The group walked into the command deck; Peter sat down into the chair, Laredo to his station, Lazarus to his familiar one that he noticed had the flat bottom unlike the rest of the crew members that had cushions (distractions were quite annoying for Mak'Tar) for them to be comfortable on. It has taken Lazarus years to appreciate the cushions (complete by buying furniture for his home) and now, he just finds himself rather comfortable sitting down on a flat distraction free surface. When T'Spol was a tot, she would wail and wail after being put on a flat surface such as a flat mattress until he put her on a small crib of spikes. She was out and fast asleep. It fascinated Lazarus how spikes were preferred even for Mak'Tar newborns.

Sitting down on a flat cold surface could have made Lazarus smile.

Pleased.

Happy.

Delighted.

T'Spol didn't care about the distractions in the house long as her room was empty. Her closet was behind the wall that could be activated by a simple fingerprint. It felt crowded in his home. Distracting. Some humans would say that Lazarus was deliberately making himself feel 'unhappy' on Earth. His quarters half was empty and half had furniture on Earth. But what really made him happy for fourteen years? Raising his little sister. His little sister had developed friendships on Earth, some of those who were alien or human, and it was pleasing to see her grow up before his eyes. Pleasing to watch her be shaped by those around her. Pleasing to watch her understand figure of speech quicker than he does understanding it, mostly because she had friends along her adolescent years. Kindergarten, middle school, and high school. What did Lazarus do in those fourteen years when she wasn't around?

Lazarus did a variety of activities that he prefers not to mention.

But most of which were preparing to teach T'Spol about their culture and history.

On the screen appeared Sarris.

"Ah," Sarris said. "I see my assassin did not take you out, Commander Taggart. "

"Why hello back to you," Peter said. "I trust you are well. We airlocked your assassin out," Tawny and Lazarus look over toward Peter stunned that he had casually mentioned killing someone. "Pretty dead."

Sarris took out a stick with the head of a Fatu-Krey on top.

Their attention returned to the screen.

Tawny and Laredo's faces turned into disgust.

Roc had his attention on the radar.

They were currently on Zeta Frequency to have this discussion with Sarris.

"I took out my lieutenant for not raising the shields up on time," Sarris said. "I hate having to retreat!" He tossed the stick to the side with a grunt. "I want the Omega-13."

"You see," Peter said. "I cannot do that." He leaned forward, hands on the arm rest, eyes narrowed. "It is not something you can pack into a box and hand over." He waved one hand in the air swaying it from side to side as he spoke. "It is the most dangerous, perhaps lethal, weapon in the galaxy capable of eliminating the existence of every living being out there." He lowered his hand. "It would not spare the one who has used it."

"And yet, you are still alive," Sarris said. "Why bother installing it when it is dangerous?"

"Someone had to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands." Peter said.

"I want the Omega 13," Sarris said. "Or I am coming over and getting it over your dead body."

Peter leaned back into the chair.

"No," Peter said. "That you will not."

"I am a general!" Sarris shouted. "I am the leader of the Sarris Dominion!"

Peter sighed.

"Which sounds lame by all accounts." Sarris growled and his eyebrow twitched. "I met aliens more badder than you who had their focus on species who were not severely below them constantly," Peter said. "You are the worst and the lowest of the low. If you want to get Omega 13 then you getting only scrap metal. I will not, ever, allow you to get your hands on it. In fact if you tried then your hands would be destroyed and so would you." Peter put one elbow on the arm rest with one finger on the side of his temple glaring at the ugly green being. "You can't get it out of the ship."

"I will get my way!" Sarris shouted, his wings of doom spread out and his fangs were shown.

Peter straightened himself lowering down his arm then looked over toward Tawny.

"Lieutenant." Peter said.

"Computer, end zeta communication." Tawny said.

Sarris vanished from the screen into darkness.

"Zeta frequency has been terminated." The computer replied.

"First blow is always the first." Peter said.

"We got a missile coming!" Roc shouted.

"Oh for pete's sake: fire at will!" Peter shouted, clearly annoyed Sarris got the first blow.

History started to unfold a lot like it did fourteen years ago. Peter had a strange sense of deja-vu, except, this time the generators were able to work and were not paralyzed. History will not repeat itself, Peter thought, not this time. He made the order to go into Thrust Drive. They had to get far as they could from Sarris. It had been years since he had been on a ship in thrust mode: his hands felt inclined to the arm rest, his legs felt stiff and numb, and his back was pressed against the back rest of the seat. The ship trembled. And then it tumbled right into the Tothian Mine field. Unfortunately the last missile from Sarris struck the command deck for the fifteenth time in a row but this time it injured Laredo.

"Hey, everyone, the ship is breaking apart and the generators can't take it. We have to get out of thrust mode."

"My arm!" Came Laredo's high pitch girly scream from beside his station.

Roc was terrified, to say for the least, and Lazarus was on the floor semiconscious. Tawny was unconscious with a bruise developing on her forehead. Peter saw only one option so he took it. The screen turned off to reveal the mine field. He quickly made it to Laredo's station that seemed to be half burned but still could pilot however the firing canons were immobilized. It was just his luck for this to happen on the Protector II. His hands wrapped around the handles and he carefully drove the ship through the field with the worst of luck. Long hard dents and scratches were created. He pressed the button that he had seen Laredo press and the thrust mode had stopped. It had enough power to get out of the field.

"Come on, old girl," Peter said. "Don't fail on me now."

He tilted the ship on its side carefully going through turning the handle as though it were a steering wheel straight out of the twenty-first century vehicle. Peter had one back on Earth that he occasionally drove when he was very, very bored. He was sweating, profusely, through his fingers. He actually pedalled to the metal meaning this was difficulty driving let alone sky diving from earth's atmosphere. And that sweating profusely happened to make his hands get slippery. Which leads to another logical event. He turned the ship forwards. One of the mines struck the ship sending it falling down into space. Peter saw they were in the clear, at least for now, and he heaved a sigh of relief. They should have a new rule on this ship.

Rule number-what-ever-the-hell-it-is: under no condition does Commander Taggart fly a starship.

The ship lost power in the thrusters.

Peter looked over from the station.

"Everyone okay?" Peter asked.

"My gills, they ache." Came Lazarus's voice as he propped himself up feeling dizzy and his vision somewhat blurry as a florescent light went off above him making a cackling sound.

"Oh my god,oh my god, oh my god!" Roc said, speeding over to Laredo's aid. "Are you okay, sweety?"

And in came the alarmed but otherwise fine Thermians.

"Thermians, get them to sick bay and treat their injuries," Peter said, earning a concerned look from Mathesar. "I am fine. I did not strain myself."

"Might I remind yoou-" Mathesar said, but Peter interrupted with a furrowed brow and his hand raised.

"Do not." Peter said.