Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. Tomb Raider and the situations therein are the property of Square Enix. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit. Stardates were calculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com and may be slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

Searchers

Solarii Communications Base: Brother John Briar's record: Monday, May 28, 2407, about half-past midnight:

Another ship has crashed on Yamatai. The upper bands of interference are dying away again. Already, we can triangulate the vessel's coordinates. Soon, we'll be able to receive more detailed data about the new crash from our sensor station on Island Four. I'll pass this information on to Father Matan. The vessel appears to be small, but if there are survivors then maybe one of these outsiders will be the one he's looking for…

A thin Romulan dressed in the worn remains of a uniform looked up from the Dominionese flickering on the monitor before him. "We've received preliminary data from the sensor station on Island Four, Brother John," he reported.

"Good, let me see it." John pulled on a headset, its band held together with medical tape and crude wire shunts. It still worked fine, though, displaying an aerial projection of the archipelago with the sensor data on the crash interposed. The map was over thirty years out of date and—as the Solarii had discovered the hard way a time or two—no longer wholly accurate when it came to coastlines and terrain details, but it still served its purpose. John smiled when he saw where the projection placed the crash site. "Right in our back yard." He glanced over at the Romulan, Brother Talar. "The ship went down less than a mile off the coast of the Main Island."

"Any idea what it is?" asked Talar.

John shook his head. "There was too much interference, but whatever it was, it was small. I'd say no more than a half-dozen aboard."

"Survivors?"

"Hard to say, Brother, hard to say." He took off the headset before it could give him a headache. "We need to contact Father Matan. He'll want to know about this, and may even want to use the transporter to check the scene himself."

"Shall I alert any hunting parties on the island as well?"

John eyed the Romulan askance and shook his head. "You really haven't been with us very long, have you, Brother?"

Talar was silent, but his brows furrowed and his face tinted green.

"For your information," John went on. "Father Matan never authorizes hunting parties for parts or heads to be sent out until after he's reviewed the crash himself, usually personally. Maybe it's the control, or maybe She really does speak to him. Whatever the case, he'll be the one to make the call on whether or not there's anything salvageable washed up from the wreck or if the survivors should be taken in, taken out, or left to Yamatai's mercy."

Talar's mouth quirked up. "As if it had any," he said. "Do you think it's safe, though, the Father alone against an unknown number of outsiders?"

John chuckled. "Of course it's safe. Matan is one tough Cardie, clever too, and besides that…well, you remember how you were when you first crashed, before they put you in the Pit, right?"

Talar's lips curled, but this time in a snarl. The Pit wasn't a pleasant memory for anyone, but it was a necessary one, if a man was to see the Light. "I remember," he said. "I was weak, confused, hurt, exhausted…I didn't stand a chance."

"Now you get the picture, Brother. Imagine six weak, wounded, starving survivors against Father Matan," said John, then he waved the subject away. "Come on, let's celebrate." He moved over to a pile of rubble in one corner of the room and removed a fragment of duracrete, revealing a small silver flask beneath it. He unsealed it and ran the opening under his nose and smiled before passing it to Talar. "Have a drink! It's bloodwine, 2375 vintage: a very good year for everyone—excepting the bastards to built this place."

"Well, the Oni saw to them, or so I hear from Brother Bru'Mar."

John frowned. "The less said about them, the better. Drink!"

Talar took a swig and passed it back. John gave a lopsided grin and raised the flask in toast. "Here's to Himiko, Queen Bitch of the Universe: may she get whatever it is she's after tonight!"

USS Nautilus: Shuttle One Crew, Senior Science Officer Carlin Agran's Log, Stardate: 81627.0

Our shuttle has crashed off-shore of an island on the north-eastern hemisphere of the M-Class planet we discovered inside the Dragon's Head Nebula. Antori, Dr. Mor, and I managed to make it to shore all together and set up a makeshift camp on a barren knoll above the beach, around a rock heated by phaser-fire. Dr. Mor's arm was injured, but not seriously. I was able to patch it up with the medkit from the shuttle. There's still no sign of Sam, though. I saw her just after the crash, in the water, but no one has seen her since. I know she made it ashore alive. I know she's alright. She has to be.

Carlin knelt in front of the glowing rock beside Antori and warmed her hands. "Well, I finally stopped the bleeding," she said wearily.

"The prognosis?"

"The patient will be fine." She glanced over to where Doctor Mor was fussing over the luggage he'd somehow managed to grab on his way out of the shuttle, and hold onto in spite of nearly drowning and having a shard of shrapnel graze an artery in his left arm. "He definitely put my bedside manner to the test."

"You're just out of practice," Antori assured her, smirking.

Carlin returned the smile and shook her head. "If you say so, Commander." She paused, while Antori used a short blast from his phaser to reheat the rock. "I could use some good news, though. Got anything?"

"The rain's stopped and the stars are coming out—or they would be if there were any visible through the nebula," said Antori. "As it is, the view is well worth the trip." He pointed up and Carlin gasped when her eyes followed the motion. She hadn't even noticed the night sky. The clouds had begun to scatter, and through the gaps the sky glowed with the iridescent plumes and streamers of the Dragon's Head Nebula, as seen from the inside.

