Star Trek: Starbase 777

Located deep inside the forest, their camp was perfectly concealed between large trees and prickly, harsh bushes - the latter creating an almost tunnel that everyone had to go through to get inside. There were numerous tents and temporary buildings, and there were people - clad in concealing uniforms, some of them masked. Like an ant's nest, the place was buzzing with activity, working like a well-oiled mechanism - which came to a brief, quiet halt, when the party had arrived. "... Now that's a big catch, huh?" one of the masked individuals pondered, their voice changed behind the filter. "Ey Stitches, go take a look at this!"

6

In his mind, 'let us know if there is an emergency or you need medical assistance' meant to keep quiet still otherwise, so... that's exactly what he did as he walked in there with the rest of the group, sticking near Eshen and Dezyim for the time being. Being called a 'catch' reallly tempted him to make some sort of joke, but. He resisted. Because, well, this was the Tal Shiar and like, fuck those guys. In the least literal way.

Yeah, he also thought of that joke. He sent a little smirk Allan's way, like he was trying to send it to him telepathically. He'd get it. They were just in sync like that.

6

From one of the tents emerged another tall, imposing figure — nearly reaching Ev'kor in height, broad-shouldered and clearly on the older side for a Vulcanoid, 'Stitches' surveyed the group with an air of ... honestly, vague disinterest. "Far from your nest, aren't you?" said in that same bored tone. "Are any of them injured? I'd hate to waste precious resources, but if I must.."

He stayed quiet as well, absolutely despising being called a catch, but... he did have his observation hat on. So he was doing his best to look around and memorise as much as he could.

His eyes flit back and forth at an almost supernatural speed as he took in everything about the camp that he could see. The offer for medical assistance.. that had to be a way to get their guard down. The Tal Shiar wasn’t interested in hospitality. He took in the camp in its entirety- how it moved like a well-planned, well-oiled machine. Escaping this would be hard. But, he was Resistance, and that meant he was one crafty, slippery son of a bitch (literally, his creator was certainly a bitch). This wouldn’t be the death of him, not yet. His look was cold, there was definitely something sharp and downright mean behind them. But, he hated being called a catch, and he had to grind his teeth together in order to keep from saying anything.

“Nobody’s injured, pal,” Kiadras said with a slight hiss, though a grin remained on her face, “No need to worry.”

"Since when do Tal Shiar wear masks?" Ev'kor murmured to Vovvi, taking in the camp. "Yeah, we're all alright," he spoke up louder, keeping his expression as blank as possible to continue passing for a Vulcan for as long as he could.

"If they are, they didn't say so," she replied, coming closer to the new face and gently squeezling their forearms. "And none of us are. Glad to see you too, you grouch."

He followed suit, gently bopping his shoulder against the doctor's as he passed them by, Agna's unconscious body still in his hands. He was heading for one of the temporary houses.

Raatar continued to walk in the single file line they were kept in. His golden eyes surveyed the area. If the medic was worried about supplies then that was at least slightly reassuring. Maybe they were low on toxins or any sort of medical torture devices. At least that was the hope. Raatar began to count the number of buildings, and the number of noticeable people around. He was trying to keep his mind busy. He didn't want his body to catch up to any fear he was trying to shove down. Fear was the mind killer.

"They don't, as far as I remember," Vovvi said quietly, her hand on Ev'kor's elbow. Just a little reciprocity.. "Keep an eye on your exits. Remember the path."

"I know," Ev'kor told Vovvi, though he didn't elaborate on what or why or how he knew. He was supposed to be a junior lieutenant doctor, after all, what could he possibly know? He'd not tell. Instead, he stuck close to her, making sure to keep as many people in his sights as possible.

He remained relatively calm. Few things could set him off; he could thank those Vulcan techniques. Breathing was an important one. His was slow. "You alright?" He said to the person whose hands had been shaking.

The casual greeting was not met with more than a reciprocating nudge from Stitches, though they gave no protest, their gaze briefly following after the masked one as he headed off. "Are we splitting them into groups, or are they staying together?"

"Yeah, you okay?" Allan asked, given the note that they were allowed to at least put their hands down, probably, and talk a little bit - so he put one hand on Dezyim's shoulder and the other hand in one of Eshen's, staying close to them both so at least if they went into groups, they'd keep them together, maybe.

Vara'l remained silent within the group. He just watched the others in the group and their captors. Watched them and continued to note weapons and their dispositions within the clearing. No opening had presented itself yet but well, he wanted to know when one ended up available. So he looked around, watched the officers and watched their captors. While he'd have sharply glanced at Kiadras if their comment had been uttered more sharply, given the situation they happened to be in, he instead occupied himself with continued observation of their surroundings. As he watched their surroundings. A repetition of what Vovi had stated wasn't needed at present. She'd hit the nail on the proverbial head when she'd stated what she'd stated. What could he have added?

Dezyim watched as he carried Agna's body away. He gulped, and turned to Eshen, jumping a little as Allan put his hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'll be fine... thank you both," his voice was soft, and he kept his eyes fixed on the temporary houses. "What do you think they'll do to her...?"

3

Dakom allowed his own presence to brush against Mudd's once more; not prying, only there as reassurance... for whatever that was worth, right now. He made note of this Stitches individual. He made note of all that he could, truly, but the pin was put on who he assumed to be their doctor. Dakom was under no delusions of them being any safer than the rest. It was still potentially useful.

"Treat her. They seem to have reason enough to keep us alive for now." He squeezed Allan's hand, and gave Dezyim a reassuring smile.

3

"Two groups. One is too much for the size of the place," she decided, releasing them and standing by their side, overlooking the ragtag team of definitely-absolutely-civilians. "They will be questioned separately. I will go to Agna first because... you know. In the meantime, make sure their claims of being okay are genuine."

"Aw fuck, does that mean a dozen more portions?! I hate the cooking duty man," someone whined by the kitchen tent, earning a lighthearted smack on the shoulder and a ripple of laughter.

10

“Oh, I appreciate the concern,” The Trill said with faux sweetness at the commander. He eyed this…grouchy individual. He could take ‘em. Probably break their nose. Wouldn’t be the first time. (edited)

"Very well." Stitches held out one of their medical tools, dividing the group evenly in half with their gaze. "They don't look like anything we can't handle. I'll keep you posted." Violet eyes slid across the group, landing on the shaking cadet. "Nothing will happen that she doesn't deserve. This I can promise you." (edited)

He nodded to what Eshen said, subconsciously squeezing Dezyim's shoulder a little at the same time as Eshen squeezed his hand, before letting go of the cadet, looking around them. The masks were notable, but he tried to see if any of the uniforms they were wearing had any sorts of ranks or similar aspects to the ones worn by the two that'd brought them in here.

Something about that statement chilled Zhi'rev to the core. His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought of ways he could break out of their current situation.

"Reassuring," Ev'kor mumbled cynically.

“Lovely bedside manner, Doc,” She added on to Ev’kor’s statement, “I’m sure that really warmed up the cadet, gotta say.”

Mudd was very much not having a good time, this reminded him to much of his time as a pow and it was awful. But at the same time he tried to get a grasp of himself and control his fear to make it through this, he looked around for any other escape routes and such.

