a long moment, before he kissed her, then stepped back.

Pheebs stepped in for a quick hug, then gestured for the other woman to turn around so she could help with her hair. A few moments later, the three of them were off in search of Jjan'tira.

Entering the room with the growth chamber, they encountered a haunting site: Jjan'tira was floating upright within a tank of dark fluid, her right arm nearly reformed.

A medical AI hologram flickered to light, welcoming the trio and, upon identifying them, provided them with an update on Jjan'tira's condition. "Jjan'tira's damaged arm was removed at the shoulder, and the growth of a new limb was artificially stimulated. Her muscles will be stimulated late during the regrowth process through Electrokinesis, but will remain only moderately effective. The new arm will require a period of adjustment while she transitions back to service aboard your starship."

"What kind of challenges will she face?" Alisa asked the medical AI.

"She will undoubtedly face physical challenges, such as motor coordination, strength, stamina, and sensory adaptation," the medical AI answered after the briefest of pauses. "The newly regrown arm will require time to establish precise motor control. She might struggle with fine movements, such as operating controls or handling delicate objects. Tasks demanding physical exertion could be temporarily challenging. She may also experience unusual sensations while her body adapts to the newly grown nerves."

"What else should we be aware of?" Dutch prodded.

"You should anticipate an adjustment period once she regains consciousness. Having her arm regrown could prove disorientating, accompanied by feelings of uncertainty or frustration during rehabilitation. Recovery will be very demanding on her emotional resilience, leading to mental fatigue or stress." The hologram paused for a moment before adding, "Her transition back to starship life will be smoother if she has access to medical resources, physical therapy programs, and psychological support. In addition, flexible duty assignments will be essential as she adjusts to the new limb."

"How much longer will she be in regeneration?" Dutch inquired, looking closely at the new arm, amazed at the medical technology of this century.

"Jjan'tira will require another thirteen hours to complete the regen cycle, and can be released following a standard four-hour observation period to ensure no signs of rejection manifest," the AI responded.

After digesting this information, the three excused themselves and searched for D'narius. After consulting a directory AI, the three navigated their way to the cerebral trauma unit, whereupon they found D'narius in a sedated state, resting peacefully in a dimly lit room. Entering quietly, Dutch, Pheebs, and Alisia surrounded D'narius on her bed. She looked to be peacefully sleeping, save for the bandages encasing her head above the eyes.

Another medical AI hologram flickered to life. As soon as the identities of the visitors were established, the AI gave them a summary update on D'narius. "The injury sustained by the patient involves the left temporal lobe and adjacent regions of the brain, an area critical for language processing, memory, and aspects of personality." Turning to gesture at D'narius, the hologram continued, "While the physical damage has been repaired, the brain is an intricate network, and the energy weapon's impact may have disrupted neural pathways in ways we cannot yet fully assess."

Dutch scratched his chin thoughtfully, wondering aloud, "What kind of long-term damage might she have sustained, and what are her chances for recovery?"

The hologram took on a lecturing tone as it responded, "Damage to this region can manifest in a variety of ways. The patient may experience difficulties with speech or comprehension, memory lapses, or even subtle shifts in personality, such as changes in emotional regulation, decision-making, or social behavior. These effects can range from mild to profound, depending on the extent of the neural disruption.

"As for recovery, the brain possesses remarkable plasticity, meaning it can adapt and rewire itself to some extent. However, the probability of a full recovery depends on several factors: the severity of the initial injury, the patient's age and overall health, and the effectiveness of rehabilitation efforts. While we remain cautiously optimistic, it is too early to predict the long-term outcome. The patient will require close monitoring and a tailored rehabilitation program to maximize their chances of regaining function and personality stability."

"Will she need to remain at this facility?" Dutch inquired of the AI, "Or can she receive care aboard our starship?"

The AI medical hologram flickered as it considered this question, before answering, "Whether the patient can return to life aboard a starship while undergoing rehabilitation will depend on several factors." The hologram began to pace slightly around the foot of D'narius' bed, "Starship life is inherently demanding—physically, emotionally, and cognitively. Given the potential effects of the injury, such as memory lapses, language difficulties, or changes in emotional regulation, it's crucial to evaluate the patient's ability to handle those challenges in a controlled and safe environment."

"We have a holographic medical system aboard our ship," Pheebs offered. "I believe it will be capable of meeting her needs adequately. Would it not be better for her to be around familiar faces and locations?"

"Familiar things - people and places - during the rehabilitation program can play a role," the holo-medic replied. "However, if the patient's therapy requires specialized facilities or consistent support from medical staff, continuing treatment planetside or at a station equipped for such care may be advisable. Alternately, if the patient shows sufficient progress and demonstrates resilience, a carefully managed return to the starship, perhaps in a limited capacity initially, could offer benefits - such as a sense of normalcy, purpose, and connection to her community."

"How soon will we know whether returning to the ship is a good option?" Dutch pressed.

The hologram flickered again momentarily before responding, "Ultimately, the decision will depend on the results of ongoing evaluations and the patient's response to treatment. As their medical team, we'll coordinate closely with you to ensure any transition back to starship life prioritizes safety and supports their recovery."

Dutch turned to Pheebs and Alisia. "I think we should probably decide whether one of us needs to remain here, or not. I know I need to have follow-up conversations with the Chancellor and the Fleet Admiral, as well as check in on Griffon and his team. Thoughts?"

Pheebs thought about it for a moment before she responded, "I need to check in with Prime and Senior Engineer Pennet to get a status update on the refit. I don't know yet whether or not my presence is needed in the shipyards, so I might be able to stay here."

Alisia frowned a bit, then shrugged. "I don't have any more urgent matters to attend to at this time, so I am the logical choice to remain."

Dutch nodded, then suggested, "I suggest we go find something to eat. Afterward, we can schedule our next steps and move forward smartly."

His companions nodded their agreement to this proposal. Consulting a digital concierge, Dutch left instructions that one of them be contacted the minute Jjan'tira or D'narius regained consciousness, and afterward, they set out to locate sustenance.

*****Cestus Shipyards, Early Evening, Day 61*****

Dutch paced restlessly in the workspace that Senior Engineer Pennet provided them the previous day. He'd already reached out to the Admiral, as well as to the Chancellor. In both cases, he'd spoken to assistants who assured him that his call would be returned shortly. Since then, he'd been waiting for more than an hour. He tried to reach out to Director Philson, but was informed the man was down on Rigellia for some important meeting.

Dutch speculated that all three of the people he'd been trying to reach were likely involved in the same meeting, which would explain why he'd been unable to reach any of them. He'd just about reached the limit of his patience when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Dutch called out, activating his PSG out of caution. The quiet shimmer assured him his protective shielding was in place as the door to the workspace swung open, revealing Commander Justine Doherty.

Doherty did not enter but instead beckoned Dutch with her hand. "Captain, if you would come with me, I've been sent by Admiral Bearing to bring you planetside to participate in the current high-level conversation she's attending with the Chancellor."

Deciding that he needed to trust in someone, Dutch bit back his questions and instead opted to follow the Commander right away. Whether this was a genuine invitation, or a trap, at least he'd be moving things along, he mused to himself. "Lead the way, Commander," he responded to the assistant, "I'll alert my XO to my change in location as we move."

