CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 1. Simulatus Interuptus

Marine Corps Log: Stardate 65401.2

We have entered the next phase of our training with the S.P.E.D.A.R. system. Although we have been training in the holodeck for three weeks now, the men have always known that it was a simulation. This time they think it's real. When they stepped onto the transporter pad, they thought they were beaming down to a planet for a real mission. Instead, they were beamed onto a holodeck where a pre-programmed battle simulation was already running. The results so far are not encouraging.

As the jungle widened out into a clearing, I ordered my unit to land to assess damages. They were negligible for myself, shields down to 96, weapons at 92, computer on-line and functioning. The rest of my team, however, since they were not as experienced as I was, wasn't so good; except for Perak. The Vulcan's system readings were almost as good as mine were. I linked into Kowalski's diagnostic and it didn't look good. His Force Field was in the process of failing as I watched and his weapons were down to ten percent. His computer was on-line, but just barely. The rest of the team wasn't a whole lot better. Damned fools! They don't listen! The S.P.E.D.A.R. is NOT a starship. It's got a lot of the same functions as one but you can't use it like one! If you go trying to use evasive manoeuvre sequence delta or some such crap, you're going to fry your flight controls. Those moves are designed for impulse speeds in a starship, not 150 kph using anti-gravs! Anti-grav units are a whole different universe. They should have sent me combat troops to train as pilots, not pilots to train as combat troops.

"Kowalski," I said, "switch your shields to auxiliary and divert power from flight control to your computer and weapons systems, your anti-gravs have overloaded anyway. The rest of you, follow suit." I said, raising my voice slightly. "Power from any systems too damaged to function should be rerouted to the systems that need it most. Simmons, don't draw from life support unless you've got nowhere else to draw from. What are you people, first year cadets?" I couldn't believe I had to tell them not to draw from life support!

"You got five mics to get your systems on-line, then we're moving out!" I checked my sensors. Pursuit was closer than it should have been. That probably meant that Donaldson hadn't gotten all of their vehicles.

"Make that two mics, we got company coming! Simmons, as soon as you're on-line, start active sensor sweeps from one six niner to two five zero."

"Yessir!" Simmons barked.

Two of my unit had lost flight control. They would have to be towed. The rest would have to make up for the spaces in formation. It just figured that now that we were clear of the subspace-dampening field around the compound and could fly again, we couldn't make our best time because two of my team were grounded. At least we had gotten the information we were after.

"Sir!" Simmons called. "Two marks at one eight niner, altitude one one zero meters. E.T.A. one mic and closing at two hundred k.p.h.!"

"Roger that. Lock and load people we're goin' hot! Simmons, Perak, get your tractors on-line you're towing Kowalski and Vorn. Move!"

"Yessir!"

"Aye sir," Perak's calm, Vulcan drawl seemed out of place.

"'Yes sir', not 'aye' Perak, we're soldiers not explorers."

"Yes sir." Perak replied, unphased.

As we took off again, my perimeter alarm went off. That meant that the pursuit was no more than half a mic from our position.

"Look alive people. Here they come. Simmons, you and Kowalski hit treetop level and get your H.I.C.S. on-line, go to stealth mode. Perak, Vorn, you go stealth too but Perak, get as high as you can. You're our eye in the sky. Scan those bogeys and transmit targeting info to our systems. If you get a shot, however, and we don't have it, then take it; don't wait for orders. The rest of you, spread out. We can't outrun them so we're gonna have to fight. Just remember that they're better armed and shielded but we're more manoeuvrable. Use that to your advantage. Use the trees and your H.I.C.S. systems for concealment, but remember H.I.C.S. doesn't make you invisible to an active scan. It's not a cloaking device. And for Chrissakes, don't try any more of those starship evasive patterns!"