Raatar knew some of the old techniques his mother used. He began to form a plan. Focus on silence. Don't give them anything. Don't say anything. They will hurt you to get you to say something. Don't say something. Become the focus of their ire. Save your comrades some of their energy and ability to think. Let them come up with a plan. Endure the pain. Survive. He knew this was going to be one hell of a time. Kahless give him strength. He began to take long deep breaths. Trying to slow his heart rate and conserve his energy.

Some of the uniforms were Tal Shiar - with a wide variety of ranks attached to them. The other ones were also dark, but with concealing patterning and less pompously militant, more outdoors-in-any-weather-and-condition utilitarian. Some wore hoods, and the masks carried a filter, similarly to a gas mask.

3

4

Mask-filter- like a gas mask. That could not mean anything good. He would not put it past the Tal Shiar to use poison gas, not at all, but still… a sick thought. He wasn’t concerned for himself, he didn’t need air, but he worried for his biological comrades. It was times like this where he missed his cell- he didn’t know any of these people, how would he knew how they thought, how they’d fight, what they’d do? It made escape harder. He wondered what type would be in use- some kind of tear gas for security? A blister agent? Nerve gas? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

He announced his comeback with a gentle tug on their sleeves, looking at his leader and their medic for a moment, before signing something.

Vara'l's concern related to the situation peaked yet to yet higher levels from 'ah' to.. 'Oh' as he noted a number of the things noticeable about the masks himself. Noted that and idly wondered also, if the people here happened to have in their possession airborne agents for utilization in the defence of the facility or if there happened to be other reasons why the guards and the like needed the headwear they currently had. None of the potential reasons for why they happened to have such equipment with them filled him with joy.

A quick scan showed them that none of the group was injured at present. Perfect— oh, attention needed? Stitches barely inclined their head, then nodded, patting the Enarrain's shoulder to convey message received. "Thank you. I think she'll be able to handle her," they said, turning back to the group. "As for you." They gestured to the right half of the group— Raatar, Dezyim, Allan, Eshen, "Sivath", Havra, Vara'l, Eicran, and whoever else who would be unfortunate enough to be assigned to their group when their players dropped in later— "you'll be coming with me." Not that they had much of a choice. They were Politely escorted to #cell-two .

"Take care," she whispered to both of them, her gaze briefly holding the Lieutenant's for a moment or two longer, before she ventured into the building that currently held Anga.

He slowly blinked at her before separating. Turning his attention to the remaining bunch, he gestured them towards himself with two fingers, and then lead them towards #cell-one. Which... less of a cell, more of a tiny house with bunkbeds?

While she waited for Stitches and Boar, she took a spot by the medical tent. Dressed in her normal uniform and done with Anga's interrogation, Vigil felt... weirdly light. The dark patterning was comforting. And the face-off against the woman who almost ended her life all those years ago, but this time with security and confidence on Emni's side, ended in discovery of some very useful information. She shook her head, forcing those thoughts away. Instead, her attention refocused on her friends, whom she greeted with a small smile: "Hey. What did you learn?"

6

"They're claiming to be Federation," Stitches answered almost immediately, frustration evident in their still-pinched expression. "I was given names, ranks, divisions. They don't know anything about her, or who she is."

"I was given the same, in exchange for my own identity - risky, I know," he gently squeezed Emni's shoulder when she opened her mouth, "But they wanted transparency, and as soon as they learned that we are not the enemy, they became much more talkative. We have a Khellian here, who claims to be part of the Reman resistance - something easily checked by Cephalon." Surrounded by familiar faces, he felt the lump in his throat recede. So he continued on: "They all say that they came here to investigate the outpost claims. And, yes, they also thought that we are Tal Shiar."

"...Federation, huh. So the weapons might be real," she mused, typing something on a PADD-like device. Perhaps following what Temar said. "If they are telling the truth... this means that Republic had a sabotage, and we need to let them know. As for our guests - have they said anything about what they want to do next? We can safely escort them back to their vessel, at any moment."

Selae sucked in a breath through their teeth, visibly concerned by Temar's tradeoff; at what cost? They said nothing, however.. Trust meant a lot in their line of work. They could trust him, and hopefully these officers, too. "They expressed interest in completing their mission, but I didn't hear much beyond that. My group was very talkative. So much so, they would have gotten themselves killed if it were anyone else."

"Anga was adamant they are also Tal Shiar, at first," she said quietly, lifting her gaze up at her companions. Cephalon worked fast, but not instantly. "Tried to argue with me even after I showed her the weapons. Aggressively, because the girl still cannot act for shit. Like she tried to drag them down with her..."

Selae clicked their tongue. "Drowning and trying to pull them under the surface. Typical..." So they really are Federation, then? Oh, and— "One of them is a Lareth. I could see a bit of resemblance. Not one of the kids we know, I believe." (edited)

Both of their faces changed at the mention of a familiar House name. Temar cleared his throat, before continuing tentatively: "Should we send a message to..?"

"Wait, Cephalon replied," she looked down at her device, brown eyes quickly going over the text. "Okay, we... do have a match. The weapons are original. The stories are matching up, and none of them have tampered DNA or masking. With all of the background context... it is shaping up to be a true story."

Stitches smiled — really smiled, lopsided, pulling up in the direction of the scar on their face. "If it means there are more out there, I'm sure they'll all be happy to hear it." AHEM. Back to important mission mode. "We should let them reconvene and make a decision from there, then?"

2

She nodded then, a small smile of her own appearing on her lips: "Yes, good idea. Let's have them back in one group, and go from there."

"Very well." Time to free the jailbirds!

Freeeeedom! Vovvi stretched her arms up over her head, grateful to be back in the fresh air. Not that it was bad in there, of course.

Vigil was there to meet them, looking over the gathered away team again - but without the previous coldness. This time, it was cautious interest.

Now that he was able to leave, Zhi'rev did so, his eyes wide as he looked around the camp again. Really, he was just glad that the away team had been able to reconvene.

With her hands in her coat pockets, the instructor followed Vovvi out into the camp and gave a nod toward the others as they arrived, a small smile on her face. She glanced to Vovvi and let out a hum, “Long haul?”

"Long haul." Vovvi waved at the other group, moving to stand somewhere near Vigil, so they could all meet in the middle.

Raatar came soon after and quickly joined the group. He looked and made sure everyone was alright which was comforting. He settled a bit closer to the front so he could see before he waited for what came next. (edited)

Tavek was enjoying the fresh air on his face, he had been a little bit antsy being cooped up with so many people in there. He hoped they’d be going on and helping get rid of these Tal Shiar- after all, there was nothing in this galaxy he hated more.

“Long time no see, everybody,” The Trill greeted the other group with a smile, “So. On our end, we’re on the same page. Sticking it out, helping this group root out the base. How are you all feeling?” In the hypothetical where they didn’t find consensus, he wasn’t too sure what route they’d go down. He’d learnt in his years that splitting the party was never tactically sound.

Upon leaving the cell and joining the group, Dezyim replaced his glasses on his face. Remembering that they would soon be facing the Tal Shiar, he returned to the sober attitude he had held at the beginning of the mission. His mouth tightened, and he decided to let the real officers discuss while he stayed back.

