<<Stardate 47307.16-14:50-Brig>>

The piercing sound of the red alert brought the endless nightmare back to Jarel's mind. The Saratoga, as well as half of Starfleet, were taking a beating at the hands of the Borg at Wolf 359 and the Captain had just given the evacuation order over the ship's 1MC. Then the red alert lights had began to flash throughout the ship as well as the blaring of the alarm. In all corners of the Saratoga, emergency crews were manning their stations and were bracing for the mass of frightened people that would be rushing their way.

As a Lt.(jg), Jarel was the ranking officer in the science lab at the time, and as such, it was his responsibility to ensure that the civilian scientists in the lab crew he headed made it to the escape vessels safely. In the red lights of the lab, Jarel gathered his group, but before leading them into the passageways, Jarel had one last thing to do.

=^=Ensign Deshaine, do you read me? =^=

=^=Deshaine here. =^=

Angeline's voice was quivering slightly, but with what was going on around them, he was surprised his own voice was as steady as it was.

=^=Jarel, Lt. Cmdr Rollins is taking us to shuttle bay three. I'll wait as long as I can for you, but if worse comes to worse, know that I love you and I will always be with you. =^=

Tapping his badge to answer, the ship jolted and the voice of the XO came over the 1MC.

=^= This is Commander Thomas, Captain Brighten is dead and as such, I am hereby assuming command. All hands are ordered to expedite to the nearest emergency escape vessels and evacuate the ship. I repeat all hands are ordered to evacuate by the nearest emergency escape vessel. =^=

The shaking of the ship as it took another shot from the Borg cube drowned the ending of his statement out. Trusting his wife of three months would be fine, Jarel took one last quick around at his group and seeing they were ready walked towards the door. Opening the doors into the Science Lab, the sight before him could have come straight out of the book of Revelations . People were running by him screaming and crying ,while all around them the ship burned mocking the futile efforts by her crew to stop it. Pushing his fears to the back of his mind, he and his group of civilians plunged into the waiting inferno and were instantly swallowed by the sea of people in the passageway. Acidic smoke bit into his eyes and seared his lungs with each breath, but the thought of letting his crew and Angeline down gave him a focus to block out the discomfort.

Suddenly, the ship rocked to one side as the shields fell and the pure destructive force of the Borg's phasers tore into the starboard of the ship. Grabbing a fallen officer ,who had been knocked unconscious by the blast, he ran with the crowd toward the haven of shuttle bay three .Then the illusion of Hell was shattered and Jarel knew he really was in Hell.

The first of the Borg beamed aboard as Jarel turned his refugees over to the waiting arms of the evacuation team. With their metallic parts fused into a deathly pale skin, they looked like harbingers of the Apocalypse and in reality they were. Clutching people in their cold embrace, they beamed out as quickly as they beamed in. Grabbing a phaser from the craft he was in and leveling it at one emerging Borg, he thumbed the setting to kill and prayed that they hadn't adapted all ready to the setting that the phaser was tuned at. The shot struck the monstrosity in its chest and with a detached look upon its face it toppled to the ground and laid there unmoving.

The ship rocked again as the pods began to take off from the doomed ship. Hoping to be heard above the masses around him, Jarel tapped his comm badge to check on Angeline.

=^=Ensign Deshaine do you read me? =^=

"Sir, you are going to have to go back into the craft now, it is about to depart."

Whipping around to the voice that spoke to him, he saw a Sec officer behind him with a nervous look on his face. Seeing that the craft was almost loaded, and would be filled soon, Jarel decided ask one last question before loading.

=^=Computer, has Ensign Angeline Deshaine evacuated the ship at this time. =^=

"Ensign Deshaine is not registered in any of the thirteen escape crafts that have left the ship."

Grabbing his comm badge and ignoring all standard protocol he shouted:

=^=Angeline this is Jarel do you hear me? =^=

His only response was the screaming of those around him as the ship took another blow and an order by phaser point by the Sec officer to board the escape vessel.

"I'm not leaving without Angeline", he screamed back in the Sec's face and whipping back around he screamed into the computer:

=^=Computer, state location of Ensign Angeline Deshaine. =^=

"Ensign Deshaine is not onboard this vessel."

