"Hurry Up and Wait"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Asst. Chief Helmsman, USS Galaxy

::Shuttlecraft Charon, you are cleared for docking:: came the directive over the comm system.

Acknowledged, transport control. Charon out." As Jeremy carefully guided the shuttlecraft into the bay of Utopia Planetia's Stardock two, he reflected on his now former Captain's order to have it waiting for him 'in one piece'. Though the urge had been strong to crash the damn thing onto some deserted spot on the Martian surface below just to spite the old man, he instead nestled the shuttle between two runabouts as if he were tucking in a baby for its afternoon nap.

Stretching gratefully as he stepped out the hatch and onto the docking bay floor, Jeremy glanced around. Unlike the comparatively cramped shuttle bays on a starship, this place was cavernous, filled from one end to the other with various smaller craft of all shapes and designs. A hub of activity, there were pilots and technicians, civilians and fleet, scurrying around feverishly to load, unload, prepare, repair, and generally go about their respective duties to keep the space lanes filled and flowing.

It was like a pilot's Valhalla.

With everything he owned efficiently packed into two large duffels, Jeremy made his way across the bay toward the main control center, thinking how great it would be to find a nice, cold beer. He knew a shipyard like this would have at least one, probably several, great places to kick back and have a cold one, the kinds of places where spacefaring pilots and crusty dock workers spun yarns and swapped stories off duty for hours.

~Aw shit. -Off- duty.~ he thought, looking down at the uniform he was still wearing. Sure that Bhrode would be able to smell a drop of alcohol a mile away in a compost heap, he decided not to chance bending the rules. Besides, he'd probably need it more -after- meeting with old pork-and-jowls.

---------

"Where you headed?" the transporter operator asked casually as Jeremy handed him his PADD.

"USS Galaxy," Jeremy answered succinctly, not really feeling like talking right now.

"Hm. 'Fraid you're gonna have to wait, sir," he replied, shaking his head while confirming the orders on the PADD. "No one's being let onboard without Captain Bhrode's personal authorization."

"What the hell is this, some kind of obstacle course?" Jeremy scoffed.

"Sorry, Lieutenant but those are his orders. Just sent another officer up to see him about half an hour ago. She was weird."

"That's nice," Jeremy replied flatly. "Can you tell me how to get there?"

"Here," the transporter operator said as he loaded a map of the shipyards into Jeremy's PADD and handed it back. "Oh, and you can store your bags in that closet behind you," he informed, pointing over Jeremy's shoulder.

"No thanks, I'll take them with me," the pilot responded, still studying the map that now displayed on the PADD as he exited into
the main corridor off the other side of the station.

"Strange bunch, that new Galaxy crew," the transporter operator muttered to himself.

---------

"Deck four-o-four."

As the turbolift responded to Jeremy's command, the lieutenant continued staring at the PADD in his hand. Damn, this was a mighty big place. Just finding the right turbolift to get him where he needed to go would have been damn near impossible without the map he was holding. And this was only one stardock area of the shipyards.

The lift stopped, opening into a large corridor lined with doors up and down its length as far as Jeremy could see. The wall marker directly across from where he exited the lift identified this as the Transient Shipping Area.

To the left was a large open area set up as like a waiting room, with chairs around its perimeter and a large desk and console in the center. From behind the desk, a dark-haired yeoman looked up, spotting Jeremy.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," she smiled. "You must be here to see Captain Bhrode."

"Lieutenant Jere- . . ." he began.

"Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie, Flight Control," she finished. "I'm sure you're a little apprehensive about meeting with the Captain, everyone is, after all he can be rather . . . ."

He -knew- she had to be Betazoid, the dark eyes were always a dead giveaway.

Filling his mind with the most prurient, lascivious and debauched thoughts he could come up with (all featuring her, of course), Jeremy watched with quiet satisfaction as the yeoman's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped, ceasing her prattle in mid-sentence.

He loved doing that to Betazoids. Served them right for prying into people's heads.

"Please. . . uh, have a seat . . ." she stammered, her eyes locked on him as if he were wielding an axe.

"Thank you," he said quietly, with a smirk.

As he turned toward the seats against the wall to the right, he spied a door marked 'Temporary Ready Room' to the side.

So that's where it was all happening. Where Bhrode was grilling his new officers, undoubtedly testing their mettle, seeing if they were up to snuff.

Dealing with the 'Chatty-Cathy' Betazoid yeoman didn't seem so bad all of a sudden.

Stairway to hell"
by
Lt. Vladimir 'Sonic' Malgin, ACMO, USS Galaxy

Soundtrack for deck 404: "Road to hell" by Chris Rea

"...AIR!.." said Vladimir when he stepped on the docking bay of Stardock. 30 hours he spent on Shuttle on way from 'Novo Moscovia' to Solar system, and this jorney finally finished. To pleasure of both passenger and pilot. ~This pilot is Corgan number 3 in my career! Annoying as hell! Damned like FC Spartak Moscow!~ thought Russian doctor. Then he looked around. Well, it was kinda crowded in shuttle bay. But it is supposed to be crowded in shuttlebay, isn't it? True. So, without shadow of interest to all this activity, he picked up his two bags (filled with his own stuff, you remember) and walked to the control center.

The only problem that really was in his brain in the moment was 'how to find my quarters, unpack my stuff and not to fall asleep?'. This question was of
course less complicated than Shakesperean 'To be or not to be?', but contained its own dangers. One of 'em was unavoidable conversation with duty transporter officer, in which he will be asked all questions possible. From destination to age.

Vladimir smiled, walking to transporter operator and giving him his PADD "Hello, pal. Take me to that USS Galaxy. I don't want to wait, you know..."

Transporter operator met enough new Galaxy officers today, so he only gave a short tired smile and quetly said "As I told to many officers before, I will
tell you, that no one is allowed to be up there without the confirmnation of your CO, Fleet Captain John Bhrode."

"Oh, man, does it really matter? Count that I have his authorisation."

"Not a chance, lieutenant. I'd do that with great pleasure, but I want to stay in Starfleet, so..." officer returned PADD to Vladimir "make you way to capt.
and God, save you. I hope you return from Bhrode in one piece."

Russian doctor frowned "Oh, thanks for good prognosis. I will try to return HIM in one piece. Thanks, have a nice day." he walked away. ~S*tty thing! If I see that buckethead Bhrode, he will immideately put my bacon on the frying pan... Where is that mr. S**tman (not Scatman, you understand what I mean...) is now?..~

-= Deck 404 =-

"..You're here to see Captain Bhrode, lieutenant?" asked yeoman, when she saw a man entering, what she already knew was stairway to hell to many new officers of USS Galaxy.

Vladimir gave a 'smile of death sentenced' and replied "Unfortunately. I am lieutenant Vladimir Malgin, assigned Assistant Chief Medical Officer... Tell me
he is not there, please."

"He is there, sir. You'll have to wait a bit - he is conversating with another person. So take a seat and wait." She indicated a seat near another officer, in Command Red.

"Conversating? Why I don't hear screams of horror and see flames from that room yet?.."

To be continued ... (or concluded, if Vladimir finds his death in Cpt's ready room ;-))

"Lions and Tigers and Bhrode, OH MY! The Ops Preface"

Lt.Cmdr Electra Reece
Flt.Captain John Bhrode
Guest Appearances by
"The Dueling Commanders" VonErnst and Hawksley

Bhrode sat behind his desk and glowered at the tall, slim woman before him. In the viewport behind him, the bulk of SpaceDock Two's Main Berth made even the elegant sweeping mass of the USS Galaxy seem tiny.

If it wasn't for the palpable tension in the room, an observer might have called the floor to ceiling majestic view of the ship 'breathtaking' or 'awesome.'

"Oh, sit down Commander Reece. I imagine if you'd wanted to stand at Attention all day, you'd have joined the Corps," Bhrode finally grunted.

Lexa walked quietly to a chair and sat, her back straight, her eyes staring at the man behind the desk.

~ I forgot how abrasive he is. This will be ... interesting. ~

Five chairs sat arrayed before the desk, all metal and bolted to the deckplates at the regulation distance. The room itself was cold, empty and impersonal. Not a single personal item cried out 'John Q. Bhrode is HERE!'

Two of the seats were already occupied. Commanders Hawksley and VonErnst sat as far as possible from each other and ignored everyone else. Lysander was perusing a PADD and Rebecca was staring stonily out the viewport, her tiny freckled face set in a stony mask.

Lexa didn't look at the other two but she had taken in their presence and postures as soon as she walked in. ~ Poor Rebecca. She must have been
through hell in the past two years. She had such potential. Pity. The poor thing. They just brainwashed her. What a strange word that is. In her case it is more like they dipped her brain in black paint, not wash it clean. ~

She turned her mind back to the man behind the desk, her new captain. He had been the one in charge when the Hirogen attacked and she wasn't thrilled to be working with him again but was resigned to it. Her dark eyes flashed with an inner fire as she regarded the intense man who examined her closely.

Bhrode took in the hair, flowing down her back, secured in a pony-tail type of design rather than her former style of braids and coronets and buns. He saw the flawless skin, last seen burned almost beyond recognition. He saw the impassive face, a new development. Before he could always read her emotions on that expressive canvass. And he took in the eyes, windows to the soul, according to the poets. Those eyes that were shooting phaser beams at him as she sat there, quietly and waited for him to speak.

"Electra Reece. You must have zigged when you should have zagged. Don't make that mistake again. You know my Executive Officers? Of course you do. Shrinks and Docs gave you a full release, correct?" barked Bhrode.

With a slight up-quirking of her lips, Lexa inclined her head in a regal manner, acknowledging the answer to both questions. She now turned to gaze at the two officers she had mused on previously.

Lysander, apparently, had changed a bit. His 'too pretty for words' face was marred by a raffishly broken nose now, and a small white scar tracked into the hairline on the profile closest to Lexa. He dipped his head at her with a smirk that hadn't changed at all. Still playing the 'little boy' routine to the hilt.

"Commander, You're looking well by the way, welcome aboard." Lysander's eyes raked her from head to toe. . . lingering on her legs for a few more heartbeats than the situation really required. A cough from Bhrode brought Lys back.

"Your training records and service records are all top of the line. High marks all the way around. I have only one question, and it's in the area regarding . . . ummm... smeg... in the area of. . ." Lysander began, in that distracted way he usually used.

"Lieutenant Corgan. Starfleet Regulation forty three subsection three hundred Beta Seven. Regarding Interpersonal relations within the Chain of Command. 'It is forbidden to initiate an unwanted off-duty interpersonal relationship with a member of Starfleet subordinate to oneself, or to use position and/or rank to unduly influence or coerce a subordinate Starfleet member into such a relationship.' It's a standard assignment in the Academy to memorize and use those regulations, as I'm sure that Lieutenant . . . I mean, 'Commander' Hawksley was about to tell you." Rebecca added, in a
bored monotone.

"Smeg! I was getting there! And it's only err... are you sure? because I thought it was only the coercion part. You know? Flashing smegging long legs and what not. Look. . . Lexa. . . no one's judging you or accusing you of improper conduct. Just that there are. . . issues. . .regarding. . . " Lysander began again.

"Lieutenant Corgan is a candidate for another slot aboard and we want to know if the potential for another indiscretion on both your parts. . . " Cut in Rebecca, the flashes of annoyance with Lysander were the only emotions writ on her features.

"Knock it off you two. They think they're in a race for a job. You and Corgan still 'involved?" Bhrode demanded, his fingers drumming a tattoo on the metal desk and silencing the other two officers with a glare..

~ James will be aboard. I guess I won't have to send him a letter then. He'll find out soon enough. I'm not sure I'm glad of this. Things were smooth. No ripples. Now ... no, I'm not happy. He will be though. ~

Lexa opened her mouth for the first time during the entire meeting. "Involved is a relative term, sir. . . "

"Horse Hockey. Quit dancing around and answer me." Bhrode interrupted the explanation. "Yes or no, is Corgan going to be a problem for you or I? Because, if push comes to shove, my preference is to kick his butt back to the Border Patrol. I need an OPS chief who's on the ball, more than I need another headache from my Senior Staff's off-duty activities. You still got the 'stuff,' Reece? Or are you gonna get all girly on me, and maybe get some more people killed?" Bhrode snapped.

"No one got killed before, sir." Electra replied, keeping herself calm.

"Horse Apples. You did, nearly. And plenty of others after you passed out for your little nappie-nap, Reece. Almost 300 casualties, another 200 wounded. Even some civilians." Bhrode replied.

"278 dead, seven 'Serious' injuries who later died, One hundred five more 'Serous or Critical' recoveries. Three hundred seven injured, ten civilian causalities." Rebecca replied, her voice as uninflected as a computers. She might have been reporting on Plasma Widget inventories.

"I don't think that's exactly fair to the Commander. Her console blew up and she was pretty incapacitated during the invasion of the ship. They never did find Lockhart's head, did they?" Lysander added.