Following Doherty at a quick pace, Dutch tapped his comm badge. "Pheebs, I've been asked to come planetside for a meeting with leadership. Keep an eye on things while I'm gone, please."

After the briefest of pauses, Pheebs responded, "Understood, Dutch. I'm just wrapping up here with Pennet. I'll head back to the hospital and check on the others. Keep in touch."

"Sounds good. Will do," he closed out the comm.

Ahead, Doherty was leading them to a travel tube, where a car was already awaiting them. They'd no sooner entered the car and taken seats than it sped away silently, the inertial dampeners working overtime as the conveyance sped through the lunar complex, depositing them moments later at the shuttle port.

Exiting the car, Doherty moved briskly to an available shuttle, different than any he'd seen before. This one bore the seal of the Fleet Admiral, and looked a bit heftier. As soon as they'd entered, Doherty moved forward to the flight deck, seating herself at the pilot's console.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she grinned at him, "Come on, then. Strap in here next to me. This is going to be a burner!"

Not quite sure what she'd meant by a 'burner', Dutch scrambled to get himself strapped into the seat next to her as she powered up the craft and immediately departed the port, speeding out into open space and accelerating quickly, arcing the craft up and rotating it into a curved path that quickly translated to a steep dive toward the planet below.

Dutch's attention was drawn to multiple places at the same time, each competing with the other. On the holoscreen in front of him, he could see their flight path, which was frighteningly steeper than the recommended path on the HUD. On the console in front of him, he could see multiple indications suddenly shifting colors to flash red. Beyond the HUD, he could see the telltale streaks of fire forming along the leading edge of the shuttle's shields as Doherty pushed multiple operational limitations to get them planetside as quickly as possible, short of negating survival.

Dutch risked a glance over at Doherty to find that she was grinning maniacally. He decided right there that he liked this woman. She was his kind of crazy.

Affecting a nonchalant air, he asked her casually, "So, how's your day been? The Admiral been keeping you busy?"

Doherty spared him a quick glance, then barked out a laugh. Responding in kind, she shrugged, "Oh, you know, same old routine. The boss can be a real slave driver."

The two of them shared a laugh as the shuttle began to level out, having completed the manic plunge to the surface and was speeding in the general direction of New Concordia, though Dutch noticed their flight path was still a bit erratic. He wondered idly whether Doherty was attempting to avoid surface-to-air or air-to-air fire.

As the city skyline approached, the surface of the planet sliding from day to night, Doherty suddenly dropped her shuttle to an extremely low altitude and changed course, heading slightly out to sea.

Reminding himself that he trusted her, Dutch was nevertheless concerned until he caught a glimpse of something looming ahead of them in the darkness, many minutes later. That something gradually grew and took shape as an island, hosting some sort of offshore compound. This, it seemed, was their true destination, although he now understood that Doherty tried her best to make her flight path appear to be terminating somewhere on the outskirts of New Concordia. Attempting to throw off potential adversaries, or just a standard precaution, all things considered? Dutch resolved to keep silent, hoping to get some answers soon.

Slowing their approach, Doherty brought the craft around in an arc, then slipped sideways past a wall to lower the shuttle to the ground within a secured compound. Red-tinted lighting illuminated the landing area, preserving the pilot's night vision. A pair of security guards stood by, awaiting them as Doherty shut down the shuttle and began to unstrap from her seat.

Following suit, Dutch trailed her as she made her way to the hatch, exiting the craft and striding past the waiting guards. Dutch continued to stick to her tail, following her as she rapidly crossed the open courtyard to enter a squat building that, he couldn't help but notice, did not appear to have any windows.

Inside the construct, he found they were in a long hallway that descended before them, leading them to an underground facility. A Bunker? Dutch wondered.

After several more meters, Doherty turned left and palmed a panel next to a sealed doorway. A quick pulse of light, and the doors slid open, permitting them entry into the large, dimly lit control room that lay just inside.

Dutch could see dozens of technicians manning consoles within the chamber. Doherty sped past them all, leading him to a small set of stairs at the far end of the chamber that led up to another door. Again, she palmed the panel, and a moment later they were entering a small, well-lit chamber with a large conference table hovering in the middle of the room, and several large holoscreens adorning the walls.

Dutch immediately recognized many of the people in the chamber from his first meeting so many weeks ago with Chancellor Opstrom and her cabinet. He saw Director Philson sitting near the Chancellor, along with Fleet Admiral Bearing. What truly astounded him was that Major General Baatran was also seated at the table. It was only after a moment that Dutch realized the man was bound in shackles, and wearing a plain jumpsuit instead of his uniform.

"Thank you, Commander. That is all," the Chancellor dismissed Doherty.

Turning to depart, the Commander gave Dutch a quick glance, rolled her eyes comedically, then winked, shooting him a final grin as she sped away, exiting the room.

"Captain, please join us," the Chancellor beckoned as she rose to greet him.

Dutch moved to approach an open seat close to the Chancellor and her new Adjutant.

"Captain Stoenager, I'd like you to meet my new chief of staff, Adjutant Glynda Tudor. Glynda is replacing Jonto," the Chancellor added awkwardly, not accustomed to dealing with such matters.

"Please, Adjutant Tudor, I go by Dutch," he offered the woman his hand, silently appraising her in the process. By his measure, he'd have placed her in her early thirties, confident bordering on overconfident, slim, her brown hair falling in ringlets past her shoulders, her brown eyes set just a bit too narrow for his preference.

Giving him a brief, tight smile, she accepted his proffered hand. "Ms. Tudor is fine, or Glynda if we're being informal."

Introductions seemingly over for the moment, Dutch took his seat and waited to be read in on the situation.

Which happened to be Ms. Tudor's next task. Striding up to the largest of the holoscreens, she began to catch him up. "As you are aware, at approximately eleven hundred hours local time yesterday, an attack was carried out at the Cestus Naval Shipyards, resulting in multiple casualties and minor damage to our newest starship." On the holoscreen, footage of an overhead view of the attack played out, showing the attack on the Chancellor, and on the command crew of the Aurora Dancer.

Dutch watched with trepidation as the holoscreen depicted the attack on his wives, as well as the other casualties. He gave little thought to his own actions, but was fascinated to observe the actions of Pheebs and Alisia as they both made impossible-looking leaps from the edge of the pier to the hull of the Dancer, closing impossibly fast on their pair of attackers. The swift violence with which they dispatched the two assailants was impressive and likely saved lives.

The massive explosion that took place next was staggering in its expanse. Dutch hadn't been aware of how truly fortunate he'd been to have survived, let alone those around him. That the Aurora Dancer was nearly unaffected by the blast was equally impressive. The crowd on the pier was all flattened by the concussion from the blast, and the ship itself rocked in its moorings.

"I must admit that I was already pretty familiar with this matter, Ms. Tudor," Dutch stated, hoping that this was not why they brought him all this way.

"Of course, Captain," the Adjutant demurred. "I'm just establishing the facts as we know them."

Turning back to the holoscreen, she gestured, and the image shifted to an interior hallway view outside an office door. Two dark-garbed figures can be seen cautiously approaching the door, but their facial features were obscured. Tudor continued her narration, "At the same time the attack was happening out pier side, a pair of intruders were caught on security vid breaking into the offices of the Master Shipwright. We deduced that they intended to make use of the confusion caused by the attack to gain entry to an otherwise secured workplace, though at first we weren't sure the reason behind that."

