--Scene: Transporter room, USS LYNX

Jarek felt a little awkward wearing his thick, heavy protection suit. He slid the bulky helmet over his head and fastened it in place with a *clunk.*

"Are you sure this is completely necessary?" he asked Lt. Jones. It was a rhetorical question.

"This is the best way to protect yourself from the touch of the Purifiers," the dark-skinned security guy answered. "And it'll prevent high exposure to the radiation coming from their ship's reactor, as well. So, I'm afraid, yes, it is completely necessary." He smiled wryly - the first time Jarek had seen the large human do so.

The Moropa picked up his specially-modified tricorder and the three transport enhancers he needed before stepping onto the transporter pad and waiting for instructions.

Jones' commbadge beeped. [Malaar to Jones.]

"Jones here, sir."

[We drop out of our time-shift in 90 seconds. Get ready.]

"Understood." He looked at Jarek, and the Moropa could see was trying to get his head round the idea that he'd just been talking over the comm to the same man as standing right in front of him.

Jarek counted the seconds.

And then Jones hit the energiser control, dropping him straight into the action.


--Stardate 12.1007.1509
--Scene: USS HORIZON, Bridge

Three flaring dots streaked from the HORIZON's underbelly and plowed into the exposed weakness into the hull of the Purifier ship. Explosions rippled all over the enemy vessel.

"They're heavily damaged. Their shields are down," Dennett was calling out. "So are weapons... propulsion... communication."

"Excellent work everyone. Let's move on to the other two," Tergin praised. "Let's hope our luck continues."

Malaar felt relieved that the situation didn't seem to be getting out of hand. At least there was a positive attitude on the bridge. Of course, in Jarek's experience, that usually meant that things were about to change for the worse...

*Don't be so cynical,* he scorned himself. He glanced down on the readout on his helm console and was surprised at what he saw.

"Captain, I'm reading another Federation engine signiture, very close by."

"Is it the DAKOTA?" Dhalit asked.

"I can't tell... it's too close - we should be able to see it, but there's nothing there.." He shrugged, baffled by his readouts. It almost looked like a cloaked vessel, but that didn't make sense.

"We haven't got time to do any investigating right now," Tergin stated. "If it's the DAKOTA, they'll let us know. Malaar, set an intercept course for the second vessel."

"Aye sir," Jarek responded. His fingers flew over the controls. He frowned, confused. Maybe the Federation signiture was just a sensor echo. But he didn't like unsolved mysteries...


--Scene: Aboard the disabled Purifier ship

Jarek's suited figure sparkled into existence within an empty corridor. Immediately, he whipped out his tricorder.

"I'm on the primary habitation deck," he spoke quietly. "My tricorder isn't picking up anything out of the ordinary."

[Tune your tricorder for chroniton emissions only,] future-Malaar's voice filtered through his earpiece. [Then you'll be able to home in on it without the rest of the inferference. Oh, and you don't have to whisper, by the way.]

The Moropa grinned to himself. He glanced around him. There was nobody about. "I'm only picking up minimal life signs. They're only carrying a skeleton crew." He stepped forward and made his way down the narrow corridor.

"Are you sure it's here?"

[Positive. It's definitely on *this* ship. Probably near the command centre.]

"Right," he breathed. "I'm heading there now."

The ship was a maze of narrow passageways with arched roofs and curved corners. It reminded him of a monastery, of sorts. The light level was very low, and some things were hard to make out. Jarek used his tricorder to guide him towards the command centre of the giant, pyramid-shaped vessel. He still felt a little strange wearing such a bulky protection suit, but if it was completely necessary...

He moved quickly around a bend and ran headlong into a large man, sending them both tumbling to the floor. The man was well-built and had the absent look in his yellow eyes that told the officer he'd been brainwashed, just like the others.

They both scrambled to their feet. The suit was heavy, and Malaar found it difficult to get up.

"Purification is Glorious!" the man announced, and put both hands upon his shoulders.

He felt nothing, the protective suit shielding him from the psychic attack of the Purification. He moved swiftly back onto his feet and drove a fist hard against the side of the man's head, propelling him against the wall. The man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Jarek took a deep breath and felt his heart rate recover. "This suit of yours really works," he spoke into his comm.

[We know. It's been perfected over two years,] came the reply. [Keep moving...]

"Okay, okay."

He was getting near the bridge. He glanced at his tricorder and saw the chroniton readout increasing. Then a thought popped into his head. "Um, what does this thing actually look like? I mean, how *big* is it?"

[Oh. Well, from what I've been told, it's crystalline in structure, and I'm guessing it'll be small enough to carry by hand.]

"I hope you're right."

The Moropa approached a large double sliding door, presumably leading to the command centre. He knew that beyond it was where most of the surviving Purifiers were. And inside was where he had to go. *It's a good job this ship is disabled or I'd probably be dead by now,* was the thought that rushed through his head as he hit the control and the large doors screeched open, metal against metal.