A stream of Yessirs momentarily regaled me, and then the chatter cut to a minimum as the pursuit vehicles closed. They were not the shuttles I was expecting. They were only light skimmers, about the size of a Starfleet Runabout but designed more for pursuit of quarry on the ground and return transport, rather than airborne combat. They were built to retrieve prisoners that had tried to escape. Since it was unlikely that prisoners would be able to liberate any aircraft for their escape attempt, it was considered unnecessary to have vehicles configured to pursue airborne escapees. Good, they were still better armed and shielded than us but not as well armed or shielded as a shuttlecraft and it would take them an extra few seconds to reconfigure their weapons to track airborne targets. That should be all the time that we would need to take them down. Intel hadn't said anything about these so they must have had them concealed for just such an emergency as this. I guess Donaldson had done his job right after all. There was no way he could have known about these. Perak's steady voice cut into my reverie.

"First target, one eight niner, mark two, altitude one one five meters, sensors locked, transmitting targeting information. Second target one eight eight, mark three, altitude one two seven meters, sensors locked, transmitting targeting information."

Just then, something occurred to me. Something that just might save our asses. "Perak, change of plan. Concentrate on the lead ship. Give us targets that will bring down its shields without damaging it too severely. Vorn, you concentrate on the other ship. Give us targeting info to inflict maximum damage on that one."

Perak's voice came back, as calm as ever. "Transmitting new targeting information now."

If it had been anyone but Perak, I would have suspected them of sending false targeting information. It was damned hard to, with one hand, recalibrate sensors, select new, non-lethal targets, individually lock those targets and transmit it all to us in, what was it, two seconds? Add to that, the fact that he had to do all that while maintaining a one-kilometer hover, and holding Vorn steadily in a tractor beam with the other hand. Like I said, anyone but Perak.

Vorn's raspy hiss sounded like sandpaper on tritanium. "Target locked. Transssmitting." It was easier for Vorn; all he had to do was lock onto the shield generators and engines of the other ship, although, all Gorn were natural born navigators. It was in their D.N.A. or something. That probably helped his tracking and targeting ability.

The lead ship went high, going after Perak and Vorn. The second ship went low, heading for Simmons and Kowalski. (So much for stealth mode) They must have picked up the tractor beams' energy signatures.

"Q'iang! Donaldson! Go after the second ship. Mollen, you're with me. Computer, Jump!"

As Q'iang and Donaldson dove for the second ship, my computer, responding to the pre-programmed voice code --a verbal 'macro' command-- stopped all lateral motion and launched me vertically at maximum acceleration. The inertial dampeners built into the gravitic system kicked in as the acceleration increased and eventually maxed out at 25.7 g's. Without them, I would have been little more than a flying pizza. As I hit one thousand meters, I cancelled the 'Jump' and initiated a hover with a keystroke on my arm-mounted P.A.D.D. It had automatically reconfigured itself for flight control once flight mode had been initiated. I was there well ahead of the first ship. Mollen was four seconds behind me.

"You might want to spend some more time on a holo-simulator streamlining your voice protocols Mollen," I said, locking onto the first target on the lead ship. I relied on Perak's judgment that it was a valid target.

"Yes sir," he replied sheepishly. He had had to lay in course and speed manually to catch up to me.

"Computer, Battle Mode," I said.

Responding again to another macro command, my computer went into 'Battle Mode'. All voice commands were now directly executable. The computer did not have to wait for the prefix 'Computer', or stop to verify tactical commands. This is a dangerous procedure under the wrong circumstances but possibly life saving in combat when fractions of a second can mean the difference between life and death. I would have to watch what I said, though because, in Battle Mode', all weapons systems went immediately from standby to active mode. Also, my force field automatically engaged at full capacity, sensors went into full, active scan mode, the H.I.C.S. system went into stealth' mode and the anti-grav units cut my body weight to fifty percent to enable quick motion on the ground if necessary. One wrong word at this point could disable a key system at a critical juncture and that would end this little trip real fast.