Speaking up from her seat at the table, Fleet Admiral Bearing added, "That's where Reginald comes in. Through him, we became aware of a reason that might explain the need to gain access to that office."

The old man cleared his throat, looking very uncomfortable, then muttered almost inaudibly, "They were likely searching for details regarding the Odyssey's Stealth capabilities."

"I shared those details with you," Dutch objected. "Why would a Rigellian need to steal that information?"

"Not for Rigellia," the old man stated flatly, looking morose.

"Not for Rigellia," Dutch repeated, considering the impact of those words. "So, for the Lyserions."

"It goes beyond that," Ms. Tudor interjected. "For the Lyserions to have access to this technology would be bad enough, given their militaristic posture. But the implications, given what we now know, are much worse."

"I'm sorry," Dutch rubbed at a pain behind his left eye. "My decoder ring was lost in the move - can someone please connect the dots for me?"

"The fucking Lyserions are in league with the Noraxi Syndicate!" the disgraced general spat, his face blazing beet red. "That is their leverage on me... on others throughout Rigellia. The Noraxi slavers take Rigellians, torture them, extract information from them..... do.... unspeakable things to them....." The man trailed off, tears welling from his eyes.

"How do the Lyserions fit into the picture?" Dutch puzzled.

"They made a deal," Chancellor Opstrom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "They sell weapons to the Noraxi... warships... and in exchange, the Noraxi are pushing at the iShan'tal. The Lyserions are hoping to get another shot at the iShan'tal - they've been constructing a secret fleet, preparing to go to war - pick up where we left off a century ago, with the Noraxi as their allies."

Dutch heard his knuckles crackle as his fists clenched. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and closed his mouth. He simply lacked the words for the feelings churning through him.

He met Opstrom's gaze, and they both understood one another at that moment.

"Did they get the data?" he finally asked, turning back to Tudor.

Picking up where she'd left off, Tudor continued the briefing. "The explosion seems to have been a premature event, which brought the intruders' actions to a halt. They'd not yet affected access to the targeted office before the general alarm was raised. Instead, they were forced to make a hasty retreat. Which brings us to a final matter." She gestured at the holoscreen, bringing up yet another visual of the docking port where all the shuttles were arrayed. "No craft departed the station in the aftermath of the attack, save for those involved with evacuation activities."

"So, the data thieves are still on Cestus," Dutch concluded.

"The data thieves are presumed to still be on Cestus," Tudor confirmed.

Dutch scrunched his eyes shut for a moment, thinking. "They could get the data from any of the Odyssey-class vessels," he stated.

"Additional security has been posted at each ship," Tudor confirmed.

"Go back to the footage in the hallway," Dutch urged her, his eyes snapping open.

"It is unrevealing," Tudor objected, complying anyway. "See? The intruders' faces are obscured - they must be carrying portable jammers for the security optics."

"Never mind that. Zoom in on the office window to their left - on their reflection," he pressed her urgently.

Using her hands to adjust the angle and zoom of the picture, she did as he asked. As soon as the picture was adjusted and the focus stabilized, the viewers in the room gave out a collective gasp.

Clearly visible in the reflection were two very familiar faces. The intruders appeared to be Pheebs and one of the clones. It was difficult to make out the hair highlights in the reflection, so they were unable to tell which one.

"That's not possible," Dutch growled, standing abruptly.

"Clearly," the Chancellor agreed, "as we are well aware of the whereabouts of your officers at the time this video was captured. Notice the clothing, however."

She saw something that the others overlooked. "The women in the picture are not wearing Odyssey uniforms, but rather Rigellian uniforms," she observed. "The Odyssey mission patch was clearly missing from the shoulders of their uniform. Instead, there was the Rigellian Defense Force patch."

Dutch felt foolish for having missed that detail. "Good eyes, Norda."

Tapping his comm badge, Dutch reached out to his ship. "Prime, are you there?"

There was no response. Tapping again, he repeated his hail. Still no response. Tapping a third time, he instead attempted to contact Pheebs. "Pheebs, you there?"

"Go for Pheebs," came her instant response.

"Pheebs, I need you to go check on the Odyssey. We have reason to suspect that the station has intruders masquerading as you and one of the clones, and I am unable to raise Prime. Be extra cautious, but be quick."

"On my way," she snapped, then the circuit closed.

"I need to get back to my ship," Dutch snapped.

"Captain, wait," Tudor asked him. "By the time you get there, events will have resolved, one way or the other. Give your exec time."

Dutch knew she was right. Knew it would be too late by the time he got there. But, he wasn't built for inaction. He began to pace the room, anxious to hear back from Pheebs.

A few long minutes later, his comm badge chirped. "Dutch here," he snapped.

"Captain, you're going to want to get up here," she began. "I managed to interrupt the intruders, but they were in the process of combing through our database."

"Secure them in the brig, and stay put," he tersely instructed her. "I'm on my way."

"We should do this more often," he snarked, gaze passing over the others. "But I really need to go."

Chancellor Opstrom nodded at Tudor, who grabbed a bag and made to follow Dutch, along with the Fleet Admiral.

Bearing turned back for a moment, "I'll contact you as soon as we understand the situation," she told the Chancellor.

Then they were all on the move, exiting the briefing room and heading toward the landing pad, while Bearing was contacting her aide.

*****Cestus Station, Late Evening, Day 61*****

If possible, Commander Doherty bent the laws of physics even more severely on the return trip to Cestus. The Fleet Admiral looked nonchalant during their ascent, but Adjutant Tudor appeared a little green around the gills as they exited the craft at Cestus Space Dock.

Dutch led the group toward slipway number twenty-two, where several members of the Rigellian Security Forces gathered, making preparations to board the Odyssey. Seeing Dutch approaching, they made to block his path, then reconsidered upon seeing the look on his face.

Ignoring them, Dutch tapped his comm badge as he boarded the vessel. "Pheebs, status report," he asked quietly.

His comm badge immediately chirped in response, "Captain, I have the intruders in the brig. I interrupted them as they were searching our data stores. Prime was offline, but I have initiated her restart, so she should be online and functioning within a few moments."

Pausing, Dutch turned to address the security forces. "I'm going to request that you remain here, dockside. My XO has the intruders secured in our brig for the moment. As soon as I ascertain what, if any, damage they have done to my vessel, I will turn them over to you."

The senior security officer immediately bristled. "That's not protocol, sir."

"And that," Dutch jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the ship behind him, "is not Rigellian territory."

"Stand down, Sergeant," Adjutant Tudor interposed herself between the men. "I'm inclined to agree with the Captain on this matter. Please have your squad stand by on the pier." Turning to face Dutch, she requested, "Captain, may I at least accompany you to assess the level of damage that the intruders may have done in the larger scope of things?"

"Just a moment," he responded, then tapped his comm badge. "Pheebs, why do we call the ship's computer 'Prime'?"

The response came back quickly. "Because it was too confusing referring to her as PHOEBI and me as Pheebs."

Turning back to Tudor, he indicated, "It should be fine. Admiral, did you want to tag along?"

"If you don't mind, I will, along with the Commander," Bearing responded, a look of grim determination on her face.