He gave a nod to Kiadras. "Yup, same thing! So, seems like all of our pages are together." He said with a smile before looking back toward the rest of the group.

She moved to stand there amongst the rest of them, lightly stretching. “Glad to see we’re all in one piece.”

Such a large body moved surprisingly quietly when he wanted. Boar took his place by Vigil's side.

In turn, she gave him a gentle nod and a smile.

Vovvi took in a breath. "It looks like we would like to help," she agreed, nodding along — and, seeing no objections, carried on. "In any way you'll allow us, that is."

She looked at Vovvi, then: "It does seem to be the choice of your majority. Though, if anyone objects, we can help them get back to the vessel and leave." She looked to the side, thoughtful, before continuing: "As for the help - we did have a plan on how to proceed. But I am not quite sure how to incorporate you people into it - as in, how safe for you it would be. We appreciate the offer, but we don't want to risk endangering you."

“Respectfully, we are fine with danger.” She said with a polite nod. “I understand if our numbers throw a wrench into your plan but we are more than willing to assist tactically in any way you require.”

"We're officers," Ev'kor pointed out. "We're trained," some more so than others on this specific scenario, "and we knew what we were getting into when we came here, even if the plan has changed a bit."

"We did sign up for a mission involving the defeat of the Tal Shiar, and that has not changed, if they are out there, then I at least am willing to risk myself to see the mission through," He reported, voice sincere and even.

"As nice as it would be to be a whole defeat, this is a network that spans across galaxies." Stitches, having finished delivering the dishes back to the kitchen, stepped in. "This is a momentary victory. An uphill battle. We do what we can, and one day, with luck, this infestation will be eradicated."

"I think they're officers, Em," he whispered close to her ear, earning a light-hearted poke to his side. (edited)

"Never said you aren't," she shook her head. "However, we work differently. I am fearing that miscommunication, and this difference, can be the killers. So we need to plan this well."

"What would be the best way to handle this, in your eyes?" They could work together on this much, she thought.

"We could talk through the initial plan and go from there?" it wasn't really a reply, but Emni had to find a way to handle these additional dozen of people... somehow. Help was valuable. Any additional person was important. But she was taught to be careful - both by the seniors of the cell, and her own experience. "I will tell you right off the bat that we were planning to target their storerooms - because the primary function of this outpost is that. Acquiring goods, and shipping them off in bulk to their ships."

Kya nodded as she listened. “Smart.” She said, before letting them continue.

"Take their supplies, diminish their resources as much as we can," Vovvi nodded along. "We could split into smaller groups, if that is what you would prefer. Divide and conquer, as the saying goes."

"In a perfect world, we would remain undetected, and the Fleet's moral qualms would not get in the way of anything," Stitches unhelpfully tagged on, "but, well. In a perfect world, we would not find ourselves here."

2

"You might've heard already that they have a protective grid around the area. While we do have people on the inside there, we cannot rely on them for disabling it - their task is to make sure no one tries to stop us from finding our way in," she continued. "Preferably as discreetly as possible. Only then we can proceed with the sabotage of their storerooms. Which includes a lot of explosives."

“While in most circumstances I would be more than fine with the killing of fascists, but yes, regulations dictate we can’t kill.” She said simply in response to Sitches. “I trust you have people trained with explosives? As I wouldn’t think many of us would have that training.” She said, of course not referring to herself, Kiadras and the two resistance more-then-friends.

He merely lifted his hand.

“Ah! Lovely.” She said with a smile and a nod towards Boar. “That’s my question answered.”

Tavek did have that training with explosives, but he wasn’t about to say he had spent his first two years of life making and planting bombs alongside his first resistance cell, so he stayed quiet. He was, however, kind of sad he couldn’t help with the explosives while still keeping his cover as someone who was definitely not in a resistance cell doing things Starfleet didn’t approve of. Maybe, he hoped, that opportunity would still come to him, but he was happy to just be a part of this operation. He couldn’t complain much, since this might be his only opportunity to kick Tal Shiar ass for a long time.

Plotting it out in her head, Vovvi tentatively nodded. "So we need a way in. A cover, or some way around their detection? You said you have people waiting inside, so..."

"Correct," Vigil smiled. "And, as I said, it should be as discreet as possible. We could disable their grid in a heartbeat, but that would put the whole outpost in immediate high alert. Covers are something we excel in - as you might have noticed during our first meeting."

Kya hummed. “Only a few of us could work with a cover. I don’t know how they would take someone like myself trying to get in. Likely with a sniper shot through my heart.” She turned to Vigil. “Oh? Even for the non Romulan’s amongst us?”

"Of course. Not everyone can pretend to be operatives, mind you, but there is an alternative. Prisoners, or informers from other factions, or ..." They shrugged.

She nodded. “Understood, I wouldI prefer prisoners if we can. More ah, believable.”

Raatar raised his hand and kinda walked forward. "I could have a...potential cover? It's loose and what not but, it could work for me bringing in a group of prisoners." Raatar sighed and wrung his hands. "Now, please don't take this the wrong way. My mother was...within the Tal Shiar before her disappearance. I don't know what happened to her, and I seriously doubt the reason I was given when I was a kid. So, I could potentially have a decent chance of getting us past if we need someone to impersonate a Tal Shiar Agent to get past the protective grid." He said with a bit of a hesitant tone. Not wanting to break the very shaky trust or cause any more issues but if they wanted a potentially easy way past that could be it.

"We do not blame a child for the sin of their parents," Stitches answered, with a note that had a bit too much bitterness to be impersonal. "Even so, to risk detection, it would be wise for us to resume our roles, and to play with those we already have set in the base. You don't have the Intel we do; put simply, you would compromise the mission. More a liability than a helping hand." Meanie.

“The prisoner idea is viable, considering not all of us have familiarity with how exactly the Tal Shiar operates. And also, sorry for not bringing this up earlier but.. ah.. if you end up needing another person experienced with explosives.. I’ve got quite a bit of that.” Fuck it. If he had to reveal he was Resistance, so be it. He wanted to blow things up. And also, yknow, serve his purpose as Resistance, all that good stuff, but he really just wanted to blow things up again. He missed it dearly.

"Our experts will do just fine. I'm not fixing you if you all end up blowing your hands off." Stitches answered. Meanie x2.

3

2

"Aw, give the Federation some slack, Stitches," Vigil gently chided the older Romulan. "Though you are right - if we do decide to play pretend, we should be the ones to bring them in. The agents expect us to do so, and our current insiders will know to play along."

“If I can offer something,” Kiadras said, raising her hand out of her coat pocket and holding up a finger, “It might be good to have our little prison group be smaller. Might be for the best if we don’t have all our fish in one barrel, y’know? Leave some people on the outside, in the event things go awry on the inside?”

"If the grid isn't getting disabled, there'd be no way in," Ev'kor pointed out. "It does feel a little like we're borrowing Anga's plan, just for the opposite end," he joked aloud, smiling a little at the ridiculousness of it all. He'd never had to play the part of a prisoner before.