"My model clearly showed that if Commander Reece had remained at Operations, our chances of successfully fending off the Hirogen would have exponentially grown by Point Zero Zero Seven Eight percent every three minutes. And if Commander Reece had been on the planet. . . " Rebecca cut in with.

"She was in a COMA! What the smeg? You wanted her in a sarong and co co nut bra, tossing rocks at Hunters? I don't remember a lot of assistance from you down there! What would you have done? Thrown her body at the Hirogen?" Lysander retorted, leaning past Lexa to see his nemesis more
clearly.

"Certainly not having her name a fireball farting beetle. . . 'Mister Bippy' wasn't it?" was the cool reply.

Bhrode sighed and ignored the bickering. He caught Lexa's eye and leaned across the brushed steel desk, Lysander's and Rebecca's comments flying over his head.

"You know me. You know the way I work. Yes or No, Reece. 'Yes,' you can do your job and we won't have problems, or 'No' you can't get Lieutenant Corgan out of your system and there's gonna be on-the-job problems from either of you. Because make no mistake, ONE problem from either of you, and BOTH of you leave. And I'll make sure you both end up in places you really do NOT want to be, never to cross paths again." Bhrode demanded, his steel-grey eyes boring through hers and seemingly peering into her soul.

Lexa gazed back at the hard man across the desk. Their eyes dueled and entire conversations took place within them during those few seconds. Then her lips opened. "Yes." Nothing more, just the single word. And Bhrode realized that it characterized the changes in the OPS officer. No more stammering, no more stutters, no more crying. This was a woman, now, not the girl she had been, and girl she HAD been, though she had been in her early-thirties. But, no, now this was a woman, secure in herself, having faced death and beaten it back after a lengthy battle. She'd do. Corgan wouldn't like it, but she'd definitely do. Even if those rumors about her ... brain's ...activities were near truth.

"Fine, then, Reece. Get yourself on board my ship and get settled. Your staff will be reporting over the next few weeks. I expect your department to be ready when we ship out. You should know what needs to be done. Dismissed." With that he turned his head back to the commanders.

Lysander flashed her a wink and a tightlipped smile. Rebecca just continued staring out the full length window at the ship behind Bhrode.

Lexa rose and walked out. She re-traced her path to the transporter area and handed her approved orders to the lieutenant on duty. She grabbed her gear from the closet and waited for the de-materialization.

~ Well. Bhrode. VonErnst. Hawksley. And James. ~ Her eyes fluttered and goose-bumps rose on her arms as she appeared on the pad of the Galaxy. She saw again the pips, streaked with blood, the darkened room, she heard the voice calling "Red Alert", and she shivered deep within as she came back to herself and saw the ensign staring at her, eyebrows raised. "Ma'am? Are you alright?" She waved off his concern and left the room, headed for the quarters that had been assigned to her.

The ensign left behind shook his head and muttered to his console. "Bloody weird for an officer."

"I Am the Very Model of A Modern Major General..."

By Fleet Captain John Q. Brhode, Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy
And Lieutenant James Lionel Corgan, Transient Officer

Location: Star Dock Two, Planetia Utopia Naval Shipyard, Mars Orbit

~"Sh*t, sh*t, sh*tty sh*t sh*t"~ Resounded through Corgan's skull like a runaway pinball, obeying the bumpers and ramps in his brain, but not the flippers that controlled his mind, ~"Sh*t."~

Sh*t. The key word that has pinballed through him all throughout the day. But this wasn't a day like any other. Most of the time, he could relax himself into going with whatever life delivered to him. He had worse. Hell,he knew he had much worse than the news he received today. One doesn't survive two Borg encounters, a run amok religion, a gaggle of Alien big game hunters, a duo of sexual expressive vampires and the biggest war since the old Earth/Romulan scuffle without thinking that it couldn't get much worse in his life.

That was what he took stock in. He faced the fires of heaven with his love, and the fires of hell with his tragedies. After all that, he should have a steeled heart, ready to take any pounding and beating he could come across.

But again, sh*t broke his resolve and turned him into a semi-nervous wreck.

What was it about the USS Galaxy, he wondered. Why, out of all the ships in the Universe, was he always being drawn to this particular vessel. Some spacers would claim that ships were so much like home to them that they went out of their way to be transferred back, even by losing rank and privileges. But not once did he hear of a ship trying to draw anyone back on it's own initiative.

Sadly, James admitted the ship was a home to him. Oddly, thought the Galaxy class was always a vessel he felt uncomfortable serving on, it was not the ships' worthiness in a combat situation that left his mouth dry and his brain saying "sh*t" over and over.

The thing that worried James was the insane lunatic was sitting on the Captain's chair.

Captain John Q. Brhode. The infamous slayer of Hirogens. The bloody handed tyrant of the USS Prospero. So many names and reputations were attached to this one Captain. He was a deadly killer. He was a starship captain who didn't give a damn about the ship or the crew, just as long as the job was done. Hell, that was why he had the reputation of getting the job done by any means necessary. He pushed people, and pushed the ship and crew to the breaking point. And when they were about to snap, he let go, scolded them for being weak, and continued on with the torture.

James had the misfortune of running into Brhode on the warpath before. Taking offence to a necrophilia crack, James argued, and ended up losing. He hated dealing with that man ever since. He was just a Lieutenant, and Brhode was the Captain. How was one supposed to prove their point when rank muted any arguments?

That was why he hated higher ranks in the first place. Even if they were as stupid as a bag of Horta sheddings and their decisions were wrong, what could you do about it but watch the ship go down in flames?

And so that was the underlying root to his anxiety. He didn't want to talk to Captain John Q. Brhode. With other Captains, he was able to talk to them in a more level playing field, because the other Captains had the decency to level it for him. Sure, there was rank and protocol to follow, but at least one could say "permission to speak freely" without being told to shut up or without regretting it. That, and he never argued with them. Their clear heads and calm manner made talking easier.

Not Brhode. He was one to run an officer through the wringer and hang him out to dry. Brhode had a special hate for the former Liason officer. Just when James thought the Captain was out to get him, Brhode confessed that James reminded him of himself during his younger years, and that the Captain held most of his spitfire because of this.

This was all dandy and great. Like a coin, Brhode's opinion of James was two sided. One side said he hated the punk, the other acted like a sick and verbally abusive father.

~"I never asked for a damn father anyways."~ James bitterly mulled as he rang the doorbell for the Captain's Temporary ready room, ~"My dad was a f**king jerk! Don't need two of them to f**k over my life. My dad, just like Brhode. Too much like Brhode, and now he says I'm like him when he was younger. God, please don't turn me into him"~

~"On second thought... i'd settle for somebody else being here. Hell, i'd deal with that ice queen Rebecca any day!"~

Corgan keyed the entry chime to the Transient Shipping Office on Stardock Two with a palpitating heart.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bhrode grunted and spun the PADD back to the yeoman. Behind his blocky shoulders and grey, closeshorn head, the viewport showed a single ship in the enormous Berth of Stardock. . .

USS Galaxy.

Hanging there with umbilicals and conduits connected to her like IV lines on a patient. Workbees and pods flittered around her like gnats, dwarfed at the scale. It looked like the same ship, the dock lights splaying across her like water. A manic flurry of activity around her, capping off a year long Top Secret renovation, making her seem the sleek Queen of some silvery insect lifeform.

The room was spartan, designed for CO's to use until their commands were finalized and spaceworthy. No personal belongings were evident to indicate that Bhrode had occupied it for almost the last month.

Corgan received a welcome as warm as a Praxis asteroid. He was in the den of the lion, the one and only Captain John Q. Brhode. Once thee entered, there was no escape from the lion's clutches...

The young, pretty Betazoid Yeoman slid past Corgan with downcast eyes. Corgan saluted sharply, cautious not to be chewed out on the first day of... whatever he was doing... by looking at the captain the wrong way.

Bhrode eyed the saluting Corgan with steel-grey eyes that were devoid of any warmth or other human emotion.

"Knock off the Kay-det crapola and sit down, Mister. Since when did saluting and shit replace real discipline?" Bhrode barked, indicating the one straight backed chair bolted to the deckplates before the brushed steel desk.

The Lieutenant carefully sat on the seat, treating it gingerly as if the Captain might have hidden a poisoned needle somewhere in the cushions. So far, the Captain was acting just as he expected. Loud, brutish, overbearing, and obnoxious. Everything was going as normal.

But that was the thing about Brhode. He wasn't normal, and normal could change very quickly.

He proceeded to ignore James, perusing a file on his desktop terminal with a frown. Finally, his attention sparked back to Corgan, like a targeting laser suddenly firing up.

"Soooooo. . . .What have you been up to. . . Commander? Tell me why I should allow you on my crew?" Bhrode demanded.

James Corgan started off his list of previous experiences, "After BUPERS broke up the Galaxy crew, I enlisted at Starfleet's College of War on Earth. There, I took an Advanced Tactical and Security Training Program..." His eyes uneasily shifted to the Betazoid Yeoman. She seemed to shrug in sympathy, already sensing his nervousness, "I graduated at the top five of my class, and I received a tactical merit award after the Wolf 359 simulator."

Brhode's eyebrow perked with interest, "Is that so?" He spoke gravelly, impatiently hurrying him along, "And you got the award because..."

"I threw a warp core through a radiation cloud and crippled the ship. Actually, I sort of beamed a couple of my engineers over to the Melbourne to eject hers. Sort of a modified 'VonErnst Sucker Punch' variant attack."

"Nothing Like hers. She used a whole starship like a club. Killed that Locutus dead in his tracks too. Your variant only slowed him down long enough for a surviving Melbourne to unload an Alpha Strike on him, and for Hichem and Venture and BonHomme to send in Marines to chase his ass around that cube. Number One's killed his ass cold. If there'd been more than one cube, they'd have adapted to YOUR variant and fragged us all. I'd be a damn Borg, because of YOU. So? What else?"

Corgan sensed that he was a hard person to please, and was reeled when he heard Brhode's blow by blow description of the simulator. ~"He's been checking up on me? Creepy..."~ He thought, looking at him with suspicion as if he was Big Brother in the flesh. ~"Was so like Rebecca's. She just hurled the ship. I used it's fraggin' warp core. And she flew through a radiation cloud and killed her own crew. I just risked the ship being assimilated so that the damn core could avoid the Borg's tractor beam. Surely he knows that much..."~

As always, he kept patient, "After that, my practicum consisted of a tour of duty on board a Federation Border Patrol Cutter. The SS Edmund Teach. I was their Liason Officer."

Brhode didn't seem to give all the care in the world, "Again, why the hell should I hire you? You can win all the damn medals you want, looking in ladies handbags and rifling their undie drawers with the Border Patrol. But that still doesn't mean i'll trust you not to crack open a cold one for shits and giggles at the morgue. Don't think I forgot K-4."

The sniping insult chafted under the Lieutenant's mind. He hated Brhode's judgement of himself as a necrophiliac. All he had was a respect for the dead, something the Captain had a hard time understanding.

James answered frankly, "I think I should be on this ship because I worked my ass off, sir. I've jumped through a lot of fiery hoops just to get here. I worked to become that officer everyone seems to want me to be. I'm more than qualified and I think i've proven that I can get the job done."

Still unconcerned, Brhode replied, "Work and a few credits will get you a rakdijino. I don't need hard workers. I need people who can do and think, Commander. Too many lives rest on our shoulders."

James caught the last part like a fist of latinum to the jaw. He asked, "Sir? Commander?"

"That's right. Commander. Didn't you take Protocol 101 at the Academy? It is customary to address a Lieutenent Commander as 'Commander.' Starfleet said I couldn't have a Lieutenant running one of my Departments. They were worried you'd piddle in the potted plants or something. So you get a nice shiny promotion. Congrats." Bhrode returned his attention to the file, the flickering lights of the animations casting harsh shadows and patterns on the planes of his face.

"Excuse me, but a promotion?" James asked, the astonishment permanently etched on his face, ~"From you?"~ he added mentally.

Bhrode cut off James with a curt motion. "Don't try and smooch my heinie. I didn't do a damn thing. I could care less what rank you hold, as long as you perform your job. Starfleet NEVER 'gives' you anything, you earn it. In this case, apparently, someone thought you earned a promotion. If you think for one nano-second that I have to BUY THE FRIGGIN ADMIRATION OF MY JUNIOR OFFICERS WITH BRIGHT SHINY JEWELRY AND FRIGGING TITLES; YOU HAVE ANOTHER THINK COMING MISTER!" Bhrode thundered, the vein on his forehead popping out with the sudden fury.

James held his ground, unbuffeted by the fury of his verbal attack. He put up with more abuse and trauma in his life than Brhode knew about. And after a few minutes of exposure, he was starting to gain an immunity to the old Captain's sass. And as surprising as a tiger lilly surviving a windstorm, James lived to see Brhode calm down.

~"What the f**k?"~ He realized the reason he wasn't so concerned was that he was still reeling from the shock of his promotion, ~"God save Starfleet. They must be in dire straits..."~

Rubbbing his temples and sighing , Bhrode leaned back in his Regulation Issue Chair, Commanding Officers' and stared at Corgan.