"Let's go, then," he quipped, leading the way aboard his ship. Dutch noted with interest that the hatches were all gone, replaced with the new doors that quietly slid into the bulkhead and closed automatically behind them.

When they arrived at the brig, Pheebs stood in the middle of the room, keeping close watch on the two individuals occupying separate cells. When she turned to observe Dutch and the others entering the brig, they saw odd-looking pieces of fabric hanging from her hands. Holding the items up, she explained, "Holo-masks, it seems."

Motioning Pheebs to come away from the cells, Dutch asked her in a low voice, "How bad?"

Pheebs pursed her lips, shaking her head. "They somehow managed to take Prime offline, meaning they were aware of her overrides. As for data exfiltration, they copied quite a bit to a mobile device, but lacked the opportunity to remove it from this area to transmit the data. The shipyards, having a large network of metal gantries and equipment, can wreak havoc on transmissions. Narrowband stuff, like voice, is unaffected, but broadband data transfer is next to impossible."

"Any damage to Prime?" he wanted to know.

"We'll need to run a complete diagnostic post-restart, but I don't think they did anything that would result in permanent damage," Pheebs hissed, glaring daggers at the prisoners.

Dutch eyed the masks, then moved over to the first cell. Peering inside, he saw a dejected-looking male, looking to be in his late twenties, perhaps one and three-quarters meters in height, no more than seventy kilograms, give or take, with dark curly hair, and ruddy skin. His left eye was swollen nearly shut, nose was clearly broken, and mouth was swollen. "What is your name?" Dutch growled, glaring death at the man.

"Ship off!" the man spat in response, glaring defiantly at Dutch.

Dutch glared back at the man for a long moment, considering his options. Finally, he shrugged and turned to give a meaningful look at Pheebs. Stepping over to the control panel on the side of the cell, Dutch brought up the environmental controls and entered new parameters. The air inlets immediately began hissing.

The surly prisoner looked around, unsure of what was happening, but looking concerned.

Turning his back on the first prisoner, Dutch calmly approached the second cell. A slender female sat dejectedly on the bunk, pretending to be disinterested in the goings on with her partner. One very red handprint on the left side of her face informed Dutch all that he needed to know about her take-down. Feigning disinterest in the cell behind him, he asked the woman in front of him, "Have you ever witnessed explosive decompression?"

A slight shake of her head was immediately concealed as she looked away, refusing to respond.

Dutch continued, "It's quite messy. The body tends to rupture, unexpectedly tearing open in new and different ways. The eyeballs sometimes pop out of their sockets, assuming they don't burst right away, and are left to dangle for a moment by the optic nerves, until the inside of the eye sockets themselves gives way and the brain squirts out through them. The ribs explode outward, allowing the lungs and internal organs to burst and spray in all directions. Your bowels eject forcefully through your asshole. It's very gruesome."

Casually pausing, he looked over his shoulder, then returned to observe the young woman. "If you watch carefully, you might be surprised at which parts of your partner explode first."

Stepping over to the control panel on her cell, he fiddled with the controls, then added casually, in a very disinterested fashion, "Of course, you won't really have much time to catalog your observations, because you'll get to share in the experience about a minute after he pops." The air ducts in her cell began to hiss.

Behind him, Adjutant Tudor cast a concerned glance at the Fleet Admiral, but Bearing appeared very unconcerned, so Tudor did her best to remain calm and let this drama play out.

Dutch feigned interest in the first prisoner's cell. "Seven atmospheres. Coming up on eight. Hey!" he tapped dully on the clearplaz. "Can you still hear me, or have your eardrums already burst?"

The man was doubling over, holding his hands against the sides of his head, panting hard, but doing his best not to scream. Suddenly, his knees buckled and he collapsed, writhing in pain.

"Ooohhh!" Dutch cried in mock surprise, "There go his eardrums.... not looking good."

Turning back to the woman, Dutch stepped casually up to the clearplaz. "You feel like answering my questions, or do you intend to pop like the proverbial weasel?"

The woman was still attempting to stare him down in defiance, but the man in the other cell was beginning to groan loudly with every attempted breath, giving vent to his growing agony. The woman's resolve buckled.

"Stop this! I'll answer your questions," she railed at him. "Just stop!"

Nodding to Pheebs, he tapped on the controls to the woman's cell, while Pheebs did similar to the other cell. The hissing stopped, but that was all that happened.

"You've both been pressurized to multiple times the normal atmospheric pressure," he explained. "If I so much as crack open a vent valve, or do anything to release the pressure too quickly, you'll be dead. But don't worry, I won't do that, I'll just lower the pressure a little too fast, and the bends will kill you slowly, painfully. Dissolved gases in your body will come out of saturation and form bubbles in your bloodstream and tissues, limiting blood flow. Blood vessels will eventually rupture. Air-filled cavities in your body, such as your lungs, sinuses, or ears, will burst as the air trapped within expands too quickly. As your blood flow becomes sufficiently restricted, your muscles will cramp due to oxygen starvation, crushing your bones and snapping your joints, and - at the end, after all the pain has been felt that there is to feel - your brain will asphyxiate. You'll eventually die, but only after feeling more pain than you can possibly imagine."

Pausing, he stepped closer to the cell, looking at her emotionlessly, as if observing an experiment. "Alternately, if I drop the pressure suddenly, you just explode. So, with that in mind, let's start simple. What is your name?"

Behind him, the man was no longer groaning, but was wailing, his voice already getting hoarse, as he writhed in agony on the deck of his cell.

The woman was shaking violently in fear, and stammered, "M-my n-n-name is-s D-don-nov-van... K-kep-pler."

"Donovan Kepler," Dutch repeated, nodding. "That's a great start. Now, Donovan, what were you doing aboard my ship?"

"D-d-dat-ta... th-th-thef-f-ft," she stuttered, her shaking becoming uncontrollable. "F-f-for the-the L-ly-lys-ser-rions!" she gasped, falling to her knees.

At the entrance to the brig, Tudor was quietly relating this new information to someone shoreside. Dutch assumed it was Chancellor Opstrom or the new Chief of Security. Admiral Bearing was likewise busy, likely communicating with security forces on Cestus.

"Donovan, look at me," Dutch barked. Waiting until he was sure he had her attention, he continued, "I'm not going to kill you... yet. But when you wake up, you will answer every question you are asked, truthfully, or I will toss your ass into the fucking sun, you get me?"

Nodding her head spasmodically, she fell over onto her side and began to writhe in pain.

Tapping once more on the controls, Dutch set the chamber to very slowly decompress, safely returning to woman to a more normal pressure. The entire process would take several hours, but she would begin to feel better in a short amount of time.

Behind him, Pheebs performed the same set of commands, and the male prisoner immediately stopped howling and went back to simply groaning as he began to feel relief.

Stepping away from the cells, Dutch returned to speak with the Fleet Admiral and Adjutant, "Okay, so at least we know they were unable to complete the data theft. That's a relief." he looked concerned, but not overly so. "If they'd gotten what they were after, I'd expect a full-scale attack on Rigellia would be imminent. Instead, we've probably bought ourselves a little bit of time."

Dutch's comm badge chirped, and when he tapped it, Prime's voice came through, "Captain, I am back online. I'm afraid I was shut down more than two hours ago by intruders who possessed my override codes."