Vara'l, who had followed the others out of the cells, listened quietly to what the others said. Listened and considered for now. He wasn't entirely comfortable with some of what had been said though he most certainly liked the comments made about blowing things up. He most certainly preferred Tal Shiar and anything remotely linked with Tal Shiar blown up or snug in a cell in a very deep and dark hole somewhere watched over by some intelligence service or another or simply by law enforcement. "That could be a thought but, if they've roaming patrols or a sensor net, that may also increase the chance of potential detection by the bases personnel of any group left outside." When Ev'Kor tr'Khellian spoke, Vara'l glanced to them, looked thoughtful for a moment and then just..nodded slightly at that. "In all honesty, it's feeling sort of that way to me, also." He admitted, the joking tone completely missed by him.

"Luckily, this isn't a class, and you won't have marks off for copying," Stitches remarked. "We simply will do it better."

"Correct - and in said grid they have checkpoints, through which agents get in and leave," Emni explained, gesturing a little bit with her hands. "We used them plenty by this point. If we choose the disguise route... it will basically be an open door for us."

"Anything else?" Vovvi had been listening, taking in information carefully, and a little bit of hope was starting to spark up. As long as no one did anything dumb, this could very well work out...

"Getting out might get messy," the saboteur perked up. "

But it is likely that we will be able to slip out when the panic settles. Either through the grid, or with more unconventional means. Just... be ready for that uncertainty. We deal with it daily.

"

"And, you all must be absolutely ready to put your lives on the line. This is not a task to be taken lightly. You can, or will get injured and possibly die. We all will do our best to keep eachother safe, but our best is all we have to offer. Are you willing to die for this?" The question was posed somewhat gravely. Not intending to damper the mood, but it was a very real risk.

“Of course. You don’t come to a planet expecting to fight the Tal Shiar and not be ready to die.” She said with a nod. “We’re prepared.”

"There was a cadet in their midst, wasn't there?" he asked with a furrowed brow. "Some of ours joined young, but..."

Their eyes landed on Dezyim, softening a little. "Doesn't look much younger than some of our own," they offered in reply. "If anyone wishes to stay behind, we can offer them a place here, no?"

"I know I am willing to put my life on the line, at the very least." He spoke after he rolled his shoulders back, schooling his expression into something more serious. This was serious after all.

"A non-issue," Emni reassured, gaze briefly lingering on Zhi'rev as he spoke up, and-- ah. That's the one Selae talked about. She put her palm over her mouth as if pondering the topic, but hiding a knowing smirk underneath.

"I'm willing to die for this cause. Any hit at the Tal Shiar is a hit I wish I could've made sooner. Better late than never." Raatar said before he took in the other officers. His mind wandered into a rather morbid space about if anyone wouldn't make it. Which faces he wouldn't see, or if he wouldn't be seen either. He made sure to promise he'd do his best to protect everyone.

"We were sent here for a reconnaissance mission, not to die," Ev'kor reminded Kya. Then he turned to the Vorta, too. "If you want to join, Cadet, you can. We will look over you." He was a doctor for young people, after all, and Dezyim was certainly young compared to him. This was what he did. "However, staying behind is the safer option, and nobody will begrudge you staying behind. Anyone who wants to stay behind will be given that grace, actually, but especially you."

6

“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m ready.” He said. He’d been waiting for this chance ever since he left Romulan space. He would not let it slip from him now. Any way he could strike at the Tal Shiar, he would take it.

They clapped Boar's shoulder affectionately, as close to a comforting gesture as the old doctor ever offered. Kind of an "I told you so," but less know-it-all than "it's alright, see?", you know?

“Yes, but the preparation is still the same. Things could have gone poorly regardless.” She reminded Ev’kor in return.

"I always write a letter when I'm going to head into something like this, my letter has been written, I'm prepared to accept the risks." He then looked to the one who queried about the cadet and then turned to the cadet, waited to see what the Cadet decided.

"I appreciate all of you looking out for me, but I'm going with you. Although, I must say it is comforting to know that you'll have my back." He smiled sadly at Ev'kor. It was unusual feeling for coworkers to be so supportive of him. Sure he had had friends in the academy, but somehow... this was different. "Thank you all, really."

Sideon paused as he listened to the group express their determination. For the young officer, there was no personal dilemma, there was no hunt for revenge or any anger formed from personal priorities. All that was in his mind was his duty as a star fleet officer and what that duty compels him to do. Confronting danger in all its forms, from minor to life threatening, was something his family and the academies have drilled into him. What good was wearing the uniform, wearing the badge, turning up to work each day and calling yourself Starfleet if it wasn't to do what must be done despite the unknowns. "There is nothing I prioritise more than my duty, and this mission, though an unexpected turn, still falls within that duty. There is not a doubt in my mind nor any hesitation towards the decision. I have faith in us all. Lets do this." He was not stoic, however. Like any rational being with self preservation he was a slave to the biological response. He was anxious. Extremely so, and yet despite his clammy hands, elevated heart rate and pounding of his blood in his ears, he spoke as if all that didn't matter, as to him it really didn't. Anxiety is expected, but being able to persevere despite it was something he was proud of.

4

Lieutenant Ezra's sentiment was met with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Reassuring, intending to be a bit of comfort, Vovvi did not smile, but her gaze was just as bright as it would be if she was. "Well said, Lieutenant," she said simply. "I have complete faith in our combined abilities."

"As do we," it sounded sincere, because she meant it. To be honest, Vigil sounded like she always meant it. Had to, when given the honor to lead a mission. "It seems that the decision has been made, then. Do you need any additional preparation, besides recovering your tools?"

Raatar gave a slight shake of his head. "I'm pretty much ready. I'm just gonna write a letter over here just in case. Hadn't thought of that before. It's a good idea." Raatar said before he took a few steps off to the side to settle and think about what he was going to write.

Dezyim took a breath to steel himself. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before opening them and relaxing his hands. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I believe we are all set.” She turned to the Starfleet crew. “If you have not already. Prepare messages for your loved ones. In the event that you die, any survivors can send them along.” She said sternly. “This is the Tal Shiar. Treat this matter with respect, urgency, use the skills I know you all have, and we will be fine.” She said with her hands clasped behind her.

Raatar was already beginning to compose his message. He looked down as he began to collect himself. Dear Kaara, You don't know me, but I have wished for the entirety of my life to know you. My name is Raatar tr'Khellian, and I'm your older brother. In the event you are reading this, I've been killed after a long and great battle! One that will be made into a really good opera! I know what you must be thinking. I didn't even have the decency of meeting you in person. Yes, men really are the worst. All jokes aside, I am sure this may be shocking, and I am sorry for that. I had wished to find you sooner, but I guess it was never meant to be. I've looked for ages. I've tried to chart every single galaxy and system. Leaving trackers and sensors wherever I could. Hoping and praying one day that maybe that small map in the deep reaches of space could grow into a net to catch you. To bring you to safety. So that I could hold you so tight that I could never ever lose you again. But, all I can do now as a dead man is offer you an opportunity. I am part of a small Klingon House. We're a minor house, so sorry no fancy inheritance. However, my husband would gladly take you in. Show you the hospitality and love our family most likely didn't provide. I know it isn't much, but I want you to know you have a home with us, always. I love you, Kaara. I'm so incredibly proud of you. You must be so brave, and so tough. I can only imagine what you have overcome and what you have yet to achieve. You are incredible, and I am so lucky to be your brother. I don't even know you yet my gut tells me that I know everything I need to know already. You're my sister, and that's all that matters. Stay safe, Kaara. I'll be waiting for you on the other side. Don't rush or anything though. I'll keep everything nice and ready. Go live life. You deserve that much. Raatar finished his letter to his sister, before he made sure to address it to Korok. He would know what to do.