Without uttering a word, Bhrode stared until the young man settled into silence, long minutes whiling away.

"I am not your friend. I am not your bestest buddy. I am your superior officer. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive, not out of the kindness of my heart or because I care for your company, but because I have decided your presence is necessary for me to complete my mission." Bhrode broke off and continued the creepy staredown.

"Yes sir." Was all Corgan answered, his tongue covered in jack frost.

Bhrode bulldozed over James like Corgan hadn't even opened his mouth. "In return, you will perform your duties to the best of the abilities I have judged you to have. But make no mistakes, Comamnder Corgan. One slip up, one screw up, one mistake and I'll break you without thinking about it. If you live, you'll be on a comm relay station orbiting some godforsaken icecube in Near-Breen orbit. You get one chance. Not three, not six. One."

Bhrode slid across the table the small box holding the gold circled black 'pip' to be added to the two solid gold ones James already wore. The small circlet glittered there in the black velvet box.

"How about it Corgan? Are you man enough to be my Chief Security Officer? Last chance to run like Commander Thomas! But you know what happened to the monkey whose ambitions exceeded his reach?" Bhrode demanded.

James had a lot to think about, ~"A promotion and a job as chief of security? What the hell did I do to deserve this? I though you had to suck an admiral's dick to get this rank..."~ He thought, thinking of the example of Commander Christopher Thomas, and later a horrible image in his head of the Commander and a grizzled old admiral. He shut the image out of his head and concentrated, ~"F**k, this is great, but working with Brhode is going to be hell on wheels. And he's damn serious about his threats... still..."~

Then he thought of Lieutenant Commander Reece, and how she was also going to be summoned to this office. She was going to have to put up with the same abuse as Corgan, maybe even more so because of their previous relationship.

~"Holy sh*t... If I don't take this, that would be like throwing her to the f**king wolves! I can't do that!"~

Without a second thought, James reached over and plucked the pip from its case, and fixed it on his collar.

"Where do I begin?" He said with a sly grin.

"Fine. You'll have a skeleton crew. Make up a duty roster, use my name to steal whomever you want to from BuPers. I seem to have some unholy reputation over there, they've gotten me every name I've mentioned in passing. Make up your Department and in three days, you'll secure the ship. We'll move aboard her then. Dis-missed." Bhrode snapped, turning back to his computer terminal.

"No problem. I'll ransack BUPERS until it's tapped dry if I have to." He vowed.

"Oh, Mister Corgan? One last thing. I want Meat Truck. The Big Indian Price had looming around? Make sure Lt. Raven Darkstar is available." Bhrode commanded.

"Consider Lt. Darkstar yours, sir. I'll bring him in as soon as possible."

After James had left, Bhrode sighed and muttered something odd under his breath. it sounded like. . .

"You've come a long way, Baby. . ."

"Deja Vu and Discontinuity"
By Lieutenant Commander Electra Reece
Chief of Operations, USS Galaxy

Location: Chief of Operations Office, OPS Departmental Complex, Deck 9

The desk was shining metallically in the glaring, harsh lights. The LCARS terminal was black and its screen shimmered under the illumination from above. The chair was covered in a light grey fabric, slightly plush, but only designed for basic comfort, not luxury. The wall behind the desk was a computer screen, a new development and there was an access panel for it on the right side of the desk. The panel also controlled a holographic projection system, capable of projecting basic images (such as charts and maps) as well as controlling the new Mark I OPS hologram (EOH). There were two chairs placed in front of the desk, also covered in grey, though a darker shade, and not nearly so comfortable.

Lexa stared around her new domain, feeling deja vu and a sense of discontinuity. Things were different, yet she was back on this ship. It was the Galaxy but it had changed. She was chief of OPS but the department was empty. The office was the same but it had new systems and there was no paperwork covering the desk (though she knew that would quickly change). She held the same position but her uniform was a different color. Before, the red of command, now the gold of technical crew.

Lexa had spent the past few hours strolling the ship. She had taken her things to her cabin (new and improved, larger with her promotion) on deck 8. After unpacking her clothing and personal effects, she had tried to take a turbolift to the bridge only to be told by the computer voice (a harsher voice than she remembered) that it was off-limits. So she had stuck her head into a deserted 10-Forward. It had been an eerie experience. The windows were covered by cloth and the tables had chairs upended on them. The bar was unmanned and there were only a few bottles behind it, rather than the dozens there should be.

And, after stopping by the quartermaster's office in the OPS complex, she had been told by the Sybarrian on duty that no member of her department was aboard. The quartermaster was only on temporary duty and would transfer back to the shipyards when the Galaxy's own staff for that office arrived. This unpleasant news had sent Lexa striding into her own office, to examine the expected manifest for her own department.

She spent the next two hours looking over the manifest and crew files, setting up passwords in the computer system, assigning a duty roster, choosing an assistant chief, and setting the computer to send an automatic message to each new arrival as they checked in. By the time she was done, she rolling her neck on her shoulders and sighing from deep within.

The ship was deserted and she was starving. The mess halls wouldn't be on-line yet and obviously neither was 10-4. She could have eaten in her cabin but she was feeling too bizarre. This giant ship, echoing in its vast emptiness, was too much for her alert senses. She headed back to the transporter room to find somewhere at the yards to eat.

"The Charge of the Former Tac Weenies. . . "

by
Commanders Von Ernst and Hawksley.

Lysander was all but buried under the four enormous duffle bags. One slung from each shoulder, bumping at his legs and making walking difficult, and one dragging from each hand. He plodded across deck 219 of Stardock two and muttered choice Klingon curses under his breath at the slim, elfin form before him.

Rebecca Von Ernst hadn't said one civil word since Lysander has appeared in Bhrode's office and goggled at his fortune. However, the iciness and weirdness of the reception aside, this duty sure beat punching Klingons in the mouth for not saluting him fast enough.

The entire time Bhrode explained that he would consider them both 'Co-Executive Officers'... that they'd share the responsibility and the work, and perhaps each head a department as well (Stellar Cartography for Rebecca and Helm for Lys) he'd been trying to sneak peeks at her out of the corner of his eye.

Then, they'd started in on the crew. Lysander spending half his time listening to the candidates and the other half oogling her.

As each candidate had come in, Rebecca had used the occasion to jab little zings at Lysander, looking out the viewport or at Bhrode and ignoring everyone else. Of course he'd retaliated. Smegged if he'd let HER get away with such stupid and infantile behaviour.

Smeggin' Princess.

Her hair was longer, and softer looking than he remembered. Also a bit redder. Making her skin seem paler and bringing her freckles into more vivid relief. She seemed skinnier, if at all possible... her bones more fragile and closer to the surface. At the same time, she appeared slightly more. . . 'womanly?' He'd peered closer at her bosom, under the guise of a dropped data chip, until a single raised eyebrow had stopped him. Definite improvement there. . for the better in his opinion.

Lysander eyed the swaying, flat ass in front of him and the long, lean legs that swung it from side to side and sighed at the dichomity

"Why couldn't we just have transported? What's the big deal about the gangway? And why did you get to send your bags ahead?" He grumped for what seemed the millionth time.

"Commanders don't carry bags. And I always take the gangway. I don't have bags, I've been here for days now. Doing -my- job." was the icy reply.

"Really? I'm a Commander. . . why didn't you say anything?" Lysander whined, shifting a shoulder strap.

"Are you? Fascinating." came the stony and clearly bored reply over a shoulder.

Lys never saw the tiny smile that flickered on her face as she turned back.

He did however, notice that for every passing person who smiled at, or greeted, or said 'Hi' to him; for every old aquaintence or backslapping well-wisher he encountered, Rebecca received only glares, stares, and avoidance. For every person who met his eyes, two people avoided hers like the plague. For every person that jostled him, crowds parted to avoid her.

"Hurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmm. . ." he said, testing the waters. Just to see the tiny shoulder blades refelxively tighten and the tiny fists clench at her side. He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure he could hear grinding teeth as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

"The Smeg we have to wait!" Lysander told the rating at the gangway. Rebecca was staring out the porthole again, lost in whatever world she inhabitated in place of the real one. Arms crossed over her chest, she balanced on one foot and stared.

"S.s.s.s...s.s..sir! Captain's orders! No one goes aboard without his permission!" the Security Mate stuttered out, his face flushing red in ugly contrast to his yellow and black uniform.

"I'm the bloody smegging Executive Officer!" Lysander retorted.

"Not on my list! You're not on the list! You can't come aboard if you're not on my list!" the kid repeated for the millionth time, eyes rolling in abject terror.

". . . Co-Executive Officer. . . " came the soft voice from behind Lysander, no doubt just to irritate him.

"He could be the captain, but he's not on the list, Ma'm." the kid said, eyes flickering between Lys and Rebecca.

"Look mister. I just spent the last five hours with the Captain. . . you comm him up and. . . " Lys was saying, as he was suddenly pushed to one side. Hard.

"Thankyouam'myouareclearedforentryandhaveanicedayma'm" the sweating, terrified kid rattled off, saluting as Rebecca began trudging down the long corridor to the ship.

Alone.

Lysander watched her for a moment.

"THANKS FOR THE HELP! NICE TO SEE -YOU- AGAIN TOO!" he shouted at her back. At least she paused for one-half a step before continuing her march.

"I'll be seeing you. . ." Lysander promised her back, in a growl.

"Look, Pal. Sir. You seem like a nice guy. But I can't, you know.. just -let-you onboard." the kid said, seeming calmer now. His acne was much less evident without the blush.

"Why the smeg not?" Lysander demanded.

"Well . . . you know. . . " the kid whispered, after a theatrical glance around.

"No. Tell me. You have my orders, you'd have the Captain's clearance if you verified it. What's the smegging delay?" Lysander asked.

"I'd have to. . . ummm. . . talk to. . . . her. Like in an official capacity and stuff!" the kid blurted out.

"Her? Her who?" Lysander demanded.

"HER! you know. . . " the kid indicated the gangway.

"Rebecca?" Lysander demanded incredously.

"SHHH! Yeah. It ain't worth my job or my life. I hear she once killed someone, just for asking her a question. Barehanded, snapped their neck like a Toothpick!" the kid muttered.

"She weighs 95 smegging pounds soaking wet!" Lysander said, amused at the rumour.

"I also hear she killed over a million Hirogen, destroyed their ships with some kind of bomb and irridated a whole parsec of space. No one can go there for a million years!" the kid plowed on.

"She had help." Lysander grated out between clenched teeth.

"And I hear she once blazed a bowl of dope off in front of a Captain and told him to. . . hey. . . you got any swords in those bags? Can I see them?" the kid asked.

"Huh? No. No weapons of any ilk." lysander replied, absentmindedly

"Oh. Well. Dope? Other Classified Narcotics? Tri-Lithium? Cobalt powered devices? Flora or Fauna? You're not on my list and can't come aboard. Sir." the Kid told Lysander again.

With a weary sigh, Lys let the bags drop to the deck, taking the shoulderstraps off the point they'd been cutting into his neck.

"Fine. Can you get someone to bring these to the IKS Firestorm at External Berth Seven, Deck One Hundred and. . . ... what?" he asked the kid who was saluting him now.

"SIR!ThisratingdidnotobserveyourrankSIR!" the kid spewed forth.

"huh?" Lysander asked, looking around for a comm terminal to run the Uni-Translator.

"Sir! I saw you with the bags and thought... I...I . . . I thought you were some Ensign carrying things for. . . her. Commanders don't CARRY bags sir!" the kid blurted out, still at attention.

"So I hear. . . " Lysander sighed and shoved the datachip with his orders into the scanner slot.

Even barring a photographic memory, he was pretty sure her exact words had been "Grab your bags and I'll take you up the gangway."

Smegging princess.

=/\=

"Quiet Beginnings"
by Ensign Ella Grey

Ella's best feature was her eyes.

Sure, she had a good body and a nice face, but it was her eyes that she was most proud of. Ella had spent the last few years perfecting her baby blues, learning how to reflect thought and feeling, the whole range of human emotions really, to others. Anger, adoration, puzzlement, happiness...her eyes could express them all. Expression was important when you didn't speak or word.

Or chose not to, in her case.

"You understand, Ella, that there is nothing physically stopping you from speaking." Mavis Selby, counselor and evil psychological barricuda, had informed her long ago. Sure there is, Ella thought to herself, her blue eyes for one moment showing her annoyance. I'm stopping me from speaking. Just me. Because it's MY decision.

Why couldn't people accept that?

She shook herself and and forced her eyes to go back to the dazzling saphires she knew they could be, a small smile upon her face ready to break into a golden grin of sunshine if need be. The clothing vendor noticed her and came over to ask if she needed any help. Ella put on her most simple face and went through the slow, almost comical, motions of trying to pantomime that she couldn't speak. The woman immediately became sympathetic and, more importantly, the price of the dress in question went considerably lower.