The first thing that hit him was the stench, that he could smell even through the thick layers of his suit. Seven faces all turned to look at him, deadpan. They were all perfectly calm, which unnerved him. Two of the them rushed towards him and grappled him tightly, but he managed to get free from their grip - they obviously didn't expect any resistance once they'd touched someone. He was caught off guard by a punch to the stomach, winding him badly. The tricorder fell from his hand.

Then somebody kicked him in the groin, where - stupidly - the fabric of the protective suit seemed to be at its thinnest. He let out a muffled cry of pain and crouched to the ground.

[Don't stop!] future-Malaar yelled in his ear. [Keep going! Beat it!]

He blinked and renewed his focus, dragging himself to his feet and successfully deflecting two more punches. He swung round and delivered a high kick to the side of the head of one of them, sending him flying to the ground. Without pausing for breath he span on his feet and head-butted the other, causing the outside of his helmet to fracture. *Oops,* he thought.

Wasting no time, he snapped up the tricorder into his hand and scanned the readout. The segment of the precious weapon was inside the main OPS console, central to the room. Jarek pulled the pattern enhancers off his back and set them up around it, activating the fields they generated.

"Right, I'm ready! Do you have a lock?"

[Affirmative,] came the response. [Energising...]

Jarek turned around to take one last look at the room he was in before beamout, when saw another one of them storming towards him. He appeared to be the CO of the ship, and was certainly the source of the stench. His flaking scalp appeared to be alive with crawling insects... not the most pleasant of sights. He held a dangerous-looking weapon with a sharp-edged blade.

Malaar barely dodged the first swipe of the blade. He delivered a blow to the chest and sent the man staggering back, but he kept on coming. In the precious seconds, he grabbed the deactivated pattern enhancers.

The Purifier slashed him across the chest. No physical damage, but there was a large, open gash across the front of the protective suit.

"I'm ready for beam-out!" he yelled into his commlink. "*Now!*" The man reached out to the hole to touch him, but as he did, the Moropa was claimed by the transporter beam and dissolved into a sparkle of atoms.


--Scene: Transporter Room, USS LYNX

Jarek breathed a sigh of relief. "That was a little too close for comfort," he said to himself. He stepped off the transporter pad and pulled off his helmet, glancing down at the gash across the chest-plate his protective suit. His future self was waiting here, giving a congratulatory smile.

"Well done," he said. "We've got the first segment in storage. Thank you." His grin broadened. "I bet you want to get out of that suit, hmm?"

The Moropa nodded enthusiatically. "Oh, yeah," he confirmed. He followed the LYNX's CO out of the room, leaving Lt. Jones at the console.

"Well, I've prepared some quarters for you on deck 3," continued future-Malaar. "They're nothing quite so luxurious as your HORIZON quarters, so don't expect anything amazing. I'd like to see you at the conference room for briefing at 1900 hours, please. By the way, our next time-journey will take place in five minutes."

Malaar couldn't help but grin as his future counterpart spoke as if he was sticking to a script. "I can tell you're used to giving orders," he mentioned. He didn't want to be seen as just another officer to be ordered around. "Go easy on me, okay? I am you, after all."

Future-Malaar grunted with amusement. "If you say so. But this is my ship, and I'm still the acting CO. If a choice needs to be made, I expect you to follow orders." He wore an apologetic smile. "It'll make things a whole lot easier."

Jarek nodded. "Right. I think I can handle that."

"See you at 1900 hours."


--Scene: Jarek's allocated quarters

His future self had been right, these quarters weren't much. They were small and bare by modern standards, with only a couple of windows out into space. Jarek collapsed onto the small mattress of his bed and tried to collect his chaotic thoughts. This was a very unusual situation he'd been placed into... he only hoped he would get out of this in one piece. Of course, by the logics of temporal mechanics, seeing as it was his own future self who captained this vessel, he *had* to get out of this alive. But that cold, scientific thought didn't provide much emotional comfort.

He missed his wife. He missed her warmth and her kindness of heart. He found himself yearning to see her flash her charming smile and see the twinkle in her soft, brown eyes.

But he knew that was impossible. He knew deep down that his best bet was to focus on the here-and-now, but also knew he was torn between his obligation to help, and his deep need to feel completely safe, at home.

He wanted to go home, to the HORIZON. The sooner this mission was over, the better.

Jarek looked to the small window and saw the stars begin to smudge as the ship moved beyond light-speed and into D-warp space. The black of night turned to a rainbow swirl of many different colours. It was a captivating sight, and for the next few moments he simply lay motionless, watching as the LYNX travelled through space-time to her next destination.


--Scene: USS HORIZON, Bridge

Jarek was still puzzled by the phantom engine signiture, even as he moved the HORIZON through evasive manuevers, dodging the energy rings of the second Purifier ship. He glanced down to check the readout again. Yes, it was still there. It was definitely a Federation ship... but invisible? Starfleet didn't use cloaks, as far as he knew.

And then it was gone.

The Moropa blinked. He couldn't believe it. It had just vanished without a trace, as if it hadn't been there at all.

*One small mystery...* he said to himself, and snapped back into focus as the HORIZON came under attack of the Purifiers once again.