Annarok lingered in the back, watching the scene unfold, their mind racing. Haekis had made his choice — that much was clear. But Annarok? This could be a suicide mission. They weren’t frontline ops — not usually. Their expertise was in logistics, strategy, flying, and coordination. They weren’t untrained. They’d faced danger before, fought when necessary, and survived. Even so, this wasn’t an ideal situation. Glancing between Haekis and the chaos that had unfolded, doubt twisted in their chest. But the mission, the risk — all of it faded from their mind the moment they saw Haekis. It wasn’t the reunion they had imagined, not by any stretch. Yet, there he was. The weight of their shared past pressed down, memories stirring alongside the ever-looming shadow of the Tal Shiar. Old grievances flickered in the back of their mind, but there wasn’t time to dwell. Every instinct told them to calculate, to weigh the risks. But was standing back even an option? They’d come this far. Whatever doubts remained, one truth was certain — Haekis was here, and whatever came next, Annarok wouldn’t let him face it alone.“Haekis, can we talk for a few? I could use a good distraction.” Almost like old times before a run,

Tavek had no letters to write. Rather, mentally, he had typed up two messages. In the event he suffered a total shutdown, was killed in there, those messages would automatically send as the last action his circuits could perform. One to his creator. It simply read “I am destroyed and unrecoverable. This is how I would have wanted to die anyways. Do not re-create me in any way. The other, to his friend currently redoing the Academy after losing her memory- Aiko. This message was sweeter. Kinder, with more love and thought put into it. It waxed long about his regrets for leaving her so soon, his hopes for her to live a good life and to keep going despite his death. And a polite request to take care of his kitten, which would be sent to her. The final note at the end read “I’m sorry, Aiko. I died doing what I believe I was made for. Please go on and thrive in my absence. You deserve it. Goodbye.” Tavek had always been a whirlwind of a person. Born into fire and hatred, he had used it as fuel ever since joining the Tavrae cell. His "childhood" had been spent lobbing explosives at Tal Shiar agents, using whatever weapons he could to defend himself and his comrades, letting bases explode into rubble thanks to his work. His "adolescence" with the Ravek cell had been spent devising ways to make sure the Tal Shiar starved, that they were left without weapons, supplies, backup, hope. A colder, more clinical and detached form of hate, but hate nonetheless. This mission, this possible suicide, this possible last act? This reminded him of his childhood, with the Tavrae cell. Direct action, fighting, witnessing it firsthand. It was an honorable way to die. Tavek didn't mind it. He had finished writing them and storing them in his memory when he saw Annarok coming over to where he was sitting. He smiled a little half-smile, gesturing for the man to sit beside him. “Yeah.. of course. Like old times, before all of this Starfleet and Republic s

04:20

tuff got in the way.” He said quietly. Tavek was a far cry from the Haekis of the resistance world. His hair was neater, though dyed purple. Most of his skin was covered up with clothing, but there had been self-repair scars on his face that were now gone, replaced with smooth skin. He had never mentioned wanting to ever fix them while he was still with the Resistance. He had been proud of them, actually. They had been buffed and polished away to leave a perfect little Federation android, ready to be the meek, respectful, bottom-of-the-barrel Starfleet Ensign that was too unfamiliar with Federation life and too terrified of the authority everyone around him held to be able to report the ways he’d been treated in the Federation so far. He knew the Republic would be much the same way, so he had never bothered going back. Same situation, different font, and riskier to be an android there. Why bother?

A letter, he didn't have many people he could write to, many people he could connect with, many people he could tell. But, there were two, two he should have contacted long before this. And this, well this might just end in his death. Better late than never, he would muse later – if he got out of this alive, that is. And so, he started to write something, anything, to the two who should learn what had happened to him if he did perish. Hello, if you are reading this, it means that I have died. I know, you probably didn't want to hear about it like this – or ever, for that matter – but, I guess the time for regrets has passed. I did my best, you know, I did my best, after I left, even if I did things… I'm not the proudest of. I became a diplomat for Starfleet, for the Federation, I hope… that makes you proud of me, you always told me… you wanted me to make something of myself. I hope I did. I hope, even if you never knew until it was too late, I made you proud. I suppose you might be wondering how I ended up in this situation, and perhaps that is a story best left untold. Just know… that I needed to do this. And that I did not plan to die. I've never planned on dying. If you are reading this… just know that I went out doing everything I could, that I… did my best, like I always wanted to do. I… don't know what else to say here, despite the fact that I was a diplomat in life, I… was never the best with expressing myself like this. Maybe this will give you comfort, maybe this will make you more concerned. But… this is not the first letter like this that I had to write to you. I… just destroyed the others. I was just never sure how to reach out. I know I should have done that sooner… but… well. It's too late for that now. Goodbye, Zhi'rev ir-Rheis tr'Lareth Sivath

05:31

He wondered, after he finished writing, if he sounded too formal, but at the same time, it was probably better that way. And so, he made sure that in the event of his death, the letter would be sent to a house on Rheis, where Dvir and Teillh lived. After all, his parents were the only ones he could truly think of sending a letter like this to.

Off the top of her head, there aren’t very many people in her life that she could think of writing a letter to. She was confident that all would be well come the end of things, but there was still a nagging voice in the back of her head after the suggestion of letters floated through the group. Almost every past host had gone into a similar situation, dangerous and tactically challenging. Kiadras might get roughed up, tortured, lose a limb… He thought for a while. Who could he write to, and have it mean something? There was only one person who came to mind, if only to soothe some of the more paranoid thoughts. He was positive things would turn out alright. But nevertheless, the Trill was far too stubborn to sit idly by while everyone else poured hearts onto the page. She began to write. To the Vrii that comes after me, You’re going to remember having written this, and all the thoughts and feelings that come with it, so I think I’ll skip the formalities. Dangerous mission, questionable outcomes, unpredictable enemy…that’s the kind of stuff we thrive on. I hope the Initiate Program was smooth sailing for you. Certainly wasn’t for me. Whatever you do when you follow after me, don’t run away. You might want to, you might have to fight with yourself, but don’t do it. Stick to whatever it is you’re committed to; Starfleet, a winery, whatever. I’ve lived with far too much regret to let you run off. You’re Vrii, I’m Vrii. You know what happened, what led us here. What led to you. If things go well today, which I have pretty positive feelings about, then you’ll still remember writing this. You’ll know what this all means to me. To us. Be happy, commit to something, and don’t let anyone get in your way. Be seeing you, Kiadras Vrii With a few taps, the letter is saved away on Kiadras’s PADD. It wasn’t like he’d have to send it anywhere. That’s yet another wonderful thing about Trill; Writing to your future self didn’t require any postage. (edited)