The computer responded by displaying:

SYSTEM STATUS:

Force Field - Active - 96

Phaser Mk. VI - Armed - Pulse Mode - 92

Grenade Launcher - Armed - Photon Grenades - 09 Rnds

Sensors - Full Scan - two Targets Detected

H.I.C.S. - Active - Stealth Mode

Gravitic Control - Flight Mode Active - Subjective Weight - 50

in a green frame at the lower left of my field of vision. I reached down and 'touched' the point where the words '2 Targets Detected' floated. Immediately, two red crosshairs appeared, nearly in the center of my vision, splitting apart as the skimmers vectored for their intended targets. Tactical information scrolled down in green frames beside them. In 'battle mode', my R.L.P.D. displayed all sensor and targeting information as an overlay on my visual field without inhibiting my vision.

I concentrated on the lead ship and blinked. "Magnify target," I said.

Instantly an orange frame formed around the crosshair and expanded to fill my field of vision. The skimmer was outlined in white with green targets painted in various places on it. I blinked again and the image reduced to one quarter of its original size and dropped down to the bottom right corner of my display. As the skimmer approached, I concentrated on the target painted on the shield generator and again blinked. The target began flashing. I engaged P.O.I.N.T. flight control and headed for the skimmer, opening a channel to Mollen. "Mollen, target the shield generators."

"Yes, sir. Locking on." Mollen responded.

Since I was already locked on target, I simply pointed my arm to line up the targeting reticle with the target and touched my fingertips to the contacts on my palm. Pulsating blasts of rectified, phased energy lanced out from the top of my forearm, striking the shields of the skimmer for a full two seconds before disengaging. The target was precise, however, centering on the weakest point in the shields, and the skimmer's port shield generator was highlighted in yellow on my display. A second volley from Mollen and the generator glowed red.

The skimmer flashed by between us and as it pulled away, I closed the contacts again. This time, as the blasts struck the skimmer's shields there was a flash of brilliant, blue-white light and my display showed the generator outlined in black. Almost simultaneously, there was a flash from the other skimmer, below us, as it exploded in a roiling ball of incandescent orange flame and black smoke. My force field expanded and extended in response to the thermal radiation from the blast. The lead skimmer looked like it was circling for another pass. We didn't have much time. We had to get to the skimmer before it completed its turn.

"Good work people," I said. "Mollen, follow me in. The rest of you rendezvous with Perak at 1 k. and come in after us."

"Yes sir," they all responded as one.

I pointed my way toward the skimmer, vectoring in on its port side, with Mollen following behind. The skimmer's sensors must have been damaged as well as its shields because it didn't deviate from its course as we moved in on it. The pilot must have been too confused to begin visual checking -- good. I caught up with the skimmer, manoeuvred my way to the hatch and locked on with my tractor beam. Lowering my phaser setting to level fifteen, I began cutting into the duranium plating. The skimmer started bucking and gyrating dizzyingly. The pilot must have figured out what I was doing but it was too late for him because it only took four seconds to cut through the hatch plating. I clambered through the still glowing opening -- my force field buzzing and spitting where it contacted the hot metal. Once inside, the skimmer's inertial dampeners negated most of the effects of the high-G pitch and roll maneuvers the pilot was executing.

"Walk!" I said as my feet touched the deck. My computer responded by disengaging flight control and restoring my weight to normal. I noticed my P.A.D.D. reconfiguring to standard tactical controls.

"Intruder alert!" I heard the pilot call over the comm. The two burly prison guards coming toward me didn't need to be told I was there, though, because I immediately opened fire on them as soon as I saw them.

"Level ten," I said. As I depressed the firing pad on my palm, a bright, orange-white beam erupted from my phaser, striking the first guard dead center. He fell back, staring down at the twenty-centimeter hole gaping in his chest. Pieces of half-cooked gore dripped from the top of the cavity, and bubbling fluids leaked from the bottom. He looked back up at me accusingly, dropped to his knees and fell face first onto the deck.

