~\\_               
          \\\\_             
          `\\\\\            -----------------------------------------
           |\\\\\           Starfleet Command, Eighth Fleet (OOC)    
            \\\\\|__.-~~\   
         _--~         ~~/   Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"  
       /~         _-~~~'    Embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901   
      ('-//////-//          Vice Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor, Commanding 
       ////// }}-)          -----------------------------------------
     /////~                 Simulation Teaser                        
  _///~                     Stardate 240307.19                       
 `                          
 _______________________________________________________________________ 
/ Simulation Teaser                                                     |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ 

 It was a little like being a stage actor.  Once the Wraith was
 actually in combat, all doubts... all fears... all other concerns
 were swept away.  Tebrun Lora rode on a wave of adrenaline, fighting
 Redeemer into the tear.

 Fighters surrounded the larger craft, but Tebrun was only vaguely
 aware of them.  Marine combat training took over, automatically
 designating these as friendlies, those as hostiles.  His brain
 interpreted the combat chatter from the fighters escorting him... kept
 track of which hostiles would be taken care of for him, which ones
 he'd have to take a personal hand in.  Another part of his brain
 automatically kept track of the number of micro-torpedoes left in the
 sling just as it had once kept track of the number of rounds left in
 a rifle.  Once a Marine, always a Marine.

 Redeemer flew as if Tebrun's very thoughts guided the Wraith, and his
 hands moved of their own volition over the weapons console, blasting
 his path clear.

 The new voice, when it came, was an intruder.

 ||There is still time.  Follow me.||

 Tebrun ignored it at first.  He was only minutes from the tear now and
 the flying was becoming more complicated, the graviton fields
 buffeting the craft this way and that.  The more damaged of his
 escorts fell back, unable to continue, and the part of his brain that
 was registering the number of hostiles in the area warned him that a
 larger and larger number of the Xur fighters were taking an interest
 in Redeemer.

 ||Leave the craft to me.  Stand up.  Go aft.  I will guide you.||

 The voice was familiar, and though Tebrun retained few memories from
 the Kor symbiont, he retained this one {{Gregg}} but the identity of
 the voice was not only impossible, it was irrelevant.  He had a job to
 do, and he was going to do it.  Not every Marine got a chance to save
 the uni--

 The tear was enormous now; it filled the Wraith's screens and Tebrun
 didn't even realize that his perspective of it was was askew until he
 realized he was standing behind the cockpit seats.  The Wraith was
 flying itself and as he watched, a string of micro-torpedoes appeared
 before the craft, destroying a Xur fighter in his path.

 ||You know me.  You have always been part of us.  This fight with the
 Enemy is over, and a new one about to begin.  I will guide you.||

 Tebrun hurried.  He could recall making this journey before, in
 incredible pain, and his body must be feeling that pain now, but it
 did not reach him.  Trill could normally hear their own heartbeats,
 but all Tebrun heard was this voice, urging him on, urging him to
 hurry.  He passed the small sleeping quarters, went aft, further aft,
 into the engineering spaces.  The plasma vents were already opened. 
 He must have opened them from the cockpit, but had no memory of doing
 it.

 ||You will know what to do.  I will guide you.||

 As the Wraith disintegrated around him, the Liberator energy matrix
 firing into the tear, shattering it the plasma destroying his own body
 the one voice became many and tebrun had time for a final thought

 ||I am the spear in the heart of my Enemy.||

 And he knew the thought to be true because of the way the Spindle held
 it, for no untrue thought could hold its shape here.

\_______________________________________________________________________ 
\ End Simulation Teaser                                                 |
 ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ 

 *Former* Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone" Staff:
    Civilian, Retired Admiral: Tebrun Lora Kor           (Jester)
    S-1, Group Adjutant:       Capt. Sieven Drexler      (Brad)
    Commander, RSS Blackrazor: Capt. Jarod Bentall       (Alffred)
    ????????:                  Capt. Savant              (Savant)
    ????????:                  Brig. Jeremy Ironside     (Fraser)

 U.S.S. Coronado Crew Roster:
    Commanding Officer:        Como. William Daren       (Chris)
    Executive Officer:         Cmdr. Velorna Tal         (Aggie)
    Chief Flight Operations:   LCdr. Maiko D'Rall        (Farrell)
    Command Yeoman:            CPO Zachery Prentiss      (Cloaked)
    Civilian Liaison:          Zunite Oswald             (Sonya)
    Flight Leader:             2Lt. Wolf                 (Wolf)
    Chief Tactical Officer:    Lt. Derek Canterbury      (Spuzzum)
    Chief Engineer:            Cmdr. Jack C. Farley      (CCC)
    Assistant Engineer:        LCdr. Aramis Skylooker    (LewisSharp)
    Assistant Engineer:        Lt. Brandon Gannsen       (Lefty)
    Chief Science Officer:     Lt. Anna Brooks           (Kari)
    Chief Medical Officer:     LCdr. Rachel Kennedy      (Santiago)

 On Extended Leave of Absence:
    Battalion Commander:       LCol. Jacob Prescot       (Prescot)

 Positions Available:
    Watch Tactical Officer:                              (---)
    Flight Leader:                                       (---)

------
Jester

Rear Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor
Commanding, Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"
embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901
http://www.jestertrek.com/coro2400/