Vara'l had settled into a corner of the camp and while he had happened to have written a letter prior to departure, proceeded to write another. Worked on it quietly as others worked on theirs. It was simple, the other letter contained everything he wanted to say to Telim just as a second he'd included for sending alongside it contained something for his extended family. This letter was addressed to Elohae. Not being the best at the composing of letters, or at least that was how he viewed himself, the letter ended up going through four iterations before he settled on what he settled on. A heartfelt thank you that would, if the worse happened, accompany the other letters he'd composed. A thank you accompanied by a request and something else. A simple post script, another thank you and an apology. After all, if he happened to be reading the letter...it meant that he was the last one. The last of their old group of friends who'd looked up at the stars with such wonder what felt like so long ago on the home colony. Vara'l was sorry about that and sorry that he'd left Elohae and others alone to help Telim through his pain and grief. He'd ended the letter formally then and then had proceeded to write a note to his brother. My brother. If you're reading this, I am dead. The mission we're about to embark upon, its a dangerous one. You know the sort. I'm sorry we didn't get to truly know each other better, but it gladdens my heart that, before the end we'd mended the bridge between us in this time I've had. If all this was was extra time, freed from the Hive, I am gladdened to have spent some of it with you, my brother. Look after yourself, my love to you and your family. P.S- I know you'll be worried about it. If you're reading this, Telims with Elohae and mom'll have been informed. I've left you something longer in my partition, the passwords Senat. Stay safe. Vara'l tr'Hara.

11:21

Once he'd completed the letter Vara'l proceeded to store it on his PADD and marked it to send on death. He then appended to its instructions what he'd already worked on some time back which would, if he died and the instructions were triggered, prime what he'd stored ready for Telims birthdays. Little messages from him that were intended to accompany those from his mother. Those she'd managed to put together before she'd deteriorated to far. With the last bit inputted he then frowned and after he agonized for a bit, proceeded to set the bits from him to await Senat or his mothers house authorisation codes. Along with that, he added something to his last will and testament. A request for the duo to look over what he'd recorded and to determine if or when they should be shown to Telim. He then saved it all on his PADD, stared at his PADD for a moment and then slipped it away safe.

Mudd just stood there awkwardly, he had no one to send a letter to no one he loved nor did he really have any friends except one he could think of but he already had a letter and testament in case anything happened to him and that was enough. Seeing all the others write their letters made him feel lonely beyond words, he didn't belong in this time hell he should have died in the dominion war but that clearly didn't happen. He regretted not having made a lot of friends, did he have friends here? He didn't know but he hoped if something did happen to him that the symbiont Korex would live on somehow, it had to protected and the future Korex would know what he wanted to say so there was that.

Dakom observed the writing of letters with only a mild interest. He knew, vaguely, that he should write something. He had parents. He had siblings. And yet the prospect only stirred a different breed of unease in his gut. Perhaps it was tainted with spite; his parents had only ever offered the barest suggestion of family. It could not be said that they truly raised him, and he had not heard from them since graduating at the Academy. At least Nistraxmi sent a message for his semicentennial. It felt... appropriate, somehow, to maintain such a minimal dialogue, even given the prospect of death. With a small sigh of resignation, he typed only briefly on his PADD. "To Home: If you are reading this, I am dead. This is not to be a long message, as there is little to be said now between us, and my death would make the rest irrelevant. I will not ask that you be proud of me. There are no conditions to be set. Expect my belongings to be sent to you on the next ship. That is all." Dakom promptly tucked the device away, having no further need of it. He moved to stand beside the one face he could call familiar here, Mudd as alone as he, though he did not speak to him. His expression remained carefully blank.

Kya didn’t need to write a letter. Her family understood her job. Her mother was a resistance fighter, she understood better than anyone. Her father was a simple chef, but he had lived as a Cardassian his whole life. He knew how death worked, he knew the risks of living. Kya simply kneeled there in the camp and silently prayed to the prophets in Bajoran, asking them to watch over the team, and to ensure the survival of them. She didn’t ask for herself, she knew the prophets wouldn’t offer it to her. This was the problem with believing in the prophets when half of her DNA had caused such harm to the people the prophets watched over, you end up not believing yourself worthy of their love. So she asked for it to be given to others. Kya stood from her knees and looked around. “Ready.” She said simply.

4

The ACTO nodded slightly at the ready comment as he started to undertake the series of things he did before any combat engagement. First he proceeded to check his tricorder and other equipment that wasn't his phaser The stuff they'd been allowed to keep on them. Then once he'd done that he checked each element of the remainder of his equipment that could be checked, that was still on his person. Returned each item once he'd checked them over to the position on his body they were secured on, tricorder to its holster and so on and so forth. As he did that he idly allowed his mind to run through a prayer to the Elements he'd remembered someone he'd once known use prior to combat. The prayer internalised as he ran through it, as it resonated with part of him even as another part of him hummed that he could never truly cease to exist so death should be something that concerned him as muc, as his memories from prior his liberation continued to exist within the collective. In a sense, part of him would never cease to exist, locked within the collective as it was. That wasn't as much of a comfort to Vara'l as it once would have seemed. He was a father now to another son, a son he'd truly come to know and love as his adoptive father only after liberation. Before that he'd simply been Uncle Vara'l. The him now, the him he'd truly started to like. That the Borg didn't have. Part of him was happy that was and remained truly his. Part of him was pained that, if what survived someone was the memories of them, that if he died.. what would have continued to exist in a certain way were fragments of this him and.. the memories of a drone who'd once been a person, estranged from their brother and shattered by loss. In a way, deep down, he discovered..that hurt.

Their gaze lingered on the group for a long time. All of them were so .. passionate, to say the least, and here they were. Prepping for a death march. Stitches opened their mouth to say something, but thought better of it, brushing past Vigil and squeezing her shoulder on their way to a tent to change into uniform.

7

The engineer was of the similar opinion to many of the others - sure, it wasn't the same mission as before, but there was the risk of Death By Tal Shiar upon signing up for it and as part of Starfleet, well - others had already said that part pretty clearly. He kept his will in a little folder with a bunch of links to other documents and files. The letters themselves were typical: he thought they were a bit cheesy, probably, but heartfelt. The one to his parents and family were written entirely in Spanish, the others, in Standard littered with foreign phrases he'd learned from them. The links were photos he liked that sometimes he remembered to add in, but there was a note in his will anyways to release all - or most - of his photos he took (with appropriate permission from the subjects). One of the most key documents that he actually did keep updated pretty well was one not initially created for will-purposes, but a running list of quotes and memorable moments from family, partners and friends all the same that he kept. But yeah, no, the letters... he felt they didn't need any updating, they never really did unless he was sitting up at 3am and thought 'damn, that would sound good in there'. Mostly, he considered his life to speak for itself, someone who frequently contacts and keeps in touch with those he cares for, so... the letters weren't really on his mind after a brief thought to it. divider

14:13

Really, he usually tried to avoid thinking about death as much as he could, but it was much more prevalent on his mind right now than it usually was. Two (2) days from now marked a moment where someone who meant a whole hell of a lot to him died. Two (2) days from then marked the same, of someone else. His eyes looked briefly over at Eshen as his mind irrationally feared the numbers involved, tying them through his brain like red strings on a conspiracy board. Hell, maybe there'd be another on the third of April, even! How long could the chain go? His mind loved numbers, it loved patterns, it loved putting things together like building blocks and - somehow, he caught himself. He took a deep breath, and looked back ahead of him. Brought himself back to reality as much he could. He had to.