The second guard had had time to duck behind a bulkhead and return fire. The blast from his phaser was loud and blinding white. The beam struck me full on. I could see my force field springing from one millimeter to thirty centimeters where the beam struck it, forming a bubble at the point of contact, trying to dissipate the excess heat. The guard could also see this. He quite obviously was not expecting me to still exist after he shot me. Despite this, there I was standing there unharmed, my force field having flowed like thick syrup back into position as soon as the guard ceased firing. He froze for an instant in shocked disbelief. That was all the time Mollen needed.

As I was dealing with the first guard, he had made his way through the ruined hatch and gotten to me just as the second guard was firing. Mollen's blinding white beam became a blinding white glow enveloping the second guard, expanding outward from the point of impact. The second guard simply vanished.

"Nice shooting," I said. The whole thing had taken only about five seconds.

"Thank you sir," he said.

"Secure from battle mode. Computer, maintain shield and weapons status," I said as I made my way forward to the cockpit. Mollen followed close behind.

"Did ya get 'em?" The pilot asked over his shoulder.

"Oh ya, we got 'em," I replied. The pilot jumped up in shock, turning and reaching for his phaser.

"Don't even think about it," I warned, raising my arm, my fingertips only millimeters from the firing contacts. He slowly moved his hand away from his weapon and raised it along with the other one.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"We're Alpha squad," Mollen replied, "and you're lucky you're even still alive."

"Relax Mollen," I said, "this gentleman is going to help us."

The pilot snorted. "Why should I help you?"

Despite the fact that I had just told Mollen to relax, this guy was already starting to piss me off too. "Because if you don't, you're going to end up like your two pals back there. We're in a hurry and we don't have time to screw around. Now, first shut up, second, set this bird down," I said, pointing my phaser meaningfully. He got the hint and sat down at the controls. "And don't try anything stupid, like cutting the gravity or crashing the ship either. I can fly this thing too and if you try anything, I'll just shoot you and land it myself. Computer, Comm channel theta. Perak, do you copy?"

"Yes sir, we are approaching the skimmer now. I assume you now have control of the vessel?" He asked.

"Affirmative," I responded, "but do not board, we are going to land. Rendezvous with us on the ground, out." I cut the channel without waiting for a reply and turned to the pilot.

"What the hell's taking so long?"

"Coming in now," the pilot said. "Five seconds."

The skimmer touched down with a gentle thud as the landing skids hit the turf.

"All right you," I said to the pilot, "get up. Go aft and get out of my ship. Start running as soon as you hit the ground. If you run fast, you might make it back to the compound before dark. It's south of here. Mollen, see him out."

"Yes sir!" Mollen said shoving the prisoner out of the cockpit.

"And Mollen," I called lightly.

"Yessir?" He said, turning.

"Disarm him," I said.

"Oh ... yes sir," he said quietly.

As Mollen was escorting the now disarmed ex-pilot out of my new skimmer, Perak had boarded and come forward.

"Perak, see if you can do something to get those shields working. I'm going to go aft and see about the hole I carved in the side."

"Aye sir," Perak said, as I passed him, arching one eyebrow in the ubiquitous Vulcan gesture that they all seemed to use.

"Perak," I said, turning back to face him, "I thought I told you to say 'yes sir', not 'aye sir'."

"Yes, sir, you did. However, we are now on board a ship, albeit a small one. Since we are still officially part of Starfleet, while we are aboard, the Commanding Officer is referred to as 'Captain', and orders are affirmed with 'Aye'. That is, of course, the strictest interpretation of Starfleet protocol." He seemed almost amused that I hadn't picked up on that.

"Well, even so, I don't give a rat's ass about Starfleet protocol while we're in the field, I am in command here and you will follow my protocols. You will refer to me as 'sir' or 'Colonel' at all times and confirm my orders with 'Yes sir' or 'Affirmative'. Is that clear mister?"

"Affirmative, sir," he replied, unoffended, of course.

I went aft shaking my head. Vulcans!

When I got to the blasted hatch, Vorn and Kowalski were already working on it. I could see Q'iang and Donaldson doing an inspection of the exterior, probably checking for any collateral damage.

"What's your prognosis gentlemen?" I asked.