Ella grinned as she left the boutique, the dress bagged and folded over her arm. People assumed too much and Ella was not above using it to her advantage. She pulled out her sunglasses from her leather purse and strolled up to her transport. One of her father's many drivers opened the door for her, carefully taking the package from her. Ella flashed him a grateful smile and got inside, signaling that she wanted to be taken home.

It never failed to amuse her, or slightly irritate her, that her most of her parent's people had taken the time to learn at least the basic vocabulary of Sign Language, mostly under the instructions of Laura Harper, the head cook of the household, feared next to God, while her own parents had barely bothered to learn one word.

Ella allowed herself a rare sigh, which was only because she knew that the backseat was soundproofed. What was so terribly great about speaking anyway? Most people flubbed it up, stuttering or slurring, speaking overloud or in stupid slangs or with thousands of lame idioms. And what was so wrong about not wanting to speak? It wasn't as if she had anything deep and moving to say. Half the time she just wanted to tell everyone to leave her the hell alone and let her do her job.

But that would never do. Only Klingons, and maybe a few other cases, could insult everyone in their path and then still be able to advance their rank within a couple of months. And Ella could admit to herself that she was ambitious enough. She wanted to be one of the higher-ups before she was twenty-six.

Ella pulled out the PADD from her purse and brought up the saved file.

To: Ella Grey, Ensign, Starfleet Academy

From: Starfleet Command, Bureau of Personnel

Date: 50307.04 Re: Transfer orders.You are hereby ordered, by Starfleet
Command, to report to StarDock Two atPlanetia Utopia Shipyards for assignment to
the following ship, prior to her launch. You are authorized to use any available
transit and/or shipping toreport as soon as possible.

USS GALAXY NCC-70637/A

In our hand, this stardate:Fleet Admiral Nakamura, Commander in Chief,
UFP-StarFleetCommodore George Irwin, Commander, BUPERS

She could feel her eyes practically glowing. Finally, she was going to get off this rock and, finally, she was on her way to fullfilling one of her many goals. Of course, her parents were none too pleased, secretly hoping over the years that she would drop or flunk out of the Academy, but they couldn't stop her now even if they wanted to.

Ella rolled her eyes. She could still remember the first time she had "told" them of her intentions to join Starfleet.

"Starfleet? Why Starfleet?" Her mother had whined. "If you would just stop being stubborn and talk again...you could be on a stage within months, precious...Oh, why won't you SAY something, baby. Why are you doing this to me?" Hysterical tears had ensued.

"You're leaving ME for STARFLEET?!?" Thomas, her ex-fiancee had yelled at her, albeit in a nasally voice. "First, you won't talk to me and now you're just going to ABANDON me to join up with people who are below your class!"

What had she ever seen in him anyway? Oh, that was right. Her parents had practically chosen him for her.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Her father had sniffed and then had gone on to talk about his tedious day discussing shop with the board members of Grey Tech.

Ella often congratulated herself on her self-control, especially when dealing with her family and ex-fiancee.

Ah well, she thought, soon you'll be far far away from them all, hidden away on a Starship where she could focus on what she wanted to do since she was a little girl, make the ships go.

"You can't hide forever, Ella." The almost baritone voice of Mavis Selby suddenly thundered from somewhere in her mind. Who's hiding, Counselor? she had wanted to say. I'm exactly where I have chosen to be. And by the way, orange is not your color."

Again the frustration came. What was so terrible about being mute most of the time? She knew that somewhere on her record there was a little red tag that probably had her labeled as a risk factor. And why? Because she chose not to speak when she was capable of speaking. And that stupid little tag would enevitably meant that she would be drawn into the counselors office or possibly even the Captain's ready room for a little discussion about her mental health.

She wasn't too concerned about the counselors. She had seen enough of them at the Academy and most had seen her as a dedicated and harmless poor little rich girl, simply set upon by childhood tragedy. Most on the new ship would probably think the same. Ella rolled her eyes again.

Let them think I'm harmless, she thought. It's easier that way.

What had her a little worried was what this John Brode, Captain and infamous ball-buster, would have to say about it. Word was that he was going to be the new captain of the Galaxy and one word from him could potentially have her docked back on Earth with her well-meaning and obnoxious family breathing down her neck. She had heard all manner of tales about the man, most uncomplimentary and most pegging him as the meanest son-of-a-bitch known to captain a starship. Most believed that he would have turned on his own mother, probably had for that matter.

Just my luck to draw the one person in the universe that I probably can't manipulate, Ella thought wryly. She doubted she could win him over with a smile. The man probably didn't know what one was.

The car stopped in front of the Grey residence and Ella paused before getting out of the car.
First she would deal with her family. Then she would figure out how to deal with this new threat.

By Lt. Cmdr. Tim O'Connell
and
Lt. Cmdr. Brooke O'Connell

ON: Liam had gotten a fist full of grass and proceeded to eat it. Brooke put the book down and went to him, pulling it out from between his fingers. She picked him up and then went back to where she was sitting, "It amazes me how great of a digestive system children have."

Tim washed his son's hands quickly, " Yeah, It's amazing what kids can eat. " Then he teasingly chided his son, "Liam m'boy, you know if you want dinner, Mom and I will take you out..."

"Hey Liam, I think that we'd better take him up on it. What do you think?" She got a kick out of his response. "Well, then let's go. Dinner is served."

It had been a while since they ate somewhere that wasn't on a ship. It was such a change. They even had a highchair for the child. Liam was given a cracker which Liam wasted no time breaking it up into small pieces. Brooke ordered a passion fruit iced tea.

Tim ordered something similar she had taught him the benefits of passionfruit and he did enjoy it.

Brooke ordered her dinner and finger foods for Liam. The waitress poured her another glass. Liam was just learning to drink out of a sipper cup. He was doing a few things a little earlier than what the experts say.

Tim watched his son who ate as he nibbled on a sandwich. Liam was adding more food to his face and Tim took his share of cleanup duties with his son.

Brooke looked around, "Thanks for suggesting this place. I had almost forgotten what real food tastes like. I also forgot how crowded restaurants get."

"Well you can only have so many replicated meals before you get sick of it."

They continued to talk, once in a while, holding hands across the table. Once dinner was finished and desert was consumed they left the restaurant. Liam was happy now that he had a full tummy.

Tim picked up his son who was happy and starting to doze some, he always did after dinner, "you know who he reminds me of my Uncle Robert after thanksgiving."

She laughed, "Oh yes, how can we forget him. I remember that one time when we had just all finished dinner and were sitting at the table when all the sudden, the room echoed with the loudest snore I had ever heard. I swear that if we had allowed him to sit there any longer, we'd be cleaning mash potatoes off his face."

Tim chuckled, and cradled his son, "Well Liam's gonna be out like a light soon. What movie did you want to see tonight and how much did you want to see?" He teased her some.

How about we skip the movie, set a fire in the fireplace and then snuggle up to the fire? She was one for romance.

Tim smiled, "Now that's not a bad idea, Make love in front of the fire. It's been a while since we've done that."

"A very long time since we've done anything especially after Liam has been born. Plus, we were always kept so busy on the ship."

"We're not busy now." He kissed her, then they stepped in the turbolift, "and Liam's gonna be out tonight."

She smiled, "Oh I'm counting on that."

"Why do you think he had turkey." Tim had a crafty smile. Then when they got in their apartment he took the time to put his son down for the night with fresh diapers and changed for bed, Brooke normally did a lot of the 'mommy' stuff but he took over this one.

She was trying to figure out if she had forgotten some anniversary or what. She decided to take that time to take a shower and get all pretty for Tim.

Once Liam was asleep he lit a fire in the fireplace he removed the bottle of champagne two glasses and a small box, it was their third anniversary so he wanted to surprise her.

She got out of the shower and put a white silk negligee and walked out to see that Tim already had everything ready.

When she stepped out he walked over and kissed her, "you look beautiful."

"Thank you. I hope so. I always like to look beautiful for you. You deserve to have the best."

"I do every day." He kissed her, "We've been so busy I almost forgot..." He ran over and got the box inside of it was a diamond necklace. A single stone on a golden chair. "Happy anniversary Brooke."

She looked surprised, "Our anniversary? I feel so bad but refresh my memory." She was trying to think.

"It's been 2 years since we got married. We've been so busy it almost slipped my mind."

Already?" She didn't know how she forgot. They were always so busy on the ship that they never celebrated anything on the exact day so the actual date eluded her, "And I didn't get you anything."

Tim looked at her in the negligee, "Brooke, you don't have to get me anything but the most precious thing you've ever given me...."

She smiled, "Myself? I can do that. Well then, happy anniversary. She dropped the silken negligee which showed off the teddy she was wearing underneath it, "It was a package deal."

He smiled and kissed her, "Actually I was going to say your heart.." Then he examined her figure, if anything motherhood improved her body, adding some more to her chest and a bit more fullness in the hips, "But I'm not complaining about your body ... trust me on that one."

She walked over to him and kissed him, "Well, you've got that too." She didn't reply to the body comment.

He returned her kiss and slipped his arms around her and then softly kissed her neck, "I've missed this Brooke, us together. " His hands softly ran along her body.

"You have me to yourself all night. I'm not going anywhere. There is no sickbay, no crew nothing. Just you and me tonight."

He gently kissed her bare shoulders, "do you want some champagne?"

She nodded, "Campaign sounds nice." She stood there and waited for him to hand her a glass.

He handed her a glass and they sat down by the fire and he slipped an arm around her, "So when do you start teaching cadets?"

"In a week. I am so nervous about it too. I never thought I'd be. After a while, it'll be easy." She took a sip of her drink, the bubbles tickled her nose a bit.

"We'll get to have a house on campus, and 9-5 hours. Liam will love it." He smiled and kissed her, "And I can go back and get that tactical training I wanted to do, it's already been approved."

6 months later..........

"Okay gang. Test tomorrow. Please remember to come on time and prepared. A great deal of you have been slacking off a bit." Moans and groans were heard throughout the lecture hall. Brooke watched as her class left until it was finally quiet.

Tim leaned against the wall and watched her, his tactical group had let out early. He smiled and headed down. One of the cadets stopped him, "Well sir, I'd be careful Professor O'Connell will rip your heart out if you're not careful."

Brooke yelled out, "I heard that." Brooke smiled, "See you tomorrow, bright and early. Gee, I'd hate to have to flunk you." He left very quickly and Brooke laughed, "I think he has a crush on me."

"That's because he has excellent taste." Tim said and softly kissed her, "So you're giving a test tomorrow eh?"

"Yep. Got to keep these kids on their toes." She piled her stuff together and picked it up, "Next week, Klingon anatomy."

"Did I ever have a class in that?" He asked as he helped her gather up stuff. "I think I missed that one."

"It's quite interesting. Did you know that they actually have two sets of vital organs? Anyway, it should be fun. Besides, it beats dissecting frogs."

"Well we can't dissect a klingon can we?" He teased her. Slipping an arm around her waist he gave her a small hug. "C'mon let's go eat. Lt Harris and his wife volunteered to watch Liam for the nigh. So we can have a nice evening for the 2 of us."
"The two of us? You speak such strange words hu-man. I do not know this "two of us." She teased, "I must study this 'two of us' that you find so important."

He smiled and kissed her. "Then we'll have a study of this two of us."

She started to laugh, "I have this cute little number that is perfect for studying."

Tim smiled, "I have to see this cute little number." They began to walk along the quad, sometimes holding hands, sometimes stopping to admire flowers or swap a kiss or two. He didn't snag any for her because Boothby wouldn't find that a good idea.

They walked into their place and it was so quiet. She turned to him, "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, Silence. No Liam." He slipped his arms around her and kissed her, "Now ... want to watch a movie?"

"Is that we call it?" She smiled, "I don't think we've ever watched a movie all the way to the end."

"Nope, and I do intend to keep our streak alive." He kissed her lips softly, "What about that little short number?"

She took off her shoes, "Well, I could go take a shower and then model it for you. Or we could just skip the putting it on completely."

"Well let's save that for later because right now, I don't think it would last long." He hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes.

"Oh?" She smiled, "I'm that irresistible."

He slipped his arms around her and kissed her quite passionately, "Yes absolutely."

"Ah." she kissed him back just as passionate, "Well, you are also just as irresistible." She whispered in his ear, taunting him.

His hands caressed her body, then he began to kiss the side of her neck, finding the spots she liked.

She said softly, "Let's do it...right here...right now." It had been a while since they were able to be spontaneous.

By this time Tim had gotten her jacket and uniform tunic open and off, As he continued to caress her the idea of making love right here in the living room was a great idea and he began to slowly move her to their couch.

On the way to the couch, his clothes seemed to have started to come off too. They both were burning with a desire for each other.

Soon they were entangled together no one knew when one body ended and the other began, their lovemaking was fiery intense, passionate.

Before they knew it, they feel off the couch. Brooke looked at him and started to laugh. They had never done that before.

Tim kissed her and held her close as they laid on the floor together, "boy when we make love the earth really does move."

That made her laugh even more, "I think we need a wider couch." She laid her head on his chest, "I kind of like it down here."