The next question died on his lips as an explosion rocked the ship and pain flared through Jarel's back. The blast had dislodged a vent cover above the terminal and before he could react, sliced through his uniform and down his back. In the last few seconds of his consciousness, he looked into the eyes of the Security officer and whispered ,"...don't leave her..."

"Is there anything I can do that will mean anything to you, Jarel?" The question was perhaps the dumbest thing that Jarel had ever heard. He was sitting in a jail cell while his wife was waiting to be dissected like a frog in a high school biology class and this guy wants to know if he can help. Jarel wanted to scream out that hell yes he could help. He could take back to the science lab give him his wife and take this ship and everyone in it and shove up their collective asses.

However, he knew such actions would do him no good right now, so he gave the Lt. what he hoped was his best screw you look and answered him back.

"No warden, three hots and a cot is all I need from any of you."

Not knowing how his answer was going to affect his visitor, he was surprised when the man answered without a trace of anger or annoyment as he looked away.

"There have been occasions where Borg have been reclaimed. Picard of the Enterprise being the most obvious example."

'Why must Starfleet dick me around all the time like this',

Jarel thought. After the body tally had been compiled on the Saratoga it was discovered that a total thirty-seven people had been abducted from the ship. It wasn't until the Enterprise rescued the infamous Jean-Luc Picard that it realized that such a thing was possible.

Suddenly all the sleeping Borgs that could be grabbed were and Angeline was one of them. If Starfleet would have told him that his wife was one of the ones harvested, Jarel would have burned every favor he had as a civilian scientist to get assigned to work with her, but no, the bastards kept it from him and he had to discover her quite by accident as he was adding the finishing touches to the Grail's Science Lab. If only that last scientist would have been unconscious, he and Angeline would have been long gone, but now he would have to figure something else out.

Planning was always his strongest area, and if he could get a little bit of sympathy from someone on the other side of these four walls... "Why are you saying that?", he asked daring the man not to look him in the eyes.

The Lt turned to face him and shrugged as he answered.

"A lot of things can happen.", was his reply.

Jarel was caught off guard by his answer and Jarel knew that there was more to this man than met the eye. 'If there is anyone on the ship I should start smoothing things out with it will be this one, but in the mean time I got to get smarter on who else is out there, and I sure as hell can't do it from in here.'

"Just sit tight, don't do anything stupid and we'll see what happens out here, OK?"

Jarel saw the look in the man's eyes and wondered if he was thinking what I'm thinking. Feeling his heart race in his chest as the things he needed to do began ticking themselves off in his mind. Jarel nodded an agreement to the Lt. and began tuning out the rest of his environment as his next plan began to form.

Only the faint hiss of the door made him aware that he was alone.

The first thing he needed to do was get to see the Captain, but with the flurry of activity that was going on, he was sure that that particular request was not going happen any time soon. He felt sure that if he could explain the situation to him he would understand, and if not, well, other measures would have to be considered.

Smiling to himself, Jarel pondered that last thought. Was he really the same man that he was when Angeline was with him. Before he was a devout Southern Baptist whose thoughts were only on doing his duty for Starfleet and making a good life for Angeline and him. Now, he could only doubt the existence of a greater being of goodness that allowed beings such as the Borg to exist. Scratching at the five o'clock shadow that was rapidly appearing on his gaunt face, Jarel rose from the cot and walked to the mirror in his cell.

His raven hair was starting to prematurely go gray, and crows feet were already forming on the edges of his blue eyes. Splashing some water onto his face to clear his thoughts, the door opened in Security and the female security officer who was watching him earlier stepped back into the room. Wiping off his face with a towel beside the small vanity, he decided to try his hand at conversation with her.

"If you don't mind me inquiring, what's your name Lt?"

She gave him the same kind of look that Jarel had seen on the Klingon who had nailed him earlier this evening with the phaser. It was the look he gave his Keeshound when it pissed in the middle of his house back home. It was a look that said "if you try me I'll drop you were you stand." Refusing to break down like they are expecting him to, Jarel tried again.

"I'm quite sure that you already know my name, former rank, and that I am a big bad bandit who tried to wreck the ship." The last phrase was laced with over dramatized hand gesture. Seeing that he had her attention for the moment, Jarel pressed on.