"About forty mics, using our replicators to rebuild the hatch," Kowalski replied. "We'll have to cannibalize some of the interior bulkheads and layer it out from the breach until it's whole again. We could halve that if we get two more working on it."

"We could get it done even fassster if we could find the pieccce you cut out of it, sssir." Vorn rasped.

"We don't have the time for a search party. Work in relays, one of you cannibalizing replication mass while the other is laying down new hatch plating, then switch.

"Computer, Comm channel alpha. Q'iang, Donaldson, Get to the hatch and help there. Never mind the exterior inspection."

"Roger that, sir" said Donaldson.

"Affirmative," said Q'iang.

I went forward again to talk to Perak.

"Perak, can this ship make orbit?" I asked.

"Negative sir," he replied, "this is an atmospheric craft only. There is no Warp or even Impulse drive. I would estimate its top speed to be four hundred kilometers per hour."

"Well what the hell good is that?" I exclaimed rhetorically.

Perak, assuming the question was literal, answered. "It is probably deliberate. In the unlikely event that escapees stole this vessel, they would not be able to use it to get off-planet, thus making their retrieval easier."

"Okay, so much for plan A. We'll have to go to plan B." I quipped. "What about the shields, can they be repaired?"

"Yes sir, however it will take approximately forty mics."

"Very well, get on it."

"There is something else though, sir." He indicated the diagnostic readout, which he had been reviewing. It showed an outline of the skimmer. A portion of one nacelle was flashing. "The secondary plasma conduit in the port nacelle has a small rupture, probably caused by flying debris from the other skimmer. It will take an additional ten point four mics to complete repairs if I do them. It will take one of the others approximately twice that time."

"Very well, continue repairs on the shields. One of the others can take care of the plasma conduit. Altogether, it will still only be another forty mics until we are airborne."

"Logical." He responded, again raising his eyebrow. He headed aft to the shield generator.

I keyed open the TAC. frequency comm channel on my P.A.D.D. It had already reconfigured itself back to standard settings when I secured from battle mode and had highlighted comm controls when I verbally opened a comm channel.

"Simmons, Mollen, where are you?" I called.

Mollen responded first. "Mollen here, sir, I'm tracking the pilot to make sure he doesn't try to double back and sneak up on us."

Simmons took a couple of seconds to answer. "Simmons here, sir, I'm setting up a temporary perimeter defence. I've detected a number of large carnivores in the area."

"Very well," I said, "Mollen, keep tracking him until he gets one klick away, and then maintain a passive lock on him. When you're sure he's not coming back, I want you to begin repairs on the port nacelle's secondary plasma conduit. If you can't find the problem by scanning the nacelle, set your A.T.I.C. to link with the skimmer's computer and let it tell you where the problem is. Simmons, finish up as quickly as you can, then I want you to get to the shield generator and help Perak but keep an eye on the perimeter defense scanners"

I didn't wait for a response from them. I cut the channel and headed out to get airborne. I wanted to get a look around for myself. This planet was inhabited by semi-sentient hominids and if there were large carnivores around, I wanted to make sure that there were no hunting parties around that were tracking the same prey as the predators. If this world were a Federation one, that wouldn't have been a problem. But the Breen officially owned this world; they rented it to the Humans, who ran a Field Observation Facility'. The Breen didn't have anything like the Prime Directive, and the Humans who ran the place weren't affiliated with the Federation. They didn't care if their presence interfered with the development of the hominids or not. All they were studying' was the feasibility of turning these hominids into slave labor for the black market -- a blatantly illegal endeavor. The hominids were pre-agricultural, a hunter-gatherer society. They were just intelligent enough to allow them to be trained but not advanced enough to more than marginally protest their enslavement. They were more intelligent than one of Earth's more advanced primates but not as advanced as a modern Human. Approximately midway between Neanderthal man and Cro-Magnon man. They probably thought that their captors were Gods or something. After the Dominion war, the Breen were allowed to keep their independence but they were forced to, grudgingly, accept Federation policing of their territory. This was the reason we were here, to get enough information on the operation to allow the Federation to prove its illegality. Then they could overrule the Breen's protests of Federation interference' and send in Starfleet to put an end to it.