He chuckled, "Well we can work that in to our new quarters....."

It was nearing finals and Brooke was preparing the final test. She decided to stay after for a few hours which turned into more than a few hours. She hadn't noticed that it was dinner time.

Tim walked in and began to massage her shoulders, "Professor O'Connell, are you working late?"

She looked up, "Oh my. What time is it? I didn't mean to stay so late." She went back to the final questions of the test.

"It's 8 pm, I'm supposed to be getting results of the tactical qualifiers next week. " He kissed her, "And you are working too hard."

"I'm not working enough I think. Only about 75% are passing and the other 25% will pass depending on this final grade." She interrelated slackers.

He watched her, grade and went back to massaging her shoulders, "Well I've seen how hard you work to help if they don't pass you can't exactly give them the answers can you?"

"No, I suppose not." She looked up at him, "They are lucky I grade on the curve." He chuckled, "They are."

She gathered up her stuff, "Ready to go? I just need to figure out everyone's final grades but I can do that later."

He looked at her, "Well I'm ready when you are Dr O'Connel." He kissed her cheek once, "Or we can finish the grades then make out in the classroom."

"I don't think so. Nice try Hon." She playfully pushed him towards the door, "Get going lover boy."

He chuckled and took her hand, "C'mon Hon, let's go...dinner awaits."

More time had passed and both were having a great time doing what they were doing but Brooke had to admit that she really enjoyed being up in space on a ship. A student had collapsed in front of her and Brooke helped the kid, saving his life. That is when she realized that she missed being a doctor. Brooke didn't know how to approach Tim about going back and serving on a ship again. To her, it seemed like he was happy doing what he was doing.

Though he was glad when the classes were over. All he wanted to do was get out and do his job. There weren't much in the way of tactical officer work except for in classrooms or on a ship and he didn't want to teach.

Heading home he kicked off his shoes and picked up their now three year old son. "Hey Brooke."

She seemed a little down, "Hi." You'll never believe the day I had. I actually got to save student's life. Poor kid. He didn't realize that he was allergic to formaldehyde." She busied herself in the kitchen while she told him all about it.

He noticed it, and walked in to the kitchen to help, "I finished tactical training 3 weeks ago and I'm getting sick of being a glorified yeoman. " He sighed, "Brooke, are you happy teaching?"

She put the knife down, "Funny you should mention that. I was just thinking about it and to tell you the truth..." she paused, looking straight at him, "No, I'm not."

"I figured you wouldn't be." He said, "I could put in for a transfer immediately, you wanna go out to space?"

"I sort of already looked into it. I'm sorry but I was talking to one of the Admirals and he told me of two ships that were available for what we needed."

"Which two?" He asked.

She hesitated a bit, "Well...one of them isn't really set up for families but this other one is. How does the USS Galaxy sound?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Sounds like going home week."

"Yes, it does. But we need to decide now. The positions won't be open for long. He needs our answer like yesterday." She sat down at the table.

He didn't hesitate, she was bored here he was bored here, Liam would get more at a school shipboard, "When do we leave?"

"Well, first, I need to contact Starfleet and tell them we want the jobs and then we need to pack up to get on board by next week."

"Excellent." He kissed her, "Back to Space eh?"

She looked up at him, "I was hoping you felt the same way. If you didn't, I don't know what I would have done."

"Pack up commander we've got new adventures ahead..."

"Nn-e-e-e-x-tt . . . ."
Lt. Jeremy Savoie Asst. Chief Helmsman
Fleet Capt. John Q. Bhrode CO, USS Galaxy

And unauthorized mentions of:
Lt. Vladimir Malgin ACMO

Lt. Cmdr. Electra Reece Chief Operations Officer

Jeremy sat mindlessly staring out the viewport of the makeshift waiting room, relieved that he could sit in silence while awaiting the fateful meeting with Bhrode.

From time to time he cast his glance toward the yeoman receptionist -- who was busily attending to her duties -- ready for her to say something to interrupt his blissful isolation. Fortunately for her, she had wisely decided to avoid any further interaction with the steely lieutenant.

All too soon, the silence was broken as another young lieutenant came into the room.

"..You're here to see Captain Bhrode, lieutenant?" the receptionist asked. Jeremy unobstrusively waited to see if she would mind-read this guy too.

Carefully sifting through the man's rather significant Russian accent as he exchanged words with the yeoman, Jeremy discovered that this guy was going to be the ship's Assitant CMO.

Assuming he survived the interview.

After a few minutes, he seated himself in the chair opposite Jeremy and jittered. . . his hands and feet moving incessantly as he mumbled to himself. Jeremy glanced up at him, praying to God he would never be 'under the knife' with this guy in charge.

Suddenly, the door to the makeshift ready room hissed open as a tall, slim woman with lusterous hair swept back in a ponytail came out. She looked a little miffed, but none the worse for wear. Very striking but aloof.

Without a glance, she wafted past the glowering pair of lieutenants and left, the Betazoid scurrying into the Captain's office in her wake.

~~She must be the weird one,~~ Jeremy thought to himself.

The Russian doctor turned from his rapt gaze of the departed officer, looked over to Jeremy and raised one eyebrow, lips pursed in a low whistle. "Is to be being woman of quality werrrrrrrrrryyyyyyy fine? Nyet?" [OOC disclaimer: Vladimir, I hereby want to make it known that -that- line came from Liam, -not- me!][OOC2-Liam: Chekov said somethinglike it in TOS! Not my fault!]

Having 'heard' the doctor's comment, the young Betazoid flushed a deeper shade of crimson as she returned to the waiting area. Keeping her eyes carefully off Jeremy, she said "The. . . Captain... will see you now, Lieutenant Savoie," as she hastily retreated to her desk. She did favour the Russian with a big smile though.

'Was nyet to you. Was for beautiful woman just leavink." the russian was saying as ~~Here we go,~~ Jeremy thought, his stomach tightening in knots as he stood up, leaving his duffels by the chair. His experiences with Captains were always hot or cold: either they were praising his piloting and handing him a promotion, or they were slapping him with a reprimand for his 'attitude.'

Which would this one be like?

-------------

The office was large but cold and impersonal, just as Jeremy had expected. Bare bookcases and tables were scattered before a brushed steel desk, plonked in front of a floor-to- ceiling viewport that overlooked the main bay.

Where normally half-a-dozen enormous 'Ships of the line' would be, only one GALAXY class ship was moored.

Rather. . . *The* GALAXY class ship.

The blocky man with the close shorn grey hair and the impatient attitude snapped at the gawking helsman, breaking the magical mood of the ship in Stardock.

"Do they no longer teach "Reporting for duty" and the salute at the Academy?" he snapped in a voice that was anything but rhetorical.

The trial had begun.

Snapping to attention as if he had been doused with starch and wired to an electrical circuit, Jeremy's hand flew to his forehead as his feet clapped together. It had been ages since the last time he remembered having to do this.

"Yes, sir! Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie reporting for duty, sir!" he barked obediently.

He hated this crap but was wise enough to know to shut up and play the game.

Bhrode grunted and indicated the chairs bolted to the bare deckplates before his desk.

"Thank you, sir!" Jeremy snapped again, stiffly seating himself in the indicated chair.

Bhrode continued just staring at Jeremy, his icy grey eyes seemingly displeased at what was before him. Minutes slunk by.

Jeremy remained seated but at attention, all too aware of the hard pair of eyes that seemed to burrow through to his very soul from the other side of the equally hard desk.

"Well. Where's the snotty little attitude case? This is it? This is what has given you a record from hell? This is what you consider worth a career?" Bhrode finally demanded.

This was the first time anyone had actually seemed disappointed that Jeremy wasn't shoveling attitude at them. What the hell was Bhrode's game? Did he actually -want- Jeremy to piss him off?

Toning down the 'lieutenant-at-attention' thing just a notch, Jeremy asked, his face slightly scrunched with a look of confusion, "Sir? I- . . . I'm not sure I underst- . . . ."

Bhrode cut him off with an abrupt wave of his hand.

"I could care less what your previous oficers liked or didn't like in you. This is not a democracy. We are not having a discussion. This is a starship. More specifically..-MY- Starship." Bhrode fixed Jeremy to the spot with a stare.

"You can consider this carte blanche to run around like a nutcase in your free time, doing whatever amuses you. But the moment you are on duty, the moment MY ship is in your hands, you belong to me body and soul. You do not put your petty concerns and feelings in the way of doing your job. You do not act up, hotshot, or try and impress whoever you're trying to impress. You pilot my ship the way you were taught and you keep your yap shut. Is that clear mister Savoie?" Bhrode barked out.

Without waiting for Jeremy's acknowledgement, Bhrode plowed on.

"I've seen your kind before. You have a gift and think that it gives you special rights. Well, maybe it did before. Not here. Not now. You keep your nose clean and out of trouble, do your job and we'll see about pulling your career out of the crapper. Unless... you really want to pilot garbage service flitters and messenger runabouts for the rest of your career? But if you want to pilot the big ships,you have to at least learn to LOOK like you're bending to the bastards." Bhrode said.

Then he scared the pants right off Jeremy.

He smiled.

"How do you think I got to where I am? By kissing the ass of some idiot bastard? Or by doing what I wanted, within their asinine rules and regulations? Get out of my office Mister Savoie, unless you have something further to add?"

Jeremy was so disoriented he wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but completely as a reflex, he abruptly stood and looked hard at Bhrode. He most certainly -did- have something to add.

Then for better or worse, his jaw froze as something deep inside his mind said, ~~Shut your fucking mouth, idiot. He's actually willing to help you keep your career on track! ~~

Jeremy's defiant stance instantly transformed itself back to one of attention.

"Yes, sir," was all he said, but with much less snap than before.

Then, a voice spoke up from behind Jeremy. A voice he knew and didn't like.

"I don't know Captain. I don't think he understands. . ." Lysander said.

"The Commander has a valid point sir. While the Lieutenant's record hardly aspires to the level of slavish idiocy the Commander has achieved, I also have concerns about his maturity." the slim redhead spoke up from the shadowed conference table she was ensconced in, pouring over records with Commander Hawksley.

"Yes, because I know dumb insolence when I. . . .hey!" Hawksley added.

"Zip it you two. Go get Wonder boy someplace to lay his over-inflated head. I have some more words of wisdom for the Lieutenant." Bhrode ordered.

An icy sniff from the Redhead and a muttered curse from Hawksley led to their departure.

As he watched the two silent-til-now Commanders leave the room, Jeremy's blood started to boil. He didn't know who the redhead was, but the mouthy one . . . it was like re-living a bad nightmare.

Serving on the same ship with 'Lizzie', as Jeremy used to call him back on the City of St. Louis, would be almost more hell than it was worth.

But it -was- worth it to him in the end, putting up with Bhrode or a hundred Lizzie's. Being assigned as helmsman to a ship like the Galaxy was a positive twist of fate Jeremy would never have dreamed would come his way now.

He had to know what rare cosmic event brought him here.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Bhrode stared at him for several long hours, or so the seconds seemed. Finally, his face unreadable, he nodded assent.

"So why me? If my 'maturity' is such an issue as Commander whats-her-name seems to think, why go out of your way to find and resurrect the career of a trouble-maker like me?" Jeremy asked, his voice tinged with his usual attitude.

Bhrode let out a sigh.

"Did you hear a word I just said, son? That was Commander Whassername VonEnrst. She and the other officer are my Executive officers. Their opinions of everything are important to me. Including their opinions of you. I'm trying to tell you that there is a TIME AND PLACE FOR ACTING LIKE AN AIRHEAD CIVILIAN, AND THIS IS NOT THE TIME OR THE PLACE!" Bhrode thundered.

Jeremy just glared back, silently hoping he wasn't about to be shot out an airlock.

"Listen to me and listen good. You have, for whatever reasons -I- have decided on, been given this chance. If you blow it, there will be no more chances. You WILL be assigned to flying idiots around some base in the ass end of nowhere, you can bet I will see to that. I will also make it my mission to see you flying the rustiest, most beat up hover car they have. So you can stand there and prove Hawksley and VonErnst correct by pissing me off, or you can salute, get the hell out of my office, and go do your job well enough to rub their faces in it. Your choice, Lieutenant Savoie. It's all your choice. It always has been. Dismissed." And Bhrode turned back to his paperwork.

So Jeremy saluted and got the hell out of Bhrode's office.

And vowed to do his job well enough to rub those two smug jackasses' faces in it.

"Sonic Blast"
by
Fleet Captain John Q. Bhrode, CO
Lieutenant Vladimir 'Sonic' Malgin, ACMO
brief unauthorized appearance of Jeremy Savoie, AFCO

~So we're enjoying few final minutes of my life. I doubt that mr. discipline will spend much time with that Flight Control Officer. He will look at him and under his medusa's sight, the poor boy will turn into a statue, only capable of saying 'yes, sir!' and 'at once, sir!'. I can bet it...~ thought Vladimir. It was the only his thought that considered Bhrode and passed censorship. He sighed, looking at USS Galaxy through window ~Vladya, Vladya... You're sure, that you will be able to set your foot in the sickbay of that Baby-A? You'll exit this place in a trash heap, in a company of many other unfortunates, with a lot aching bones nd maybe few broken ones, so pray to God, while you still can...~

His thoughts were interrupted by hissing sound of sliding door. Vladya turned his sight at Lt. Savoie, apparent Assitant Cheif Flight Control officer, that exited Captain's ready room and walked away. On his exhausted face was a smile.