3

Truth be told, there were no letters to write. No messages to send. She had already written and prepared them. Not that Vovvi thought she was going to die in this particular instance, mind you. It could be anything. A freak accident, an incurable disease, a murder — she needed to be prepared for anything. So, she kept her last will and testament updated. Constantly. Just in case. "Do not use now to cement an idea that you are going to die here," she said quietly in the melancholy silence that had fallen over the group, before standing up straighter, voice raising a little. "You are going to fight for your lives, and for the allies we have made here today. No self-sacrificial nonsense. The only heroes we will have today are those who do their very best to successfully carry out the mission, not fools who throw themselves into the line of fire." She crossed her arms, brows furrowing. "Consider that an order, to those I can deliver them to. Do you all understand?"

6

5

“Understood, commander.” She said in response to Vovvi, even if she already understood that. The job was simple for Kya even if she did not verbalize it. Get the young ones out. When the Takei crashed onto that forest moon, she wasn’t able to save the young ones. Of the 14 to make onto that shuttle, most of them were older like her. The hundreds who had died had been much younger. She wouldn’t let that happen again. “No heroes. Everyone look out for each other, and remember. Fight with everything you have.”

Ev'kor didn't have anything to write, either. He'd been resistance for three decades and never wrote home then, even when things got dire. His will left all his possessions to Letor, to share with R'Imus and Dhivael, and his parents would understand. Especially Tavaen, even if his old man didn't know the half of it. "Aye, commander," he echoed, sticking his medical tools back into his coat as they were handed back to him, so he'd have his hands free. He was one of the few who could actually receive orders from Vovvi, being of a lower rank- he was also one of the few who didn't need the instruction.

He didn't have anyone to write to - not because he didn't have friends and loved ones, but because he was satisfied that he'd lived a life free of the regrets and and secrets that might compel a person to compose a letter full of such things to those people. Every person he'd last met, he had said what he needed to say with sincerity and passion, and so there was nothing more that would help them come to terms with his death any more than his actions already did. Besides, after the last dangerous mission he'd been on, he'd already penned his will. In that letter the jist of what he'd said to his partners, his friends and the world was 'I love life and I love you', which, for anyone who knew him, was not a revelation but evident in the way that he lived. It was those words he whispered to Allan as he pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

4

There were no letters to write and her testament needed no updates. Most of what she wanted to say would endanger her child if the wrong people read it and that was the last thing she wanted. She had never been much of a fighter, to the absolute dismay of her mother and aunt. Most of what she had learned as a child and later for the navy had grown rusty from lack of use. Even if she had refreshed some of it after officially joining Starfleet she knew she was no match for the foes they would face here, not that she would have been in her prime either. Her thoughts briefly drifted off to the few times she had physically sparred with Khaiell. It was impossible to see them in a hostile light and even then she had never won. Havra did not want to die here, even if it would be poetic enough that you could spin it into a decent ending for their story if you cared to do so. Their hands were shaking as they looked around at the people they were standing with. Life was strange that they should find themselves on this side. There was a sense of unease mixed in with the feeling of responsibility that had made them join this mission in the first place. If a traitor was what they had to be, Havra might as well do it properly.

2

At some point, Boar and Vigil, too, walked away to change back into the accursed uniform, resuming their act as a Commander and her trusted Lieutenant. It wasn't the first, and won't be the last time they have to pretend to be their enemy - a tactic taken straight out of Tal Shiar's own card deck. Emni adjusted the belt and looked at herself in the mirror - just to see if the illusion was, truly, there again. Behind her, movement - she watched Temar approach and curl a gentle hand around her waist, his head lowered to look her in the eyes. He saw equal amounts of sadness and determination in her gaze, and he could feel pride swelling up in his chest, because he remembered where she started. Where both of them started. "Vacation after this one?" he offered, making her solemn expression break into a small smile. "Vacation after this one," Emni confirmed, pressing a kiss to his clothed cheek. "Gather the rest. Let's go and keep the away team safe."

6

She approached the away team, fixing her sleeves. The intimidating agent was back - though her gaze was infinitely kinder. At least, for now. When she didn't need to act. "We will need to lead you one by one, in a row," Emni explained, drawing a line in the air with her gloved finger. "Try to look as uncomfortable as possible - Tal Shiar love to roughen up their opponents, before dragging them into a jailcell. Now, would your ragtag group of rulebreakers that was caught snooping around the outpost have a leader?"

"I would make a joke about the decentralisation of power and its effectiveness in keeping a movement alive, but we should probably get a good actor and liar to fill that role," Ev'kor said, face carefully blank. He didn't want to volunteer, especially as a junior officer and a medic.

4

"Commander tr'Hara is our ACTO," Vovvi offered, kind of throwing him under the bus a little, but hey. "He is very honest, however, so... Maybe not, respectfully, sir." Hmm. She surveyed the group, trying to pick one person out.

"We don't have to elect one, but in case there was someone, I would be leading them. They also, sometimes, ask about that," she sighed. That sigh was slightly exasperated. Speaking from experience? "So don't feel the need to sacrifice yourself for the cause."

Aha! Good thing her default state was looking slightly uncomfortable. "There is our friend from the Trill science ministry," she considered, inclining her head to glance over at Kiadras while tucking her phaser into her coat.

Stitches made their re-appearance, tugging uncomfortably at the jacket of their uniform. Their default state was cold bastard, so they suited their lie just fine. "Draw straws?" they offered, probably intended to be a joke, but hard to tell.

"Who are we trying to convince them we are? Regardless of who leads us we should all know that at least." They would definitely not have to pretend to be uncomfortable.

"What do you mean? Beyond nosy researchers who poked a little too close to the nest?" Vovvi inclined her head a little. "I don't think we need much of a cover besides that."

"Oh, oh, I'm good at lying. About, um. Breaking rules and shit, I mean, like - I've already got the photos and stuff?" He tilted his head. Seemed easy enough to him, but that's maybe because it wasn't too far off from doing something he actually did.

"As am I, about many things." Acting skills were important as a diplomat. At least, the way he did it. "Not that I'm putting myself forward, though I wouldn't mind." Whatever role he was given, he would commit to - truly a theatre kid!

1

"I may be wrong, so feel free to correct me Commander, but I think it would be smart to at least have a consensus on at least what organisation we hail from and such, just so the story does not fall apart instantly." They knew they were doomed if properly 'interrogated', but it might still be better than nothing.

The Trill was very obliviously shadow boxing herself against the wall of one of the cabins, not quite aware that she was being tossed around for the role of a lifetime.

5

"Oh, I misunderstood. Very good call, Lieutenant," she agreed, nodding. "As we are in civilian clothing, just tourists or something similar will serve us well, if anyone doesn't have any other ideas." (edited)

"I mean, yeah, I can make some shit up about why this place is touristworthy. I mean, it is already, but I mean like, more specifically, I guess." Like the neat birds! And the beetle. Vovvi still even had the boodle.

"You know, we could say they are from Starfleet..." he let out a breathless chuckle over Emni's eyeroll.

"That might be too risky," she replied to Temar. As for the away team... "Wouldn't call this place touristworthy. There have been scientists before, though. As well as civilians with too much curiosity, lately, with the rumors as such. There are also, well... smugglers."