I started thinking about the things we had seen, remembering the events that had taken place when we first arrived. We had watched from hidden vantage points behind the foliage and shrubbery at the edge of the forest. Using our R.L.P.D.'s we were able to zoom in and look directly through the force field walls of the compound which were mostly opaque due to the almost constant impact of insects against them. We had had to drop our own force fields for the same reason while we were trying to make a stealthy approach. Otherwise the constant buzzing and snapping of the insects against them would have given out position away instantly.

The "training" of the hominids was brutal, even vicious. All of the pitiful creatures wore obedience collars and we had visually recorded incidents of beatings, whippings, the use of Klingon Pain Stiks, even murder. All used to force these hominids to do the slavers' bidding. The conditions under which these creatures had to live were intolerable.

When Mollen had seen this, he was horrified. The more he saw the angrier he had gotten until, finally, he had gone ballistic. Having been raised by foster parents who had grown up during the Cardassian Occupation, he had heard graphic stories about the savage brutality suffered by his people under the iron fists of the Cardassians, including how his real parents--resistance fighters--had been tortured to death by them. Ever since he was a boy he had vowed that he would never allow such atrocities to be committed by anyone ever again. This had been the catalyst for his entering Starfleet academy in the first place and also for his choosing medicine as a career. Seeing the ill treatment of these hominids now and, of course, not realizing that it was only a simulation, he acted more by instinct than reason. I understood his reaction but that didn't mean I had to like it. It was a good reaction for a doctor but one hell of a bad one for a Marine. He charged the compound roaring and firing wildly in all directions. His shots only bounced off the force field walls harmlessly, but they did make an impressive shower of sparks. He had left us with no alternative. We had to back him up or he would have been killed. That would have given away the fact that this was only a simulation and blown the whole exercise.

The slavers thought that they were under attack by an army -- which wasn't that far from the truth, considering the power of the S.P.E.D.A.R. system. Even without the ability to fly, we still represented quite a considerable threat to them. I had immediately ordered Mollen back, but to no avail.

"All right I'm goin' in after him. Everyone get your shields up. Kowalski, you're with me," I ordered. "Perak, Vorn, take out as many of those towers as you can, starting with the gate towers. The rest of you, give us covering fire, stay here and wait for my orders. Computer, Battle Mode." I raced for the gate opening at top speed with Kowalski glued to my six and slightly to my right.

Each section of the compound wall was a high-energy force field, ensnared between large towers. A field that, now fully energized, was so powerful it rippled in rainbow colors as it scorched the very molecules of the air that came into contact with it. To touch it would be instant death as every cell in your body was simultaneously disrupted at the molecular level. At the top of each tower was a covered platform. Each platform had a Phaser Cannon emplacement that was capable of bringing down a shuttlecraft. The front gate was also a force field, suspended between two generator pylons, in the middle of the south wall of the compound. I set my phaser to level sixteen, locked onto the left pylon and fired. The ground shuddered as the pylon erupted in a fountain of fire, smoke and sparks and the force field gate went down. If our gravitic generators hadn't been disrupted by the subspace dampening field around the compound, we could have flown over the force field and landed right in the middle of the compound. Instead, we had to shoot our way in and hope we didn't get killed in the process. At least our shields still worked.

Damn! I thought. This was supposed to be a recon mission. They weren't even supposed to know we were here! I reset my phaser to wide field and took down three guards in one shot. Now we're gonna have to fight our way out of here. Not only that but when the TAC Team shows up, they're gonna get a nice, warm welcome from these assholes. Great! If this was real, I swear da gawd I'd shoot 'im myself!