~Lucky, son of a b***c! He seem to have passed this thing.~ Vladimir looked around... He was alone (not counting yeoman), so not a person would pat him on the shoulder and wish good luck in this jorney to the beast.

"Good Luck Lieutenant!" said the pretty, Betazoid Yeoman, interrupting Vladya's thoughts.

With a deep breath he stood up and headed to the gates of hell, but stopped near yeoman. "If I won't return, count me a communist hero, killed in action." he said to that poor young girl and entered the lair of the beast... With 'evil duty smile #4'...

"We'll send flowers. . . red ones!" he heard her call out with a giggle as the doors hissed closed behind him.

At the massive metal, brushed steel desk, the Captain looked up from his papers and PADDs and glowered darkly.

Behind him, the ship filled the massive window.

The Captain's wave encompassed the two other officers, sitting at opposite ends of the five chairs bolted to the deck in front of the desk.

"Ahhhhh... my other witty tongued and acerbic 'problem'.... you know the Commanders?" Bhrode said with an expansive grin.

The tiny redhead just ignored Malgin, Lysander gave him a nod of greeting. The Captain kept smiling. Something was up.

Vladimir made out a minus 100 degrees by Fahrenheit smile "Yes, sir, I know them. Commander Hawksley (nod), Commander VonErnst. Very pleased to meet you, sirs. I am lieutenant Vladimir Malgin, Assigned Assistant Chief of Medical Officer." INternally Vladimir hated this procedure, this words and other discipline-related-stuff, but he emembered old proverb "When you're on a ship of jackasses, you'll have to be jackass too." *Author slaps himself* *Editors slap Author for good measure* Sorry, meant to say "When you're in Rome, do as Romans do"

"Well, this is my problem. The first time I commanded Galaxy, I was less than impressed with my Medical staff. Basically, I had the overwhelming desire to shoot them all, stuff the bodies into a torpedo and fire that into the nearest star. You served under Dorthan, I'm sure you can relate." Bhrode replied

Both Lysander and Rebecca had to roll their eyes at that.

~I KNEW that! Oh, God there will come a day, when you'll be laying under MY knife with appendicitis and then I will have my revenge, you fat slime!~ thought doctor. IF he head any good thoughts about Bhrode (in sub-conscience), they all disappeared now. Vladimir opened his mouth to say something of his famous style, but...

Bhrode cut Malgin off with a wave. "No, don't speak yet Lieutenant. This is the part where you listen. Starfleet is still a military organization. Me Command, you obey. You will be working under Doctor O'Connell. She is a fine CMO and officer and a helluva nice lady." And here Bhrode's smile died.

"You are to be not such a nice person. YOU are to be her hatchet person, stooge, throat slitter, and all around nasty bastard and a half. I want the injured treated and sent back to duty with a minumum of fuss and bother. I do NOT want malingerers, whiny babys, headcases, insane people, or immature idiots considering my Sickbay their "home away from home."" Bhrode continued.

"Do not test me Lieutenant. I am not like any other officer you have served under. If someone has a problem with you carrying out MY orders, I will break that person. If you decide to 'adjust' my orders for your own amusement, I will break you. If you fail to keep a lid on Medical, or otherwise fail to do your job, I will break you. Are we clear on those salient points, Lieutenant Malgin?" Bhrode demanded, with a gaze that could cut hull armor.

Vladimir cleared his throat, ready to tell lil' ol' Butt-man all what he was thinking about him. Despite of cold external view, all his internal himself was boiling. ~Stooooop, Sonic! It is not a time, when you say anything to this oldjackass! Time will come! HEEEY! You hear me? Slicing his throat - not now; showing respect, discipline and obedience -Now and without a second thought!~. He finally said "Sickbay is like a fortress, Captain. If somebody enters that place, he won't exit from there without being completely knit back together. And when this happens, that person will surely recieve a kick in their ass, sending them on their duty stations. Sickbay is a place of law and discipline. And the discipline will be maintaned, even if it will requre deadly
injections."

"Fine. I knew I liked you for a reason. Go forth and conquer Lieutenant Malgin. Just remember that if you cross me, you'll be treating frostbite at the Breen embassy, or giving Veneral Disease checkups to the workers at that brothel owned by... what's the little fart's name again?" Bhrode demanded.

"Leo Streely." answered Lysander.

The Tiny Redhead raised an eyebrow and considered her counterpart with a cool and level gaze. Bhrode chuckled to himself.

"What? He came into money and bought a pleasure planet!" Lysander replied, looking hurt.

"The Commander's familiarity with brothels aside, may I suggest that Lieutenant Malgin might, perhaps, enjoy a re-posting to Novo Moscovia station instead of Breen?" the redhead Malgin barely recognised as the 'Stuttering Tac-Weenie' of yore said, her voice flat and emotionless.

Vladimir's heart sank to his knees as he heared the comment of that girl-in-red. ~Not a chance, lads! If you will repost me THERE, I will commit a suicide right HERE. Of course, before this I will pump a loads of interesting-medical-preparates in 'em all, so their blood will boil LITERALLY!~

"Your sickbay awaits you, Doctor Malgin. Meet with Ames-O'Connell when she arrives, and the pair of you set up things as you see fit. Dismissed." Bhrode barked out.

Apparently in this few seconds, Vladimir made a World record in sprint. He almost shot himslef away from that place which he just passed, barely having time to nod before his legs carried him out. When door slid closed behind his back, he let out a satistied groan. ~Yeeeeeaaahh... I did it! Barely,but DID it! Tyrant allowed me to stay! When I had moment of SUCH a satisfaction and happiness in my life before this moment?.. This is the first and the best moment. Hundred percent!~

The pretty young Betazoid Yeoman looked up from her paperwork as Malgin exited the office. She broke into a smile.

"You lived! Does this mean I can keep the flowers?" She indicated the vase with two perfect Terran roses in them on her desk with a smile.

Vladimir answered through the laugh "Don't be so speedy to bury me! Grave will wait till I have done enough in MY sickbay! Keep this flowers if you wish, yeoman. If you stay with Bhrode, YOU will need TWO flowers." Not caring to say'good bye' he exited the waiting room.

The Betazoid gazed after him with an admiring look.

"A Rose by Any Other Name. . . "
By: Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen-Corina
(NPC)Karyn Shinta MacAllen
Fleet Captain John Bhrode

**Spacedock Two**

Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen was walking towards Bhrode's office to report in, the young Betazoid mother was pushing her daughter Karyn Shinta MacAllen in her little hovercraft.

Since her birth a year ago, Karyn had been tested on why the young girl would never walk in her lifetime. The Doctors told Rose that the guy who raped her passed on to the child, from somewhere in his DNA, a gene that crippelled her only child for the rest of her life.

But Rose, along with her new husband and Karyn's stepfather Rashid ibn Corina(Asst. Chief Enginner on the USS Istanbul which Rose was Chief Science Officer and Second Officer) loved little Karyn dearly.

Karyn, who had her mother's beauty and strongwilled attitude, was sitting in the hovercraft all dressed in red with two little pigtails in her hair playing with a doll that Rashid gave the little girl. A Betaziod doll wearing an green ballgown and have golden hair.

"Mine dolly! the young girl said while hugging on the doll with an smile.

"Yes, and a. . . pretty. . . Dolly it is!" thundered a passing Klingon Officer, clearly confused at why he was singled out by the infant.

While waiting in the outer office to to the Captain's office she was stop addressed by an yeoman in an red uniform, "ma'm? Commander MacAllen? A message from your husband, have an good day."the young Bajoran female said with an smile as she walked off.

Rose was in an shock it only been what..10 hours and Rashid already missed her that much.

In the letter it reads:

My Dearest Rose,

Our apartment on the ship is so empty without you and little Karyn to lighten up the place, I already put in for a transfer to the USS Galaxy but Captain Cooper said it maybe an year before I can get on there. I get we have to keep writing to each other and I will come see you and little Karyn during my shore leaves off this little Nova-Class Starship the USS Istanbul. I love you deeply and nobody will come between us, no woman will every come close to your beauty and strong will so I know you will never look at another man.

May the Gods bless you and Karyn
All of my love,
Rashid

PS: There will be a little gift in your new apartment when you beam to the Galaxy, enjoy my love.

Rose had a little tear in her eyes but wiped it away,she needs to be strong for the Captain when the young officer reports in.

But of course she have grown up alot since the lasttime Rose saw Captain Bhrode, but they do have onething in common: They both hate Autumn!

**Bhrode's office, Spacedock Two**

While waiting outside Rose was playing with her daughter, little Karyn smiles at her mother.

For sure Karyn does have Rose's smile, not only that she got her mother beauiful, free spirit and strongwilled attitude.

It have been said by many former officers from the last Galaxy that Rose have grown up alot since her last post on the Galaxy. Now, she had an husband who loves her dearly, a beautiful daughter who worships her mother, Rose also went to Command school where she grew up a little more while sitting in the Captain's Chair.

In the Captain's Chair she can feel the power and the responsiblity of being in command of an ship, even the loss of crewmembers under her command which Rose knew and felt after taking over the Battle Bridge on Price's Galaxy during that last mission she was on before giving birth.

Rose put her thin and gentle fingers though her now short-blond hair, last time Bhrode had seen the young Betazoid she had long brown hair in an tight bun. New look, new attitude...

The Betazoid Yeoman who worked for the Captain smiled at the baby. "She's adorable Ma'm! How old is she?"

"She almost an year old, Yeoman."

"She's so pretty! I hope that someday, when I have children, they're as beautiful!" the Yeoman cooed. "only.. pardon me for asking.. but.. shouldn't she be trying to crawl if she's almost a year old?" The Yeoman's emotions were apparent to Rose, and she was well meaning, but didn't know about poor little Karyn.

She bit her lip for an second then looked at the yeoman with an smile, "She can never walk because of something that happen to her while I was giving birth to her. But she going to be one of the strongest Betazoid officers in the fleet one day." the older Betaziod said in an strong, happy voice.

A bellow from the office cut off Rose. "YEOMAN! I thought I told you to send in the next officer!" The voice passed through the closed door with ease.

The Yeoman grimaced and rolled her eyes, indcating Rose should step into the office.

"Thank you Yeoman, nice to meet you." Rose said to the young Betazoid while pushing little Karyn's hovercraft into the Captain's office.

The office was bare and imposing. You could see the ship behind the Captain.

"Who's that?" demanded Bhrode, pointing at the baby.

"That is my daughter Captain, her new nanny is not coming for an few more weeks." Rose said in her only commanding voice then smiles at the Captain.

Bhrode glowered, clearly not at ease around the small gurgling infant. The two pairs of eyes locked, Bhrode's steel grey eyes locked on the happy baby, like a Tardassian Devil's right before it pounces. Karyn giggled and cooed.

Bhrode got up and tugged his tunic down, then he stalked around his desk and leaned over the carriage. "Well.. I just wanted to say... urm... you did a good job on the Galaxy the last time. . . and . . . dammit.."

"Ammit!" gurgled Karyn.

"Sorry! Do a good job for me now. I need experienced officers like you, to help out some of these new kids." Bhrode continued, still staring at the baby.

Then Bhrode surprised her, he leaned over the baby's hoverchair and made faces at her, drawing out tiny giggles from the happy baby.

Young Karyn giggles as she trying to pat the Captain on the head. Bhrode smiled as he allowed the baby to grab onto one of his thick, blocky fingers. No one would have believed their eyes that he wasn't trying to eat the baby or something.

The young officer smiles at the both of then, this was a side of Bhrode she never seen before but Rose also had an feeling he wanted to keep it between the both of then.

"You know I will help an anyway Captain, I just glad to be back on the Galaxy it like coming back home."

Bhrode paused, his face unreadable.

"There were some. . . concerns I had about you. I won't lie. But, I reviewed you files. The CO of Istanbul says you did a damn fine job for him. I'm sure that, as your. . . personal . . .problems are resolved, you will continue to do so here, for me." Bhrode's hand waved at Karyn.

Little Karyn smiles back while waving her little hand around, Rose looked at the man and said, “I understand sir I don’t have very much
personal problems like I have in the past. I have an few but that mostly it sir.”

"I have to cut this short, Commander. I haven't selected a Chief Science Officer yet. For the time being, you will report to Commanders VonErnst and Hawksley. Now you take this pretty little lady and get her settled in her new home." Bhrode's eyes went distant for a moment.

"Between you and I... if there is anything you need to . . .help her. Say the word. I never liked the idea of families in space, but it looks like we're stuck with it. Life is gonna be hard for that little lady. Anything I can do to help, I will." Bhrode said, his hands turning a PADD over and over, clearly uncomfortable.