"Prime, do you know how they were able to gain physical access to you in order to apply the codes?" Dutch queried, looking at the two prisoners.

"I can only tell you that the codes were delivered directly via an open interface located in the hangar bay," she replied.

"Prime, I want you to perform a comprehensive diagnostic. This is a priority, so task eighty percent of your resources to completing it as quickly as possible," Dutch commanded the AI.

"Acknowledged," the ship's computer responded. "The diagnostic will take approximately three point two hours."

Turning to Pheebs, he finally asked her, "Are you alright? I didn't see any sign of injuries, but..."

"I will be fine, Captain," she replied in a frustrated tone. "But I think we may be better off returning to space as soon as possible."

"Amen to that," he growled. Turning to the other ladies, he gestured, "If you'd like to follow me, I want to inspect the hangar bay. See if I can suss out how these two did what they did."

Dutch led the small group aft, stepping into the chamber to find the bay door wide open. An electrostatic field kept the inside of the bay pressurized, which was a new feature added during the upgrade. What was NOT part of the upgrade was the tiny craft squatting within the bay. It was an ugly little vehicle, not meant for working out in space, but a utility vehicle used throughout the shipyards.

Visually surveying the chamber, Dutch spied an open panel on the far bulkhead, and strode purposefully toward it. As soon as he reached the panel, he inspected the enclosure, looking for anything to describe its function or purpose. Eventually, he turned to Pheebs, one eyebrow raised, and stepped aside so that she could inspect it for herself.

Following a brief inspection, Pheebs turned to look at Dutch. "This panel provides maintenance access to the ship's sensors in the hangar bay. They've been manually disabled."

"Am I correct in assuming that, if done prior to the event, this would have rendered Prime blind to activities occurring within the bay?" Dutch surmised, looking decidedly unhappy at the implication.

"That would be a safe assumption, yes," Pheebs confirmed, picking up on where he was going.

"So, it's possible that someone - likely during the upgrade evolution - disabled Prime's sensors in this space," he stated the presumption out loud.

"Or that one, or both, of them are on the overhaul team," Commander Doherty interjected.

"There is that possibility," Dutch conceded, looking concerned at the prospect. Coming to a decision, he faced Pheebs. "I want you to coordinate expediting the completion of any remaining unfinished tasks on Odyssey. We need to be ready to put to space first thing tomorrow."

Turning to the Admiral and Adjutant Tudor, he continued, "The prisoners will be ready to transfer to your custody within a few hours, or I can finish interrogating them and space them on my way out - up to you."

"I suspect our new head of security will want to speak to them, so let's go with the former, shall we?" Admiral Bearing suggested.

"Your call, of course," he acceded gracefully. "I need to touch base next with Director Philson to see where his team is at with communications news. Ready or not, I need to get underway tomorrow, if I'm to have any chance of contacting Methos before we find ourselves in a shooting war."

"A shooting war? With whom?" Adjutant Tudor wanted to know.

"I don't have time to get you up to speed if you're a slow learner, Ms. Tudor," Dutch growled, "But assuming you're not being serious, I expect a full-scale assault very soon from the Noraxi, possibly with the cooperation of the Lyserions. They've been probing Rigellia for the past few weeks, ever since the Odyssey defeated their raiding party, and then their follow-up incursion. Add that to the accelerated activities on the part of your collaborators working with the Lyserions, and we're rapidly approaching a nexus of activities. Frankly, if I knew the timetable more exactly, I'd stage a Doolittle-style raid on the Noraxi AND Lyserion fleets just to make them reconsider their plans."

"A do little raid? What is that, exactly?" Tudor asked aloud, looking confused and flustered.

Doherty spoke up at this point, "Jimmy Doolittle. He's referencing a military raid conducted in the mid-twentieth century. Don't get pulled off track by his occasional anachronisms."

Dutch shot Doherty a look of surprised amusement, then turned back to Tudor and Bearing. "Seriously, though, I'd recommend getting the crews of your next few ships boarded and ready to deploy for a rapid shakedown within the next day - two at max - so they're not in space dock if the balloon goes up."

In response to more confused glances, Doherty reflexively translated, "He means if we get attacked."

Admiral Bearing grunted to herself, then nodded to Dutch. "I'd better go begin making preparations, then. We've got a fleet to finish, and the clock's rapidly approaching midnight." Turning to Doherty, she clasped a hand upon the other woman's shoulder. "I hope your backfill is up to speed, Justine. You picked a hell of a time to get all adventurous on me."

"I'm sure Beckins will do fine, Cathrice," Doherty assured the older woman, her eyes turning misty. "It's been an honor, but adventure and duty call."

The two Rigellian officers hugged briefly before the Admiral departed.

Adjutant Tudor appeared as confused by these interactions as Pheebs. The latter turned her gaze from Doherty to Dutch, one eyebrow arched in a silent question.

Before either could speak, Doherty cleared her throat. "Captain, with your permission, I'll escort Adjutant Tudor back pierside, then begin recalling the crew from liberty. Also, I'll notify Security that their prisoners won't be available for transfer for a few hours yet."

"Carry on, Commander," Dutch nodded, ignoring Pheebs for a moment.

"Time to go, Ms. Tudor. We've both got a lot to do," Doherty ushered the Adjutant from the space, hurrying to get on with her 'to-do' list.

No sooner were the two women beyond the automatic doors leading to the forward part of the ship than Pheebs turned to Dutch and punched him in the shoulder. "Alright, Mister Mysterious, out with it!"

Absently rubbing his shoulder, he grinned at his wife. "Okay - you might recall back before the attack at the christening ceremony I mentioned I had some news for the group. Well, simply put, a few of our trainees have volunteered to serve, at least on a temporary basis, as crew aboard the Odyssey. They shall retain their commission within the Rigellian Fleet, but be on temporary attached duty to the Odyssey as part of an 'Officer Exchange Program'. Cathrice said several of the trainees approached her with the idea as soon as we'd returned, and Doherty volunteered as soon as she heard about it."

"Do you know which trainees?" Pheebs asked, already guessing a few of the names.

"I do," he nodded, turning to head forward, "but we really have a lot to do to get ready to ship out tomorrow at 0800. I need for you to reach out to Senior Engineer Pennet ASAP to get tasks wrapped up so we're space-worthy, while I go check on the others at medical."

"Give me the goddamned names, Dutch!" she hissed in exasperation, not budging from where they'd been standing.

Pausing at the accessway, the automatic doors hanging open as he stood within their activation field, he turned to regard his wife. Sighing, he said, "I'm sure you could've guessed the first few. Jontalla Ironheart, for starters, along with Danielli Carpizzi. In addition to those, we've got Engela Torres and Doherty, of course..."

"Is that all?" she probed, sensing there was more....

Dutch sighed, then shrugged slightly and disclosed, "And Kaitin Shune."

"The fuck?" she demanded, startled by the last name.

"Apparently, upon her return to Rigellia, she cooperated fully, explained how she'd been manipulated into helping McKenzie, and that she'd not realized the depth of the betrayal. Communications logs backed her story - only McKenzie was communicating with Baatran. She thought that they'd been given some super-secret mission by the Major General - which was true, technically - and was unaware it was treachery to Rigellia," Dutch sighed before he continued. "She was a good officer, right up until she wasn't, and we could use the assistance, now even more with D'narius sidelined and Jjan'tira likely looking at a few weeks of light duty."