" Am I correct in assuming that my record is now being passed around to all of the department heads so that they may get a better grasp on how to deal with me", at that he paused to see if any reaction registered in her eyes. Seeing none he continued, "but I am in the dark as to who I am addressing. I see my old rank on your collar, but that still doesn't tell me whom I am speaking with. If it makes you feel better I can start the ball rolling, I am Jarel Deshaine 124-71-9039, former assistant science officer on the Saratoga. I even had the distinct pleasure of being there for the christening of the new Saratoga last year. I graduated the class of 2367 and went straight to the 'Toga from there. You know what happened to the Saratoga there, but here is a little something that they didn't teach you at the academy. Do you know that minutes before the Saratoga exploded, the Borg began grabbing people left and right?"

He could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't impressed in the least by his story, so he went for the personal side of the uniform.

One of the people they "collected" was a junior ensign by the name of Angeline Parrish. She was as smart as she was beautiful and the sky was the limit for how far she could go. Mathematics came to her like breathing comes to you and I, and already she was impressing the engineers with her ideas on warp engines and how to tweak them into better performance ratings. She met and fell for a bookish guy who wouldn't know a warp coil from a hair curler. A year later they were married, and three months after that she was taken away from him. He was wounded, by a falling piece of debris from the killing blow by the Borg ship and was dragged away to the escape ship by a security officer much like yourself."

He paused as his voice began to thicken as the memories of the event threatened to overwhelm him, and regaining control he continued.

"The bastards in Starfleet wouldn't even tell him if she was alive or dead. Her own husband, the man who loved her more than life itself and they still wouldn't tell him SHIT. After his discharge, he drank for awhile and guess what, it didn't do anything but make it worse. He would wake up screaming her name at night, and the dreams he had. Oh trust me, you wouldn't wish them on your worst enemy. Continually thinking that he was the cause of her being missing can do some strange stuff to your head, and for about a year and a half he was a wreck. Then he got a single message that would change his world.

Starfleet offered him a job designing the science labs on a new deep space exploration ship. Something about tracking some other ship and they wanted his expertise. What expertise, he had been out of the field for almost two years, and besides he was a researcher not an architect, but it would bring him back to the people who kept him in the dark for so long and that was what he wanted. Then one day it happened, while he was finishing setting up specimen holders, he asked one of the temporary science officers what was to be stored in the unit. With a conspiratal whisper, he told him of the plan of bringing a live Borg specimen onto the ship. You see, people will confide in civilians much more than they should and as the man worked the following morning he saw the specimen. It was female with one half of her face covered with metallic faceplates. Instantly he recognized the brown half moon birthmark that was still evident on her pale features and dropping the tray in his hand he spoke her name", Jarel's voice was almost a whisper as he spoke the name aloud for the officer to hear, "Angeline..."

"I was wrong for the way I attempted to rescue her, but I am not sorry in the least for that I did make an attempt. I am only sorry that I did not succeed. Let me ask you this, what kind of man would I have been if I would have just sat back and allowed my wife to be cut apart and studied as if she was nothing more than an inanimate object for the bastards at Starfleet to play around with. I will not allow that to happen, do you understand me Lt. I WILL NOT!

Wheeling around he as he proclaimed his defiance, Jarel drew back his fist and slammed it into the wall behind him with all of the pent-up frustration that had been building since his capture, pain flared red hot throughout his arm, and he knew right away that the hand was broken. He could almost picture the look on Angeline's face if she ever found out that he had taken up Klingon martial arts to channel his frustrations. He could also hear her laughter if she saw him now clutching his hand in a jail cell that was designed to resist stronger men then he would ever be. The imagined sound brought a smile to his face through the pain, and as he turned back around, he saw his guard looking at him with a new look upon her face. Gone was the look of contempt and in its place was a look of careful neutrality.

"Lt (jg) Ryes, Jhari Ryes. We better do something about your hand before Castle thinks I've been abusing our first prisoner."

When she spoke the smile on Jarel's face grew slightly, and he began to think he might get to his angel after all...

Blake Crowell aka Jarel Deshaine