The boodle was now plot-important. "I wish Saren were here. I mean, I don't, because I'm glad he's not in danger, but he could sell this so well." Alas, he was not enough of a biologist.

2

"It might be good to establish where our group met up and for how long we had planned to be here and perhaps to pretend we do not know one another so whatever we may come up with does not contradict other people's story. We could say something along the lines of this being a trip that it lead by some scientist that specialises in showing off small colonies to interested people, and everyone else can come up with their own reason for being here?" Maybe she was thinking too much about this, but she couldn't really stop herself from at least voicing her thoughts. (edited)

He thought for a moment, raising a finger to his chin before he smiled, "I like the idea of being Civilians snooping around a little too much, but if they know all the civilians on the planet... it might not work as well..."

"They do not, thankfully. This is no small colony," he replied to Zhi'rev. "

They probably know the higher-ups. But civilians? Too many at this point. And new additions moving in is not a rare scenario.

"

"No, literally, I was wishing he was here when we were in the forest earlier, he'd be so good at this shit, but... yeah, um.." he said, mostly to Eshen, before speaking to the rest of the group again. "Yeah, we could maybe claim we were looking to start a sort of business? Scoping things out for where to start one..?"

"Good, that would make things easier then," He said with a nod, glad that his idea actually made some semblance of sense.

"Or we heard of an abandoned building out here we thought we could renovate and use," Ev'kor suggested, tagging onto what Allan said.

"Real estate development..." Dakom murmured with a grimace.

6

"Ooh, yeah, yeah, exactly, scoping that out. Maybe something to do with production, then? Carpentry? Uhh.." Ideas, ideas.. he was not a businessman, that was for sure. "I dunno if real estate'd fly easily on a Federation colony."

"I still think it would be smart to claim that we do not know each other well, that way we're less likely to contradict each others covers..." She looked around, she could barely recall any of their names as it was "We also do not know this planet..."

"Realistically, most of us need to not speak," Ev'kor said matter-of-factly. "If anyone at all. Look down and don't say anything."

1

"True, but just like, in the off-chance that they like, do ask questions - ya know, just to be prepared..?" It didn't seem likely, sure, but it also didn't seem impossible.

While ideas were being launched around, Vovvi called out "Commander Vrii, I'm volunteering you to lead our pretend group, whatever it may be. Trill science ministry, and all. If you'd like to," she said.

"Oh, no, preferably don't speak at all unless forced to via questions or an order. Agents do not tolerate much noise," so reassuring! "But with us there, they shouldn't so much as breathe in your direction. We would be the ones in charge of taking care of you."

"I do agree with the Lieutenant, one person claiming to know the rest of us and failing at it is enough, no offence." She smiled, it didn't look very happy. (edited)

"Because of Vigil's rank," Temar added. "Don't stick your nose in a Commander's business, or something like that. Popular mindset there."

Coincidence? Maybe, but Stitches still registered the name with a near imperceptible little head tilt. "Overthinking doesn't hurt, in this case, but we'll take care of the bulk of your concerns." Two commanders! Even if one was just a medic.

2

He nodded to what Vigil said. Right, they were bringing them in. "Yeah, that seems good, then, right - I guess we're good on that front, then."

"Act confused and unsure if you do get questioned. Frustrating, but useless. Frustrating for its uselessness," Ev'kor told Allan, and everyone else in the process. "Yeah, especially with these guys around us, we should be alright."

Raatar was glad people would be taking care of him. That's nice. He didn't have much to add. He wasn't a leader, and certainly not a talker. But he could be a passenger princess for this sabotage mission.

His ears pricked up from where he was standing, stopping mid-punch and turning to face Vovvi, “Oh- Yeah, I can pull that off!” Kiadras wasn’t the best actor, but he could lie pretty well. It helped to have so many years in his head. He walked over to the group discussing the plan, “So, the researcher excuse again?”

"If anything i could pretend to be the hired pilot who doesnt know much?...i am a pilot after all...less deception i have to pull off personally the better..." He suggested, but rather quietly, perhaps more of an outwards thought than anything else.

"We'll follow your lead." That was that settled, then. "Any questions or concerns, voice them now or you won't get another chance for a while. And try not to loudly proclaim your plans to sneak around pretending to be something you aren't, this time, hm?"

"Most of us will not be talking. It will not matter what we are," Dakom pointed out flatly, as he was near enough to hear that suggestion.

"Hopefully, but planning for the literal worse is better now than on the fly...I work better with a plan."

"The worst case scenario is anyone talking," came the intelligent response.

“Hey, I whispered them,” She says with a little grin, trying to bring some levity to the whole situation before nodding, “Nothing comes to mind. I know a Jek at the Ministry, so if they run the name I’m just the new host and they didn’t update records,” She’d have to buy Opara a drink…anyway, “And if we need to hit the panic button, I am the hand-to-hand expert, to ease any worries. So if I’m in front, then…” She shrugged.

"Just for my personal peace of mind are we here for research a trip or both and am I meant to know anyone besides our dear fellow from the trill science ministry?" They did not mean to be annoying they just were not used to having to cooperate a cover story with this many people.

"We're not familiar with anyone besides Commander Vrii, for the sake of ease. We're here on a research trip.. Right. Medical, make sure you have your equipment together. Everyone, if anything happens, phasers on stun." Breath in, and out. They could do this.

“If they ask, it’s Patrelvia Jek. I’m a…botanist,” He pulled botanist out of his ass.

"You will not have to fight while getting in. I will make sure of it," Temar's device replied, while the man angled his head. "

Act like you just got caught doing something illegal, and are dragged off into the unknown. That is all that we need you to do.

"

1

"Coming out will be another story," Stitches agreed, sighing. "Can someone identify the Medical officers among you, so I know who I'm working with?"

Dakom inclined his head to acknowledge the direction from Vovvi. "Thankfully it was not confiscated, and so already together." He turned his gaze to Stitches, then. "I am one of them," he informed.

They nodded at what was said, more to themselves than anyone else, they could do this... they hoped. Almost subconsciously they tugged their head scarf back into place. There was nothing they would like to do less than talk to the Tal Shiar, but still just in case they started to come up with small things about this supposed person that they were now. At least that part was nothing new.

"Are you ready now?" just to make sure.

Kiadras took in a breath and steeled himself, before nodding, “Let’s do it.”

3

“Yes, let’s.” She said simply with a nod of her own.

"Alright," Emni extended her arm, calling the "leader" closer to herself. "Let us handle this until the coast is clear. Form a line - the sooner we go like that, the better."

Kiadras followed Emni’s lead, turning back to the rest of the group, “We’ll be alright,” She smiled, “We’ll be a-okay.”

Line up time. Vovvi took a breath in, and out.

Raatar zoned in once he heard the group come together and make a decision. He quickly got into the line and began to bounce on his feet to try and get rid of his nervous energy.

Vara'l kind of just nodded at what Vovi said about him. How could something like that have been disputed? It was true. He was a honest person, when he encountered Tal Shiar he honestly introduced them to being blasted by a phaser or introduced to the fact he happened to not be fond of said organization. That was about all he did for a little bit before, when the others started to move, he elected to join the group and got into line.

And with that... off they went, to the #outpost-perimeter.