“No problem sir, just between me and you..got it.”

"Well, don't just STAND there! Get to work!" Bhrode said, with a smile, dismissing her.

The young Betazoid smiles while saying, “Aye sir!”then Rose pulled herdaughter out the door.

Little Karyn looked back with her dark eyes to the Captain and said,“Bye-Bye.”

“Time For Ice Cream”

By: Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen-Corina

Karyn Shinta MacAllen (NPC)

**Ten Forward, USS Galaxy**

After Rose and Karyn unpacked some of their stuff in their new apartment on Deck 9, the young Betazoid girl while in her hovercraft yelled for ice cream, so both of the women are walking down towards Ten-Foward to get little Karyn her favoite ice cream: Triple Betazoid Fudge, just like her mother.

They walked as Rose was pulling her little daughter in her hovercraft, Ten-Foward was about the same as the one on Price’s Galaxy but like everything and every room on this ship it was alittle bit bigger. Also the whole ship was empty, Rose was one of the first to report in to the Captain.

As the young science officer sat down right by little Karyn hovercraft an young waitness walked over with an smile. “What can I get you ‘Commander?” the young human waitness said to the Betazoids with an gentle smile.

“Yes we will take two Triple Betazoid Fudge ice creams, please? Better yet make mine an double.” As the young woman walked off the get the order Rose looked over towards her daughter and smiles gently while touching her brown hair, “Were home my little darling, were home.” she whispers to Karyn, then her daughter smiles and giggles back.

"So Familiar, and Yet So New"
(OR: "The blatant attempt to grab a promenade shop before they're all gone")

By Lt. Curtis Geluf, Engineering

"Welcome to the Galaxy sir!" said an enthusiastic transporter Chief after the familiar feel of atom scattering had dissapated.

Curtis and his wife, Kiora looked at the man, smiled and headed for the door.

"Good to be here." said Curtis, "Feels like home."

"Yes sir." the chief replied. "You're expected in the captains ready room as soon as you are settled in."

"Thanks, I'll remember that." said Curtis, who had no intention of seeing John Brohde again until absolutely nessesary.

"Whats say we take a look around?" asked Curtis.

"Fine by me." said Kiora.

Almost everything was the way Curtis had remembered it, save of course for all the new features. Curtis was particularly interested in the new promenade, and he and Kiora made there way to that deck.

Curtis had never seen anything like it. Hundreds of people clamoring about here and there, walking between shops and restraunts. Skimming the available merchants, Curtis spotted a shop of particular interest to him, titled only "Sam's Well-Tempered Klavier" (OOC: All Rights Reserved, any and all naming of NPC staff of said store is the sole right and privilage of Brandon and other acknowledged parties.) Curtis knew he'd be spending a lot of time in that one.

As much as he wanted to look around some more, Curtis thought it best to get to their quarters and then to go have that chat with the Captain. Curtis hoped that perhaps the good captains more "charming" personality traits had subsided.

"A Counselor Is Reborn, Part One"

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN

Admiral Allison Casey, MD
Chief Of Starfleet Medical

"Come on, come on...put me through, dammit. How long can this ta-- Admiral, so good to see you again!" covered Karyn Dallas the moment the visage of the Chief of Starfleet Medical, Admiral Allison Casey appeared on screen.

If Casey had heard or seen any of her earlier annoyance, she hadn't shown it. Normally genuine and warm hearted, especially with Karyn since she and Casey's son Deiran had grown so close, Allison appeared reserved and distant. Despite dropping out of sight for a year, it was quite clear to Karyn she was far from being back in the fleet's good graces. "With only two minutes to spare before we sent you your discharge papers, I had thought you'd given up on us, Counselor. Punctuality was always one of your strong suits, but I suppose several things have changed since you and Dee served together. Now, I suppose this is about your duty status?"

Ignoring the slight, Karyn decided to get right to the point. "Yes, ma'am. With your permission, I'd like to be returned to active duty. I took a long time to think about it, and I want to retain my commission. If you'd care to send me a list of open posts, I'd be happy to discuss them with you..."

"Transmitting orders, now, Commander. Stand by." interrupted Casey.

"What?" she barely had time to stammer out before text was scrolling across her screen. It was as if Allison Casey had been holding her finger over the transmit button from the get go. Knowing Casey, she probably had. Dallas was worried. If she was being given orders this quickly, this was not a good sign. Given Dallas' reputation as of late, she was probably being given an assignment someone else wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. She didn't have to wait in suspense for long.

To: Commander Karyn Elizabeth Dallas, RN
From: Starfleet Command, Bureau of Personnel
Date: 50307.04
Re: Transfer orders.

You are hereby ordered, by Starfleet Command, to report to StarDock Two at
Planetia Utopia Shipyards for assignment to the following ship, prior to her
launch. You are authorized to use any available transit and/or shipping to
report as soon as possible. USS GALAXY NCC-70637/A

In our hand, this stardate:
Fleet Admiral Nakamura, Commander in Chief, UFP-StarFleet
Commodore George Irwin, Commander, BUPERS

Karyn looked up, stunned. "John Brohde's ship. You want me on...you...Admiral, you can't be serious. John Brohde is an arrogant, sexist bastard who cares more for Fleet politics and procedure than for command and crew!"

"That's a terrible way to talk about your new Commanding Officer, *Commander.*"

"He murdered one of my patients for the gods' sake, not to mention how he undermined every bit of authority and loyalty amongst my crew. His command was based on fear. As a healer, how can you allow that?"

Allison looked as though she were trying to be extremely patient, although not quite suceeding. "As you are well aware, Counselor, the Galaxy is no longer as safe a place as it once was. At a time when our 'allies' would shoot us in the back while pretending to be our partners in peace, we can't afford to pretend we live in the same universe anymore. I realize Brohde's methods are a bit harsh, but unfortunately his vigilance is what we need right now. Peace is expensive, Commander, and as healers and as Starfleet Officers we have to consider the greater good of the entire Federation first and foremost. Sacrifices must be made if we are to remain secure and free citizens."

Karyn was still blanching from the references to being shot in the back. It was no coincedence Casey had chosen those words. "Admiral, discipline and protocol have their places certainly, but I am not willing to sacrifice crew morale or care for the meaner, safer Starfleet. There is still such a thing as fairness and respect, tact in the very least. People may have hurt us Admiral, but if we let our fear and anger take over, we lose sight of what it is we're trying to protect. John Brohde has his own agenda, and I can assure you he cares very little for much else."

"Then it's your job to make him care, Commander. You're not obligated to like the man, Karyn. You got lucky with Price, but ultimately, you're expected to be an advisor and healer, and a big mouth if necessary, which comes naturally to you I know. We never stopped caring about anything, we're just shifting focus, and it's your job to balance it all out, cover the bases. You'll need to be the voice of reason once again, but a team player as well."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" It came out more of a statement than a question.

"I never said that in so many words. But consider this, some of your former crewmates in addition to some fresh faces *will* be shipping out on the Galaxy - A under John Brohde, and someone will be assigned to her counseling department. If you are as devoted to this crew as you claim to be and your sacrifice on lanjep is to mean anything, how can you abandon them now? Can you trust that the person responsible for their emotional well-being will go to bat for them like you can? It's time for you to swallow your damn pride, Counselor, and get back to work. You're to report to Utopia Planetia as soon as possible. I've made arrangements for you via the Betazed Embassy. You leave in two hours. Casey out."

And just like that, she was an officer again. It was hardly a promising return.

"Hot Properties and New Faces"

Featuring:
Lieutenant Calvin D’Neer, Assistant Chief of Operations (APC) AND Lieutenant j.g. Cameron Bartlett, OPS (APC)

Location: Promenade Deck

Calvin D'Neer walked with a loose and ready grace down the deck, glancing at the unopened shops and bars around him. He had arrived on board and had his interview with his new captain a few hours before. He had yet to meet his department head, the computer having told him she was not on board, though she had checked in.

Having never served on a Galaxy-class ship before, Cal was strolling the ship to familiarize himself with her. He knew the design, though not all of the new changes, but he liked to be able to visualize it in his mind. Blueprints and schematics just didn't cut it for him.

Just like when you were playing tennis and had to see yourself hitting the ball in your head, he had to see the decks he was allocating for to do his job right. This deck truly amazed him. The ship was almost a warp-capable space station. He smiled wryly as he thought about the captain's reaction to the idea. He would probably blow a gasket and scream about not being the captain of a bleepity bleep cruise ship.

Calvin hadn't met the captain until today but he knew the type. One of his first tennis coaches was like that. That was one thing that Calvin missed. He had seen the standard gymnasium but no tennis court. He supposed he would be stuck playing on the holodeck. He sighed at that. It just wasn't the same somehow as playing on real grass or clay or even tile.

Smiling at an approaching crewman, he turned towards the nearest turbolift to continue his tour, almost bumping into a man staring glassily into one of the store windows. --- Cameron Bartlett shrugged off the apology of the man behind him as he stared transfixed at the sign in the bookstore window: Dragon's Pages Presents Shakespeare, Milton, Spenser, Angelou, Chaucer, Brooks, Christie, Poe, and MORE... Original Bound Editions or PADDs Come Browse and Enjoy His eye was then caught by a nearby placard announced the opening of a poetry bar across the promenade: Griffin's Swing and Jam Bar Open Every Day and All Night Poetry Readings, Swing Dancing, Jazz Jams Join Us and Jive! Grinning, Cam memorized the location of the store and the bar. He would definitely check out both when they opened.

"Computer, location of Electra Reece?"

= Lieutenant Commander Reece is not on board the Galaxy. =

He sighed. The answer had been the same every time he had checked for the past three hours. He wished she would get back. He knew she had checked in and he longed to see her. ~ Oh, Lexa. I was a fool to stay away. I miss you. Where are you? ~ He strolled to the lift and got in, sighing and day-dreaming of Lexa's face when he saw her again.

"A Counselor Is Reborn, Part Two"

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN

Wes Crawford, PhD
Private Psychologist
Janaran Falls, Betazed

"How the hell did I accumulate so much crap?" muttered Karyn to no one in particular as she looked around in small villa in Janaran Falls, Betazed she had rented for her year long hiatus. The only items which did not belong to her were the furniture. Everything else she'd 'acquired' over several trips to the local shops. In a year she'd managed to build quite a cozy home for herself. It was too bad she was going to have to leave in less than two hours.

"Some might consider it typical 'nesting' behavior.'" answered an amused voice behind her. Karyn spun around, a sly smile on her face. Wes Crawfordand she had been friends since college. He now had a successful psychotherapy practice in town, and for the past year Karyn had tried to convince herself she could be happy and successful there as well.

"I thought that only applied to birds and pregnant women?" she replied with a smile.

Wes propped himself up on the arm of her couch. His dark hair and torquoise eyes were usually filled with mirth, but were now rather thoughtful. "I was hoping you'd be happy here, Kar, but to be honest, I knew you weren't going to be from the moment you agreed to come here. You belong out there," he said, pointing upwards, "you always have. There's nothing here for you except bad memories and obnoxious clients. Though I do give you an A for effort." He added, gesturing to her cozy surroundings.

"Was it that obvious?"

"You forget whom you're talking to." he teased. "No matter how many shopping sprees you go on, no matter how hard you try to build a life here that is somehow supposed to be better than what you had, you know it never will be."

"Why did you let me come here then, Wes?" She was caught between anger and awe.

"Because you needed time and a friend more than you needed a lecture, but now it's time to stop sulking and get back to what you love. You hate it here, Kar, I know you do, and what's more I don't want someone here whose entire attitude says 'I'm just doing this until something better comes along.' We can't all be in Starfleet, and we're not bad people because we never wanted to be."

"Great. On one side I'm practically being guilted into returning to duty, and now you're kicking me out. John Brohde's going to hand me my ass on a silver platter, and I'll be lucky if I emerge with my dignity in tact, and yet somehow, I'm the one who's characterized as trying to be better than everyone else." She returned to her packing.

"The Karyn I knew lived for the struggle. She never took her life for granted, and in doing so found pleasure in everything. You opened the Academy to the disabled against tremendous opposition and refused to give up. Where did that determination go, Kar?"

"I think it disappeared some time after I became known as 'that woman who nearly got her captain killed and destroyed Federation diplomacy as we know it.' I did what I thought was right and I'm being punished, Wes, and as long as that sexist bastard is in charge, I can expect to continue to pay for it, and it's the crew who will suffer. My own department is treating me as persona non grata. I'm not in a position to be making waves, and you and everyone else is asking me to sit back and take it while I'm penalized until someone else who has know idea what it was like decides I've had enough."

Wes sighed in frustration. "We're asking you to get on the damn shuttle. You'll have plenty of time to spread good cheer once you arrive. I'm sending someone to escort you in one hour and forty-five minutes to the Betazed Embassy where you will await your shuttle to Utopia Planetia. If I have to carry you kicking and screaming, you're going. Pack what you can now, and we'll see the rest gets to you."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Karyn to contemplate the true meaning of tough love.