I had lost sight of Mollen. I moved quickly along the road that led into the compound, under cover of Stealth Mode, through the ruined gate, and caught sight of him to the right of it. He didn't even have his Stealth Mode activated. I couldn't see if his shield was active or not so I tapped into his display. Thankfully he had at least had the presence of mind to activate it. He was just outside a large area fenced in by another force field, probably the landing field. To the left, another guard was coming out of a building that looked like it was offices constructed from native wood. He was drawing a bead on Mollen.

I fired, aiming instinctively. The shot went just wide and the guard dove back into the building. I didn't want to give him and his buddies a chance to come out firing, so I set my phaser to pulse mode and fired. The blasts raked across the side and front of the building, demolishing the walls as they went. The weakened structure gave way and the roof collapsed. Kowalski fired two photon grenades into the building next to it, just in case. The building erupted in a cloud of smoke and fire. Shards of flaming wood bounced off my force field.

All this destruction had made us into pretty high-priority targets. We had to move despite our stealth camouflage. Perak and Vorn had done a good job of taking out the towers beside the gate but there were seven more to go. As I turned back, briefly, I noticed two more towers being hit by photon grenades. I bolted across the compound towards Mollen, firing at targets of opportunity as I went. Kowalski followed close behind, covering me every step of the way. Even on the ground, he wouldn't leave his wingman. Good! Maybe some of this training is finally sinking in. Explosions from the towers' phaser cannons detonated around us but, fortunately, none hit home. Stealth mode is nearly perfect when you're standing still but when you're moving, it's a different story. The H.I.C.S. system doesn't have enough time to make a perfect image around you before the image needs to be changed, so ripples and edges can show. The effect is like watching someone that is made of glass or water.

Mollen had headed past the landing field toward a group of low buildings. They were gray ferrocrete, with no markings on the outside except for a large number painted on the wall beside each door. Obviously they were barracks and Mollen was going to free the slaves within. I could see guards coming from everywhere. Jesus H. Christ! I thought. We are gonna get the royal, living shit kicked out of us if we don't get out of here fast! I started calling orders.

"Donaldson! Get to that hangar and take out their aircraft. Perak, Vorn, stay on those towers. Q'iang, Simmons, follow us in, cover Donaldson and then all three of you get back to the gate and cover our retreat. Concentrate on those buildings. Mollen, dammit!"

I finally caught up with him just outside the barracks building marked '6'. Our force fields, being auto-synced for first aid purposes merged seamlessly as I grabbed him, spun him around with as much force as I could muster and pinned him against the wall. "Mollen, what the hell are you doing?" I bellowed. "This is a recon mission, not a fucking assault! We're not equipped for this. We have to get out of here, now! He looked at me as if I was crazy.

"Colonel, those people are being tortured!"

I pulled him around the corner of the building and pinned him again. Kowalski spun around the corner and dropped to one knee to cover us. My opinion of him went up a notch. I knew he was more comfortable tinkering with an engine than ground-pounding with the rest of the grunts but he was a grunt himself and proud of it so he stepped up and did well enough when the chips were down. I turned back to Mollen and I could see that there was no reasoning with him. I set my phaser on maximum stun and made sure that he saw me do it.

"That is not our business Mister! Do you understand me?" I asked. "I know your history; all about your parents but we are on a RECON mission! Our primary objective is stealth! Does this look very stealthy to you?" I didn't wait for an answer, letting the obvious destruction going on around us make my point for me. "Now, we can get out of here one of two ways. Either we all go out fighting, or I stun you and carry you all the way back to H.Q. where you will be court-martialled for gross insubordination in the face of the enemy and drummed out of the Corps! Are you reading me Mister?" I yelled. Since this was only a simulation, the threat of a court-martial was empty but he didn't know that. My next decision—whether or not to keep him in my unit—would be based on his answer.

He seemed to regain some of his composure and straightened up. "Sir, yes sir!" he yelled back. I released him, took a half step back and decided that he wasn't a total loss but I would have to have words with him later.

"Very well then." I said. "Let's go!"