Pheebs looked skeptical, but kept her more serious concerns to herself. "Fine," she shook her head, putting her concerns aside, and began walking quickly in his direction. "I'll reach out to Pennet and push her to get us wrapped up. I'll also task the droids with prepping officer's quarters for the new crew. Anything else?"

Pausing to let her catch up to him, he reminded her, "Yeah. Stay frosty. People seem determined to fuck with us, and I really don't like that. And check the work that's been done thoroughly - we've got at least one big fight ahead of us, and shit needs to be tight when we get there."

Nodding, the two of them strode purposefully toward the bridge, doors silently opening and closing along the way. When they stepped onto the bridge, both pulled up short.

"This could be a problem," Pheebs muttered under her breath, gazing at the space.

She heard Dutch's knuckles crack as his hands bunched into fists. He took the sight in silently for a moment, then expelled a breath he'd been holding. Turning to fix her with a stare that assured her of his faith in her, he simply said, "You've got this. Get it done."

Giving her a quick kiss, he pivoted and headed for the shipyards, leaving Pheebs to look with concern at the entire forward bulkhead - or rather - the lack of the entire forward bulkhead. Tapping her comm badge, she got busy tracking down Pennet.

*****Cestus Shipyards, early morning, Day 63*****

The conversation with Philson was painful, in that the man seemed obsessed with describing in annoying detail the efforts his team undertook to complete their task of reverse-engineering the comm equipment that was seized during the raid on Major General Baatran's compound. In the end, he'd assured Dutch that a working trans-space communications unit was already installed on the Odyssey as part of her bridge upgrade. Design data for the new comm unit was added to their shipboard library so that they could share the technology with others.

Leaving Philson's office long after he'd wanted to, he'd received word from Pheebs that the bridge was being completed as they spoke, and the prisoners would be handed off to Rigellian Security within the hour. Dutch advised her to have droids wheel them to the boarding accessway via gurneys, rather than allow any more unknowns aboard their vessel.

Entering the hospital, Dutch consulted an information panel to get directions to where they were keeping Jjan'tira. Speeding to her room, he arrived to find Alisia curled up in a chair, alongside Jjan'tira's bed. No longer suspended in the regrowth fluid, Jjan'tira was resting comfortably in her bed, the upper half elevated so that she could attempt to eat a small meal. She was in the process of trying to feed herself at the direction of a holographic physical therapist when Dutch entered, and her surprise was evident in the immediate change in her expression, swiftly pivoting from concentration to happiness.

"Dutch!" she cried out joyfully, though at a low volume. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Striding around to the open side of her bed, he immediately embraced her in relief. "And I'm very glad to see you awake," he responded, giving her a kiss, then being dragged in for another.

"I'm still strong enough on my left side," she told him with a wink. "But the other arm feels wobbly and weak."

"Well, it's only a day or so old, so, yeah," he quipped, before hugging her again.

"How do you feel?" he asked her as soon as she loosened her grip on him.

"Ready to get the fuck out of here," she assured him. "Please tell me that's the plan."

"That's the plan," he deadpanned, then ducked as she took a swipe at his head.

Behind him, he heard Alisia let out a big yawn, then felt her grab his ass and squeeze. Turning, he beamed at her, "And good morning to you, too, my love."

Uncurling from her chair, Alisia stood and performed a quick series of stretches that threatened to distract him. Forcing himself to focus, he stepped back so he could address them both. "Collaborators attempted a data theft from aboard Odyssey, so we're making ready to ship out in the morning."

Turning to address Jjan'tira, "Assuming you feel well enough, I want you back in uniform, Lt. Commander, as I don't want to leave you behind. We make for Methos first thing in the morning."

Looking at Dutch with confusion, Jjan'tira repeated, "Lt. Commander?"

"Right," he nodded, brushing the moment aside. "You were scheduled to be promoted before you had the bad grace to get your arm shot off. Sorry, you missed the ceremony while you regrew your arm."

This time she was fast enough - barely - as she swiped her left hand through his hair.

"There's my girl!" he laughed. "Seriously, though, if you feel capable, get cleaned up and dressed. I need to check on D'narius to see if she'll be ready to join us."

As Dutch began to turn to leave the room, Alisia reached out a slender hand and gripped his upper arm with a surprising amount of strength. Stopped in his tracks, he looked first at her hand, then at his wife. She looked distraught, her eyes darkened and tearing.

Stepping outside into the hall with him, she drew close. "D'narius is not well, Dutch. Her brainwave patterns began exhibiting reduced levels of activity late last night."

Dutch tensed for a moment, then sagged as his strength left him briefly. He closed his eyes to process this information, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. Re-opening his eyes, he looked lovingly into Alisia's gaze and touched his forehead to hers, resting against her for a moment.

"Please get Jjan'tira ready to go back to the Odyssey. I'll go see about D'narius."

He hugged her fiercely, then gave her a quick kiss before rushing off in search of his other wife.

*****Cestus Medical Facilities, Pre-Dawn, Day 63*****

The information panel directed Dutch to the same care unit where he'd seen D'narius previously. She lay comatose in her bed, surrounded by doctors and medical technicians, all reviewing a large holographic rendering of her brain. Dutch could not help but observe a large area of her brain highlighted in red. The image showed occasional flickers of light, but they were few and far between.

Knocking on the door frame as he entered, he approached the elderly woman whom he'd come to know previously as the lead neural specialist. Doctor Mallory, her name badge read, turned to face him, her lips forming a thin line as she regarded his approach.

"Captain," she chided him, "it's hardly visitors' hours, now is it?"

"I'm sorry," he countered, "but I was under the impression that my wife's vital signs were failing, and I wished to be here in case you needed me to make some sort of decision."

"I'm failing to understand what sort of decision we might need from you," the doctor responded, appearing truly confused by his statement.

"As her next of kin," he shrugged, "You know, in case a decision needed to be made on something important, such as whether or not to take D'narius off of life support... that sort of decision."

"I see," she replied, though clearly she did not. "Well, your wife seems to be slipping away. The extent of her injuries is quite severe, and I don't believe we have any other options to pursue at this time," Doctor Mallory explained to him as if speaking to a child.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he decided immediately on the course of action he would undertake. The only question to resolve was how much these asshats would be able to assist him. "I understand," he intoned evenly, calmly, suppressing his frustration. "Do you have a portable stasis unit that I can place her in?"

"A stasis unit... whatever for?" the neurologist asked, aghast at the notion.

"Well, not to burden you with too much, but I will be departing this system shortly, and I intend to visit a few other civilizations in the next few days. Systems that are rumored to possess greater knowledge than we do, and who might be able to help her. And if not, then I will allow her to pass peacefully aboard our ship, surrounded by her family."

"Oh, that's really not something that I..." she began, only to be cut off.

"Doctor," Dutch ground his teeth, "I can easily escalate this matter to the highest authorities within your government if I must, or we can be civil and you can return my wife to my custody. If you do not have a stasis tube, I have several aboard my ship. Either way, she's coming with me."

The doctor looked for a moment as if she were going to force his hand, but one of the other specialists leaned in to whisper something to her. After a moment, she frowned and regarded him freshly. "We will put her into stasis here, and have her ready for transport shortly."

