Chapter 2

Captain's log, supplemental: The trade with the B'Enii had left us with enough energy to last us a few months. Neelix assured us that we would not need to wait that long before finding another planet, though.

The mood in the briefing-room was congenial. The B'Enii had been both hospitable and friendly. For the first time in months everything seemed to go according to plan – such as it was.

Janeway looked at her senior officers gathered around the table. Neelix and Kes were softly whispering to each other. B'Elanna was glaring at Tom and idly Janeway wondered what the pilot had said to the engineer to make her so angry. Probably not that much, she smiled to herself.

To her left sat Tuvok, as silent as only a Vulcan can be. Next to him sat Harry. She regarded him for a moment. The young man was a wonderful addition to the crew, but some things were still difficult for him. Sitting next to Tuvok was probably one of those things. The dark Vulcan completely unnerved the young human.

Next to her, on her right, sat Chakotay, checking some last details on a PADD. The moment he looked up from his work, she cleared her throat. Instantly all attention was focussed on her.

"Gentlemen," she began. But she never got to complete her sentence, as the door whooshed open and the Doctor strolled in, grinning.

"Doctor?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I've decided to join you in person today," he grinned while displaying his mobile-emitter. "I haven't seen that much of Voyager, and it is time I get to know the ship that had kept me safe all these years."

She mentally sighed and turned to the officers. There was no way to get rid of the Doctor now.

"Well, gentlemen," she tried again. But once more she was rudely interrupted.

This time it was not by anything as mundane as the Doctor. The briefing room was suddenly filled by a bright white light. Involuntarily they all closed their eyes. In moments the light dissipated to reveal the presence of a lovely young woman dressed in a flowing white dress. She looked at them with a vastly superior frown on her delicate forehead.

"Do be dears and deal with Rodney in a permanent fashion," the woman said before lifting her hands. Bright light danced on her upraised palms.

Suddenly the light expanded – as blindingly white as before.

The world disappeared.

The mood in the briefing-room was vaguely depressing. Weir sighed softly and mentally counted up to ten: she was not particularly looking forward to this briefing.

Yet the morning had started off relatively well. Teyla and Ronon had returned from the main land with fresh fruit for the mess-hall. Rodney had been rather pleased to see an extra large amount of berries they could use as a coffee-substitute.

John had been busy gleefully torturing his marines under the guise of PT-exercises. To top it all off, all three her sub-commanders' reports had been handed in on time today: neatly typed and error-free. They had even attempted to tell the truth concerning the mission to PX-557.

Rodney and Radek were entertaining the gate-crew by driving Kavanagh to an apoplectic fit. The American will never be the same again.

Thus the morning had been going fairly well up to the moment that they were alerted to an incoming wormhole from Stargate Command. Out of the blue horison had stepped Richard Woolsey.

And so they now found themselves, two hours later, stuck in the briefing room with what was turning into the briefing from hell. Woolsey had brought the new rules and regulations from the IOA.

Weir rolled her eyes at the antics of her staff and the obliviousness of Woolsey. Carson and Cadman were playing footsy under the table. It always surprised her how the very stoic Scott could turn so very giddy around the blonde explosives expert.

It seemed as if Rodney and Radek were following the rules and regulations on their screens, but she knew better. She could see by their expressions that Rodney was beating Radek at something. Leaning slightly back in her chair, she could see they were busy with a game of chess on their lap-tops.

John, as usual, was slouching in his chair. His face was turned towards Woolsey and she was pretty sure he was sleeping behind his dark glasses: the slight snores were the biggest give-away.

Teyla was being her serene and calm self, actually listening to the briefing. The only sign that she was not as serene as she wanted to appear, was the slight twitch she got every time Woolsey mentioned mission-reports.

Just as Weir was sure that any moment now Ronon was going to shoot Woolsey (hopefully only with the weapon set on 'stun'), a strange female appeared out of nowhere with a shwish sound. She was dressed in a uniform slightly resembling their own. It was a bit more stream-lined, though, and black.

"Enjoy," the woman cryptically said. Then she snapped her fingers and the briefing room disappeared.

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away the Empire had suffered its first major defeat with the destruction of the Death Star. Although victorious, the Rebellion has gone into hiding. As the Empire launched a full-out search for all Rebels responsible for the destruction of their Death Star, life for the Rebel forces has turned extremely precarious. In spite of this new onslaught, rumours have spread of a new hope on the horizon...

"How was I supposed to know this would happen!" Princess Leia yelled at the tall, scruffy man.

Han Solo drew a deep breath and instantly regretted it as the terrible stench assaulted his nostrils. But he had to try to explain to the pretty princess. "Because, your highness," he snapped, "you were the one that made the arrangements for the cargo."

Leia glared at the smuggler. For some reason she always felt like screaming when he was around. So she screamed: "I told Glott we needed fresh meat! What is fresher than that," she angrily demanded as she motioned to the back of the dilapidated rust-bucket that Han Solo insisted was a space ship.

The fresh meat she was referring to in the cargo hold, was a hundred blase tree goats. They were extremely fresh: so fresh they were still alive. She had to admit the smell of the animals was nauseating, but the rebels desperately needed the food. Nothing grew on Hoth.

A little way from the fight Luke was having difficulty concentrating on his exercise. He was once more playing with the little drone Ben Kenobi had given him. His blast helmet blinded him completely, yet he had to block the stinging darts shot from the drone with it on his head. He wished Han and Leia would take their fight somewhere else. He took off the helmet in defeat.

Chewie was commenting on the fight from the pilot-seat. Luke still could not figure out how Han was able to understand the big Wookie.

R2-D2 suddenly came careening down the corridor; sparks flying. The little droid was attempting repairs, but it was proving an impossible task with this old ship.

"Please, this is not helping at all," C-3PO was saying, attempting to make peace between the bickering pair. Luke had to admit: the golden droid really did try. But it was an impossible task. Han and Leia had been at this from the first moment they met.

Just as Leia was drawing a careful breath for her next assault on Han, a bright white light, accompanied by little shwing-sounds, blinded them. She heard the strange sound R2 made when he was startled, but she could not tell if he was able to identify the source of the light.

Gradually her sight returned. The weight that had crashed into her had been Han; gallantly trying to shield her from any danger.

"Get off!" she grumbled as she pushed at him.

Then she looked up. Where the blase tree goats had been, eighteen humans now stood. Or at least: sixteen beings that looked human and two that looked almost human. They were looking around in obvious bewilderment.

Then a big male with wild hair looked down at the dung clinging to his boots. "This stinks," he commented.