"It's beautiful," she said, leaning a moment on his arm while she took it all in. Then she shook her head and forced herself to look back at her surroundings. "It's not worth losing a friend, though. Any luck finding Sam?"

Antori shook his head. "My combadge and tricorder are nearly useless at range. The shuttle's transponder beacon won't be much good either," he said. "It's the polaric energy field."

"Still?" She pulled out her tricorder and ran a scan of her own. He was right: there were still significant levels of polaric radiation interfering with scans of more than a few meters. "It shouldn't still be here. Come to think of it, it shouldn't be here at all."

"You said the ion storm was generating it."

"I did, and it was the only logical explanation I could think of at the time, but it's highly unusual for an ion storm to produce even trace amounts of polaric energy…and this is more than a trace." She glanced back up at the clearing sky. "Not to mention the fact that the ion storm has obviously moved on and left us with a clear view of the nebula—but the polaric radiation isn't decreasing."

"Got any theories?"

Carlin shook her head. "Maybe it's a natural phenomenon unique to this planet, though I can't imagine what would cause it, much less allow such unstable energy to stick around."

"Could it be artificial, then?" asked Antori.

Carlin frowned, but nodded.

"I thought as much," said Drel. "Polaric energy usage and testing has been banned by treaty since the Chaltok IV disaster over a century ago, but there's no telling whether or not crash survivors living here will honor that or any other treaty. We need to be careful."

"And we need to find Sam," she added.

"You're sure you saw her leave the shuttle?"

"I saw her in the water, but I lost her when a wave hit both of us," said Carlin. "She didn't appear to be injured though, and she's a better swimmer than I ever was. She made it out of the crash alright, and she must have made it ashore. We should search the beach."

Antori shook his head. "Out of the question."

"But we're not leaving her behind!"

"I never said we were," said Antori. "We can't stay on the beach, though. We may be above the high-tide mark, I'm honestly not sure, but there's still no telling when another storm will whip up, and you can see pieces of debris washed up all over this knoll. We have to head inland. If Sam's smart, that's where she's headed already, and that's where we'll find her."

Carlin frowned and fiddled with her hair, but nodded. She didn't like delaying the search for her shipmate and old friend, but she understood the necessity. She turned her attention to the landscape inland. Cliffs loomed before her. "Any ideas on our route?"

"There's a slope that leads up to a broad ledge halfway up that cliff." He pointed. "It looks like it heads inland at that plateau over there, where the upper cliff ends. It's our best bet, and it's accessible from most points on the beach. If Lieutenant Hayashi made it ashore here, she'll probably be following the same route."

"The ledge route it is then," she said. "Do you want to get our guest of honor, or shall I?" She motioned to Doctor Mor, who appeared to be shaking sea water out of his holo-recorder.

"You take a moment to rest and gather together your medkit," he said, patting her on the back as he rose. "I'll get the Doctor."

It took Carlin less than two minutes to reorganize her medkit and the one Drel had taken with him. After that, she had time to take stock of the emergency supplies he'd managed to grab on his way out, which included the shuttle's transponder beacon, rations, fire-starters, emergency blankets and other essentials. She smiled at the thought of having a man so prepared taking care of her. I should make it a permanent arrangement, she thought, glancing over her shoulder, to where he was arguing, exasperated, with a Ferengi who seemed insistent that he bring every single piece of luggage he'd had on the shuttle with him. She looked away again, tugging at a strand of auburn hair. Maybe after we're rescued, back on Nautilus, she told herself. Our two-year dating anniversary would be perfect. She would have to replicate a suitable ring. It wasn't really a part of Trill tradition, but humans still used it, and several other races had picked up on the custom. She knew Antori Drel had inherited up a sense of fondness for Earth traditions and culture from Drel's previous host, Perciv, who'd spent decades working at Utopia Planetia and Starfleet Command. She thought he would appreciate it.

"Carlin? Are you ready?" asked Antori, startling her as he picked up his pack.

She blinked and threw her pony-tail back over her shoulder. "Yes, of course!" She picked up her medkit and joined him and Dr. Mor on the hike up to the ledge, trying to put her thoughts of the relationship behind her.

The terrain helped. It was rocky and littered with debris, and the one thing Antori had apparently forgotten to pack was a SIMs beacon. "I knew I forgot something," he confessed, trying to lead them along the clearest path using the light of the glowing nebula as a guide. Fortunately, the ground cleared as they made their way up onto the ledge itself, but then they ran into a problem. A shallow ravine cut through the cliff, creating a gap in the ledge several meters across. The only way to cross the ledge seemed to be a fallen log, which looked none too steady.

"We need to get rid of any unnecessary weight and make our packs as small as possible," said Antori. He was looking at Dr. Mor.

"What?" the Ferengi demanded. He patted the packs. "This is my life's work! I'm not abandoning it."

"Are the files all backed up?"

"Of course they are!" said Mor.

"Then they're not worth your life," said Antori. "If you try to cross that log with them, you'll fall into the ravine—and I will not have your death on my conscious, not if I can instill a little common sense to avoid it."