"That will be lovely," he smiled, showing a great many teeth. "I'll wait over here," he informed them as he moved to the chair against the wall, near D'narius' bedside.

Perhaps an hour later, Dutch was dozing lightly in the chair when a medical technician gently touched his shoulder, waking him softly. "Captain Stoenager, sir, your wife has been placed into stasis and is ready for transport."

Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dutch rose from the chair and looked over to where D'narius was still lying on the bed. An odd device was affixed to her upper left arm, and her skin, where visible, bore a waxy sheen.

Pointing to the device on her arm, he mused, "Not quite what I was expecting. Will that keep her in a state of suspended animation, or something similar?"

Shaking her head, the nurse scoffed at the question. "Nothing so primitive, no. This will maintain her vitals for an extended period of time, certainly long enough to allow you to transport her to another system, if I understood your intentions correctly. If I heard right, your ship has jump capabilities, so you'll make the trip in a short amount of time. Unlike a stasis tube, she'll be able to breathe, although only a few times per hour, as her entire metabolic system has been slowed to a crawl. She should not require nutritional sustenance for many days, but if your trip is overlong, she will need to be given nutrients and hydrated. Your ship's medical hologram should be capable of performing those procedures. As soon as you are ready, you can take her with you."

"Um, thank you, I think," he said, still clearing his head. "Errr, how do I take her, exactly?"

Smiling indulgently, the nurse stepped over to the bed and placed one hand on D'narius' shoulder, nudging her from the bed, until her form, now clad in a simple jumpsuit, was floating freely in the air. "Lev-suspenders," she explained as if it were obvious.

Shaking his head slightly at yet another new marvel, he stepped to his wife and took hold of her arm. It felt cool and clammy to his touch. He found that he was able to guide her easily, and the lev-suspension system rendered her nearly weightless, although she would quickly slow to a stop if he took his hand from her.

Once he'd gotten the hang of it, maneuvering D'narius was not very difficult. In short order, he navigated her outside the hospital and was loading her into a transport car in one of the tubes, when his comm badge chirped. Making sure D'narius was settled into the car, Dutch took a seat and tapped the controls indicating the landing closest to the slip where the Odyssey was moored, then acknowledged the comm request.

"Dutch, here," he vocalized, paying attention to his wife's floating body to ensure nothing untoward happened to it as they raced through the station.

"Pheebs here, Captain. Prime has completed her diagnostic and found all systems to be optimal. The prisoners have just been transferred to the Rigellian Security Forces. The shipyard has completed all upgrades, and the crew have all reported aboard, save for you and D'narius."

Sighing with relief, he tapped the badge. "Understood. I have D'narius with me, and the transport is about to deposit us pierside. We'll be aboard shortly. Begin the pre-launch checklist."

The instant the transport car came to a halt and the hatch opened, Dutch quickly guided D'narius out of the vehicle and up the ramp leading to the accessway to the Odyssey. Jjan'tira was waiting for them just inside the entrance to the quarterdeck. As soon as they boarded, Jjan'tira secured the accessway and turned to walk with Dutch as he guided D'narius' comatose form aft toward the medical bay.

As soon as the pair entered, Dutch was impressed. Pennet certainly lived up to her word, converting the tiny medical bay into something much larger. As on the Boundless Voyager, this medical bay possessed four permanent diagnostic beds, with an additional four beds folded into the wall, the surgical space, and office space behind the clearplaz bulkhead.

Guiding D'narius to the first diagnostic bed, Dutch made to place her onto the bed when the holographic medic materialized.

"Allow me to assist you, sir," the hologram offered, as it took control of the lev-suspension system, guided D'narius onto the bed, disabled the suspension field, and then secured her to the bed with a restraining field. The moment her form made contact with the bed's surface, the holo-viewer above her head came to life, rotating through a range of views as it immediately assessed the condition of the occupant.

The holo-medic appeared to be looking over his patient, holding something intended to convey the presence of a medical scanner in its hand. "Hmmm," it vocalized, in an imitation of every doctor in Dutch's experience. "The patient is in stasis but appears to have suffered a severe head trauma. Damage to her neurological system is extreme. The prognosis is unfavorable, I'm afraid."

"Understood," Dutch acceded. "You are to monitor her condition and notify me immediately should her stasis begin to degrade. Otherwise, she will remain in her present condition, pending further notice."

"Understood," the holo-medic responded, then disappeared.

Taking one last look at D'narius, Dutch leaned forward to kiss her brow, then turned and departed Medical, Alisia on his heels.

Stepping onto the bridge, Dutch was pleased to see the forward bulkhead had been replaced with the deck-to-overhead clear plazsteel panel, providing the bridge with an amazing view of the area directly ahead of the ship.

On a molecular level, the plazsteel was as durable as the rest of the ship's hull, with the added benefit of being transparent. In addition, it was a smart surface, meaning that holographic overlays could be displayed within it on demand, useful for projecting tactical data, communications, or just about anything else the crew might desire.

The stations were all operational, and from the looks of it, the crew picked up quickly on their configuration. Ensign Shune was at the NAV station, her dark wavy hair falling loosely about her shoulders, and he was struck by her pale blue eyes when she turned and met Dutch's gaze with a confidant look, neither smiling nor frowning, but attempting to convey determination. He considered her for a moment, taking into account her actions before the incident, and heard his own words echoing that everyone deserved a second chance. He would give Shune a fair opportunity to make good on her promises and redeem herself.

To Shune's right, Commander Doherty sat at the HELM station, busily running her systems through complete diagnostics in preparation for departure from the shipyard. Dutch admired Doherty's grit, giving up being the Fleet Admiral's aide in order to pitch in - even if only temporarily - with his crew. Plus, he admitted to himself, she was easy on the eyes. Older than the training crew by several years, she brought a level of confidence that he enjoyed from Pheebs and Alisia, and he was eager to see how she adapted to life aboard the Odyssey. She'd kept herself in peak physical condition, standing at almost 180 centimeters in height, weighing in the neighborhood of 65-70 kilograms, her bust and hips impressively balanced in the vicinity of 110 centimeters, slim waist at 70 centimeters, with her long honey-blond hair gathered behind her with what appeared to be Celtic hair fasteners of some sort. Her hazel eyes glanced over at Dutch as if she sensed him appraising her, and crinkled with a warm smile before she turned back to her work.

Pheebs sat in the command chair, running through her list of departure pre-checks, her voice sharp and precise as she calmly gave orders to the crew. Looking up for a moment, she met his gaze with her lovely golden eyes and smiled briefly, before returning to her task.

Behind her at OPS was Danielli Carpizzi, configuring the control surfaces at her station to her preferences, and running through a quick check of the ship's stores, making sure that everything was topped off before their departure. Her wavy dark hair showed some golden highlights in it today, bringing out the gold tinge in her brown eyes. As if sensing someone observing her, she glanced up at Dutch and flashed him a smile, her dimple prominent in her left cheek, then turned to continue her work. Dutch nodded to himself, approving of the fit of her uniform. One of the shorter women in his crew, Danielli stood a mere 165 centimeters tall, with her body nicely proportionate to her stature.