We moved out toward the gate. "Squad! Grab your ass and make it fast! We're outta here! Get airborne as soon as you're clear of the dampening field and meet up back at the rendezvous point. Don't be late." We ran full speed toward the gate firing all the way. I could hear the yelling and screaming of the compound security forces mobilizing. They were coming out after us but I didn't hear any engines, so they were following on foot. Good! I thought. We'll catch them off guard at the rendezvous point.

We picked up Perak and Simmons at the tree line. The jungle wasn't very dense; it consisted mainly of hundred meter tall trees that branched eccentrically at half-meter intervals, starting at about three meters above the ground. We had picked the densest part of it for our recon position but only the edge of the tree line had thicker undergrowth, extending only a few meters into the trees where the light could penetrate. The rest of the undergrowth further in was chiefly sparse ferns and grasses, probably held back from their full growth by the interlocking branches above, which didn't allow much light through to ground level. The jungle itself was only cut back about ten meters from the walls of the compound -- a pretty lousy way to set up a security perimeter. In any secure facility, the jungle would be cleared to at least one hundred meters from the perimeter of the compound. The way it was now, it covered our escape quite nicely.

As we made our way to the rendezvous point, I started thinking. This really was too easy. The generator pylons for the force fields should have been shielded too. It's too easy to knock out the fields that way. However, I didn't have time to dwell on it. Pursuit was only seventy-five meters behind us, and starting to close. I had to make sure that we got to the rendezvous point in time. "Mollen, Simmons, watch your spacing. Everyone, spread out. Twenty meters. Go."

It was a running battle all the way to the rendezvous point. As soon as we were clear of the dampening field, we got airborne but by that time, the guards had brought up land vehicles and kept up the pursuit. (So much for catching them off guard.) I saw my men manoeuvring wildly through the air, trying to avoid the blasts from the vehicles. Idiots! They're going to fry their flight controls using maneuvers like that! I didn't have time to tell them about it though because I had problems of my own, trying to evade the blasts coming at me.

That's it! I thought. Enough of this dicking around! "Squad! Listen up! Get altitude as fast as you can; straight up! Do it now! Computer, Jump!" Once we were all high enough to be beyond the range of the guards' weapons, I set my course for the beam-down point and instructed everyone to do the same; then we were off and flying. I could see that Kowalski was having problems with his flight controls but I hoped that he could make it.

--

I wrenched myself back to the present. My scans had revealed none of the hominid life forms present so I headed back to the skimmer. Once it was repaired, the ones who had fried their flight controls wouldn't slow us down. I was surprised when I checked the time and discovered that I had been ruminating for thirty mics. It was almost time to be going. When I got to the skimmer, Perak was waiting for me at the newly repaired hatch.

"Sir," he said. "The shield generator was not as badly damaged as it appeared so I was able to effect repairs more quickly than I had anticipated. I was about to go and assist in the repair of the plasma conduit."

"Very well," I said. "Get on it."

"Yes sir," he replied.

Suddenly, behind me, a section of trees shimmered and disappeared, replaced by a set of pressure doors. I turned at the sound just in time to see the doors parting and a man walking through the opening. He was a white-haired, balding man of about fifty-five or sixty, still young by twenty-fourth century standards. He carried himself with a calm dignity that projected a strength of character born of years of experience. The rest of the men had stopped what they were doing to stare at the man who had interrupted what by now (to my men) was obviously a simulation, without warning. Interrupting a holodeck simulation without warning was dangerous to the people running the simulation. In this case, it was also dangerous to the person doing the interrupting because we were pushing the safety protocols a bit. A person could get hurt, to say the least.

I could see the looks on their faces changing from shock to disbelief to anger and finally to acceptance and disappointment as each in turn realized that they were not on a real mission. Perak just looked at me with that ubiquitous raised eyebrow and Vorn's reptilian Gorn features, as usual, were unreadable.

"What the...?"

"No way!"

"Shit!"

"Another damned sim! Colonel..."

"Never mind Kowalski. All of you, secure that talk and get your shit together."

The man spoke. "Computah, freeze program."