Mor huffed. "And why don't you lighten your pack then, hmm?"

Antori glared at the Ferengi. He pulled the medkit roughly out of his pack and handed it to Carlin. "See if you can get all the supplies to fit in one kit. Right now it's the heaviest thing in my pack." He looked back at Mor. "And it is an essential useful to our survival. Can you say the same about your luggage?"

"But how would I decide…" the little man moaned, seeming distraught.

"Let me help you," said Antori. While Carlin sorted through the medkits in the dark and tried to make everything fit in one kit, he rummaged through Dr. Mor's things, throwing useless items and—in many cases—entire packs aside, much to the Ferengi's dismay. In the end, though, he consented to cross the log with only a single pack, which contained mostly clothes and cans of jellied gree-worms. Carlin supposed those counted as food, though she'd personally rather live off emergency rations for the rest of her life than eat one.

When they were all ready, Antori crossed the log first with his pack. Dr. Mor crossed next, and-though she was afraid he would slip and fall a couple times-he managed alright. Carlin came next with the medkit. The log shifted with her weight with every step, but she took it slow and was able to maintain her balance. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was on the other side and then the three of them moved on, continuing until they reached the plateau. There, the cliff face on their left side fell away and the land on that side opened up into a rocky wooded valley, bounded by steep cliffs on two sides and the slopes of a mountain further inland.

Carlin surveyed the landscape and caught herself tugging at her hair. She made herself stop. "Where do you think Sam would have gone from here?" she asked.

"Into the valley somewhere," Antori said. "I can hear water down there, so there must be a stream. It would be a good place to set up camp, especially if her supplies were limited."

"I don't see any signs of habitation from here," said Dr. Mor, "but there are some ruins on the slope of that mountain. We should head there."

"Agreed, the mountain will make for a better camp, more easily visible from the air," said Antori.

"But if Sam's somewhere in the valley-"

"We'll find her," he assured. "We'll camp here for the rest of the night, get some sleep, and then in the morning we'll head through the valley. We can split up to cover more ground, and then rendezvous at the ruins at the top of that cliff there." He pointed. "Those should be clearly visible from any point in the valley, so we won't get lost."

Carlin nodded and helped Antori set up camp. Dr. Mor even pitched in by arranging a ring of stones for a camp fire—though of course he made the ring too small and Antori wound up having to redo it. Soon, though, they got a small fire going and Dr. Mor picked a nearby spot in the grass and fell quickly asleep. Antori saw it and looked to Carlin. "You should get some rest, too," he said.

She lay down carefully near the fire, but her eyes were on Antori. He was still pacing, looking out into the night. "What about you?" she asked. She recognized his look. "You're worried about the possibility of hostile survivors from other crashes, aren't you?"

"I could have swore we were being followed there for a little bit." He shook his head. "Whoever it is doesn't want to be seen, and is pretty good at hiding—if they're out there at all, that is." He gave her a reassuring smile. "It's probably nothing. Get some sleep."

"And if it isn't?"

He shrugged. "I've got a phaser from the shuttle, and you know I can take care of myself."

It was true. He could do more than simply take care of himself. She had seen his weekly training on the holodeck, and participated in a few of his tamer sessions. If there were any hardened, hostile survivors on this island, they had best be wary of him. "Just remember, my promise still stands: if you go and get your neck snapped trying to wrestle a Gorn in real life, I will kill you, especially if you have the nerve to die on me."

He chuckled. "I'll be sure to make a note to avoid such encounters in my log, Lieutenant," he said. "Now get to sleep. That's an order."

Carlin smiled and settled her head onto her hands. "Yes, sir."

Author's Note: My first bad-guy POV section! I had considered doing without them, since they don't appear in the game, but I thought I would use them to make up the lack of "documents" and "relics" that add flavor and backstory to the game. I also thought it would be useful for filling in some of the unexplained things from the game.

The Solarii are a group in the game, and I'll be sticking pretty close in my portrayal of them here, excepting making them all alien-survivor cultists, of course! There are lots of references in their section that may not make sense until later. The Oni are a group in the game, and I'll be portraying them even more faithfully than the Solarii, given who and what they are. Father Matan is the Cardassian (or "Cardie"—as is the slang term for them used several times by O'Brian in DS9) version of Father Mathias from Tomb Raider. The Solarii are using Earth dates rather than Stardates for their records for reasons that will hopefully become more apparent later on.

Brother John's profane reference to Himiko is almost an exact quote of a drunken Solarii from the game. The mooks will say a lot of things, talking, interacting, and giving away details of foreshadowing if the player will wait patiently in ambush for them to finish their dialogue before ruthlessly slaughtering them all (hey, they are mooks!).

Carlin is out of practice with her bedside manner, presumably, because she hasn't worked in sickbay since the end of the events of "The Best Revenge" almost two years ago. Antori Drel was first seen "training" by fighting a Gorn in chapter 3 of the same story, though he did not attempt to wrestle it.

A SIMS beacon is the wrist-light that appeared several times in Voyager. Gree-worms were a Ferengi food mentioned in DS9.