Past Carpizzi, Dutch observed Engela Torres lying on the deck beneath her station, a panel open as she performed some maintenance tasks out of sight within the console itself. The young woman possessed features Dutch would have associated with an Asian woman from Earth; long, straight hair that was jet black and silky, epicanthic folds above her very dark eyes, an almost elfin grin on her slender face, and a very petit build for a woman of 170 centimeters in height.

Next to Torres was Jontalla Ironheart, her form a vision of a native tribal princess from his home world. She stood tall at 175 centimeters, her hair similar to Torres', but longer, nearly reaching her waist. Unlike Torres, Ironheart brought more curves, her bust easily hitting 105-110 centimeters, her hips their equal, and her waist probably a trim 70 centimeters. Another difference was in her eyes - Jontalla, like Doherty, possessed a set of hazel eyes that seemed to shift in color with her disposition.

Dutch's observations were interrupted by Lt. Torres standing up from beneath her console to inform Pheebs that the new comms array had been properly recalibrated and was ready for continued testing.

Pheebs acknowledged the information with a brief nod, and asked Torres to resume testing.

Just then, the ship's bell tolled eight times. It was 0800, and Dutch was ready for his ship to get underway. Moving to stand at the front of the bridge, in the walkway that now existed between the forward-most watch stations and the large bridge window, Dutch cleared his throat to address his crew.

"I'd like to begin by thanking our Rigellian crew members who've volunteered to join the Odyssey on her continuing mission. When we depart Cestus shipyards this morning, we will make our way to the outer part of this system at a leisurely pace, allowing for two things.

"First, we want the next three Odyssey-class starships to be launched and undergoing their own shakedowns while we are still nearby, in the event they require some form of assistance.

"And second, we want to thoroughly test the new systems that were so recently installed by the good folks at the shipyard.

"As you are all well aware, events transpired there that suggest a larger conspiracy is afoot, and it behooves us all to be vigilant and wary in testing these new systems, to be certain nothing untoward was included in our upgrades.

"Once we have completed our testing, and seen our sister ships launched, we will be setting course for the Horsemen System. Our next stop will be the planet Methos. This will begin as a Stealth Mission, until we can assess the disposition of our kinsmen on Methos, and we will approach it similarly to our excursion to the Sol System, under full EMCON.

"XO, please make ready to depart," Dutch wrapped up his speech. "I'll be in my quarters."

Turning, he indicated to Alisia that she should follow him, and together they departed the bridge.

*****

Jjan'tila was in their quarters examining her new arm when they arrived. The door, keyed to their biometrics, opened automatically at their approach and closed silently behind them after they entered the room.

Looking up from where she sat, she smiled when she saw them and rose to meet them, her eyes damp with tears.

Dutch and Alisia wrapped the younger woman in a tight embrace, with Dutch reassuring her that everything would be alright. Together, they all moved over to sit in the lounge area, all three huddled together on the long couch.

"It's all so strange," Jjan'tira explained once she'd calmed down. "I feel a constant tingling in my arm, like the buzzing of thousands of little insects. It doesn't hurt, but I'm worried that it might persist forever."

Alisia leaned in to stroke her cheek, brushing a tear away. "The doctors told us that your nerves were all new, and that such sensations would be part of your body's process as it acclimates to your new limb. The feeling will begin to fade soon enough."

"You're going to need to adhere to a pretty strict therapy regimen," Dutch advised her. "The doctors provided us with holos of the exercises that you need to perform, as well as the schedule."

"Knowing you, you're going to want to hit it hard," Alisia added. "Don't. Just take it according to the schedule. Even if you think you can push yourself harder, you have to resist the urge, or you risk injuring yourself, which will increase the overall time it takes for you to recover."

"Listen to your sister-wife, dear," Dutch soothed Jjan'tira, seeing the emotions crossing her face. "I know you - you are strong, and smart, and competitive as a fury. But I need you whole and hale, the sooner the better. But in this case, as in many, slow is smooth, and smooth is fast, so take it slow!"

The three of them sat quietly for a few moments, before Jjan'tira asked, "What of D'narius?"

Dutch frowned slightly before he could stop himself, then reminded himself to be honest with his women. "D'narius is in bad shape. Her life signs were failing early this morning, so I requested the doctors put her in stasis. She's in our medical center now - which looks amazing, by the way - and I'm holding out hope that the doctors on Methos are more advanced, and may be better able to help her. But I won't lie - it's a slim hope at best."

"So, without a miracle, we may lose her?" Jjan'tira wanted to know.

"It's a miracle we didn't lose her already, dear," Dutch reminded her. "But she's a fighter. She won't give up, and neither will we. And, if we can't do more to help her, then we'll see her off properly, until we all meet again in the great beyond."

"The Great what, now?" Alisia beat Jjan'tira to the question.

"You know, whatever awaits us next, after we pass," he confided. "Humans have so many theories about the afterlife - I simply refer to it as the Great Beyond. I kinda think of it as the next adventure."

"That's nice, I suppose," Alisia admitted with a slight shrug. "The iShan'tal don't seem to harbor such beliefs, or not such that they ever cared to share with their cloned army. We were simply informed that we lived to serve them, until we lived no more."

"Religions and assholes," Dutch grunted.

"Come again?" Alisia pressed him, uncertain she'd heard correctly.

"It's an old Earth saying," he elaborated. "Basically, religions are like assholes - everyone has one, and they're all full of shit."

Both women arched their eyebrows at this information, smiling slightly at the silliness.

"Well, I for one would rather be filled with dick," Jjan'tira proclaimed saucily. "After all, I'm pretty sure you owe me a good and proper fucking as a reward for my promotion!"

"Is that so?" Dutch asked incredulously.

"That's how we did it on my old ship," Jjan'tira insisted, with Alisia nodding in agreement.

Much to Dutch's irritation, things were interrupted just as the conversation was beginning to get interesting by the chirp of his comm badge. Tapping it, he replied, "Go for the D-man."

"The D-man, is it?" he heard Pheebs chuckle. "Well, D-man, I wanted to inform you that the Aurora Dancer, Majestic Horizon, and Noble Serenity have joined us in space, and we've been given the go-ahead by Fleet Admiral Bearing, with the Chancellor's wishes of 'Good Luck' on our mission."

"Very well, Pheebs," Dutch acknowledged. "Secure to skeleton watches, and I'll relieve you in a few hours."

"Nonsense," Jjan'tira objected. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, both of you, and I've gotten plenty of rest and don't actually need both arms to command the ship."

"Fine," he sighed. "Prime, I want you to generate a four-on, eight-off watch rotation, based on three watches - OOD, HELM, and NAV. Once you've got the rotation generated, run it past Pheebs for her approval or input, and post it."

"Acknowledged, Captain," the ship's AI responded. "I'll have it ready in two shakes."

As the comm channel went dead, Alisia and Jjan'tira both giggled. "Two shakes?" they asked in unison.

"Never mind," he dismissed them, amused at his AI's embrace of old Earth euphemisms. Tapping his comm badge again, "Pheebs, Prime is working up a watch bill for your approval. In the meantime, set course to take us beyond Rinor before we jump, standard sublight, and note in the log that we need to set Stealth conditions before jumping to the Horsehead System."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she answered before the comms went quiet once more.

"Now," Dutch circled back to his wives, "Where were we? Oh, yes! You were explaining your celebrations following promotions."

*****