Lt. Jeremy Savoie Helmsman

Lt. Vladimir Malgin ACMO

Location: The Red Dwarf Lounge, Utopia Planetia
--------------------------------------------------

Having survived his ordeal with Brhode, Jeremy had been assigned to temporary 'quarters', such as they were, and spent a couple hours relaxing there. It was now time to get that beer he had promised himself.

After consulting the map that the transporter operator had downloaded into his PADD earlier, Jeremy located a place called 'The Red Dwarf Lounge'.

"Ah, that's the ticket," he said upon making his discovery.

It took some careful map-reading to get there, but as Jeremy passed through the double doors that silently slid open, revealing the Lounge, he was amazed.

'Huge' was an understatement.

The cavernous establishment occupied the vertical equivalent of three decks and was bustling with people. Many were seated, others were standing, while still others were out on the large dance floor that filled the far end of the place, a good distance from where Jeremy had just entered, gyrating to the rhythms of the latest Terran pop. There were several bars, innumerable tables and all kinds of balconies, nooks and crannies scattered throughout the place, with waiters scurrying in the midst of it all like hyperactive rats in a maze. Any thoughts that Jeremy had had of finding some tiny smoke-filled hovel occupied by crusty old curmudgeon spacefarers and dock workers were summarily dismissed from his mind.

But easily, the most impressive sight was the imposing view of Mars that filled the entire three-decks-worth of transparent wall to the left.

The sight left Jeremy speechless as he gazed at the ruddy Martian globe that seemed on the verge of leaping into the room from hundreds of miles below. Growing up in space, Jeremy had seen many lounges on various starships, starbases and other fleet facilities, but nothing even came close the this.

From the equally-huge window-wall on the right, an incredible view of the Utopia Planetia fleet docks competed with the view of Mars for the observer's attention. While the grandeur of the first vista spoke of humanity's insignificance in the broad sweep of the galaxy, the second displayed how much human being had accomplished in spite of that insignficance.

It was the view of the docks that appealed to Jeremy's soul as a pilot, so he descended the three broad steps that led from the entrance onto the main floor of the lounge. Crossing to one of the bars that faced the docks side, he took a place on one of the unoccupied stools.

Behind the bar, several bartenders bobbed and weaved between each other, bouncing back and forth between their clientele at the bar and their considerable cache of every alcohol, synthehol, soft drink and other liquid libation from around the quadrant.

After only a few seconds, one of the bartenders crossed over to where Jeremy sat. She was tall, with a flowing mane of fiery red hair, a flawless, creamy complexion, and deep, glistening, emerald green eyes.

"What can I get you, sailor?" she asked in a friendly alto voice.

For a couple seconds, Jeremy sat transfixed, staring into the green eyes as if he had lost something there.

The bartender smirked and glanced down at the bar impatiently. This wasn't the first attractive young lieutenant she'd seen have trouble requesting a drink.

"Would you like to order a drink or should we just sit here staring at each other for the next hour?" she asked humorously without any trace of annoyance.

"I'll take the staring," Jeremy finally answered. He would gladly have traded ever drinking anything again to spend the next hour gazing into those eyes, uninterrupted.

"Sorry, we're just about out of that right now. Why don't you try something else?" she teased. In truth, she wasn't minding the baby blue eyes on the other side of the bar herself.

Jeremy smiled, maybe even blushed a little, as he thought of several other of her 'qualities' he wouldn't mind staring at.

"Ok, then I'll settle for beer," he answered with mock disappointment.

"'Beer', huh?" she chuckled, half-smiling. "Any particular kind?"

"Any kind you recommend," he replied admiringly.

The redhead just flashed a playful smile, and with that, went off to fill Jeremy's order.

... The dream definately came true. Vladimir was back in the world of living, being not torn apart by Bhrode, Hawksley and ~that tine, damned, f**king and ugly Tac-Weenie girl... If word 'girl' fits her...~. Definately he was happy. And what can Russian do when he is happy? Of course go take some drink, not vodka, samogon, tequila, but just cooling beer.

So without a stop at what-was-named-quarters-here, his legs carried him to 'The Red Dwarf lounge'. ~Great name! Why they hadn't named it like 'All you Brits are dummies'? I guess I will never understand their humor...~ he thought with kind of irony, mixed with disappointment.

Doors slid open... Vladimir's jaw almost fallen on the floor... His eyes almost shot themselves from eyelets. This was an AWESOME place to say the least. Internal himself sounded up ~And you thought it will be sized like ye olde Galaxy's Leo Streely's lounge? Naive, little boy, too naive. So I recommend you to go directly to the bar. This will be right, no?~ Vladimir nodded to his thoughts and walked to the literally endless bar. Finally after a minute or two of searching, he sat on the unoccupied stool near a man-in-red.

"Bartender!" he said in annoyed voice. In next split-second, a different bartender than the one that served his neighbour, came to him.

"Yes, lieutenant? Wanna something to drink or just ?.." bartender sent glance of his eyes on Vladimir.

Vladya looked at him with coldest glance, showing that he was not in the mood to talk to nasty bartenders "Beer. Half a liter. Heineken. Cooled. Thanks." Bartender seemed to understand doctor's unspoken words, so he just nodded and went to fill his order. Russian Doc looked around. This place was really shocking in positive side of word 'shocking'. All these docks, fascinating vew of Mars, a lot of nice looking flowers... and familiar officer to the right of him. He turned his head and looked at man-in-red.

Jeremy of course had seen and heard the rather loud Russian when he arrived at the bar. He had hoped to escape notice.

Feeling the man staring at him, Jeremy begrudgingly returned the look. "Is there something I can do for you, doc?" he asked with mild annoyance.

Vladimir returned a thin smile "Nope. Just noticed that you passed the exam of Captain Bhrode too. My heartfelt congratulations, lieutenant, you're really lucky man. When you exited his lair, I thought that I shall use my medical knowledge on you - you was kinda pale."

Jeremy returned his attention to the red-headed bartender, who had just returned with his beer -- and a smile -- before going off to serve another customer. She noticed the two starfleet men talking and seemed not to want to interrupt. "Damn!" Jeremy muttered as his latest infatuation departed before he could talk more with her. He then shot a look at the doctor as if to say, 'thanks a lot.'

Vladimir raised his hands like in self-defence "Whoa, dude, do not use so harsh words and calm down! You're so irritated... You know, this might lead to heart attack or something worse. So stay cool, OK, lad? Or in other case, your appearances in sickbay might lead to... 'unforeseen consequences'". he smiled.

Now Jeremy -was- irritated.

"-You're- telling -me- to calm down?" he asked incredulously. "Watching you in Bhrode's waiting room, it looked like you were going to explode," he sniffed. He took a good sip of his beer. "Looks like you somehow managed to get through too," he said in an almost disbelieving tone.

"Lad, you see I am always ready to explode, you're right. But explosion in Bhrode's room might lead to arrest, tribunal and death. So I tried to show blind obedience and discipline. And, God witness, I succeeded." Doctor let out a smile "Now the sickbay of Galaxy is my property."

Vladimir took a sip of his Heineken. It was REAL Heineken, just as Vladimir adored it. He moved his glass of beer away. "Well, I am Vladimir Malgin, new Assistant Chief Medical officer of our beloved ship. But friends call me Sonic." He reached to shake the helmsman's hand.

Jeremy regarded the extended hand as if it concealed a joy buzzer or a top secret piece of information. This guy was a live wire if ever there was one
and Jeremy would have much preferred to be conversing with the redhead bartender, not some barely-this-side-of-sane doctor.

Resolving himself to the fact that the Russian wasn't going away, Jeremy half-heartedly returned the handshake.

"Jeremy Savoie. Helmsman. . . . . and friends -don't- call me 'Lad'." He despised feeling talked down to.

Vladimir laughed "Okay, Jeremy. I won't call you 'lad'." He finished his glass of beer and looked on it as if there was a Geenie, who might fill it again at once on his will. ~No, no, boy! No more beer or you won't exit this place on two feet. One 0.5 liter glass is just enough for relaxing~ his brain told him and he mentally agreed with it and turned his head to the FC officer.

"Well, Jeremy, I see that my humble company doesn't fit you. I understand it. It is hard to find man in this quadrant who can stand my company. See ya later, LAD." He let out a snicker and walked out from the bar.

As the strange little man exited, the red-headed bartender returned to supply Jeremy with a refill.

"Where's your friend off to?" she inquired, watching him leave.

"He's -not- my friend," Jeremy mutterred. "Hey, what's your name, by the way?" he asked, his mood shifting abruptly as he changed the subject and focused his attention back to her.

Her emerald green eyes sparkled all the more as she paused, seeming to look him over, inside and out. "Erin," she replied with a grin. Jeremy could swear there was a suggestive edge to that smile -- or was he imagining it?

"Hi, Erin -- I'm Jeremy," he said with a mischievous grin of his own. "Will -you- be my friend?"

"Packing"
by Lt. Edith Monaghan and Hugo Grant

::USS BABYLON::

After her talk with the Captain, she realised she had nothing to do but to wait for Hugo. It was strange...she was leaving again.She had started packing in the bedroom while she tried to think of something else. As usual, she started to sing on the first song that came into her mind. "Obscure the late afternoon with a drape, don't let him follow her latest escape. Or the fanfare of taxis that needlessly played as a forty-watt bulb burns a hole in the shade. Then they got into a passionate fight, now she's lostin the shadows thrown over at twilight..."

"Now I remember why I married you..." Hugo smiled as he dropped a pile of PADDs on the chair having slipped into the room, watchin gand listening as he leant against the bulkhead. "My own private showing."

She turned and looked at him with a smile. "And you can get that whenever you wish..." she said and walked to him, kissing him lightly. "How was your day?"

"Not bad, thanks..." He replied with a crooked smile. "But how about you? Did it go okay?"

"It went as it went...Burton gave his speech and I got my transfer," she kissed his cheek and smiled. "I'll wager he had to blackmail someone into taking me...my new assignment is on a ship called the USS Galaxy. *The* Galaxy"

Hugo gave a bright smile, taking hold of her by the arms. "Congratulations! That's fantastic news...this calls for a celebration you know." He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

She laughed and nodded. "Indeed it does. But we don't have the time...the shuttle leaves at 02:00 hours..." she made a theatrical sigh. "We better pack..."

"That soon?" He asked with a slight frown, his hands slipping down off of her arms.

"Good ol' Mark wants me out as soon as possible, before I start correcting his quoting of D. H. Lawrence's poems..." she said as she touched his cheek with a small smile.

"Perhaps I should stay to do it instead." He said with a wink, his hand covering hers.

"Bloody 'ell..." she looked at him and smiled. God, but she was a sucker for him. That handsome face and that grin he delivered her made her knees weak. "Want to come with me to the USS Galaxy, handsome?"

"Well seeing as I've only been hanging around this place and putting up with Burton for you...I should think so." He said with a laugh, brushing his thump over her lip.

She locked her eyes with his and gave him a warm smile. "I love you, Saxon," she whispered and kissed him before pulling away. "And it's good you're coming along since I've started to pack your gear anyway"

"Oh...why thank you very much..." He muttered good-naturedly as he went through to take a look. "I can't believe this is all happening so quickly..." He said with a quieter tone, moving to see how much he still had to pack.

"Seems like this ship that doesn't going to be there got there, and a Captain named Brhode is taking over...so, he needs a crew. And it seems like my name has been on the transfer lists for quite some time..." she said as she continued to pack.

"Bhrode?" Hugo asked, halting his motions. "As in John Bhrode?"

"Captain John Q. Brhode..." she said and shook her head. "And no one knows what the 'Q.' stands for. A mystery...a real mystery of the fleet..."

Hugo laughed as he continued to pack. "Yes...quite a character that one."

"Four different people warned me and said I should decline the offer," she said and looked at him. "Decline the offer...it's a transfer, not a bloody birthday party invitation"

Hugo's laughter increased. "Love...if you get a transfer for Bhrode...you *don't* turn it down."

She stopped and looked at him. "You know him?" she asked and saw his grin. "Stupid question...you know all the queer characters of the universe...why should I be surprised?"

"Hey..." He pushed her shoulder gently. "Why do I get the feeling I should be offended?"

She laughed and touched his face. "Well...a normal lad *would* be offended...but you're a Marine...so therefore, you only get a *feeling* that you should be offended," she said innocently.

"You'll push me one day...if anyone can, it's you..." He joked, tapping her lightly on the backside.

She laughed and continued to pack their stuff. "Aye...I might and I might not...so, how come you know the infamous John Q. Brhode? Did he save your wee arse or something?"

"Other way around, love." Hugo said with a smile, remembering. "I like him...not many like him in the universe."

She looked at him and chuckled softly. "Not many like you either, Hugo," she said and sat down, watching him. "Lt. Commander Gil told me he was the worse captain she had served under, ever. Or the hardest...Burton warned me, but then again he said I didn't belong here either. And a few others had mixed opinions. But from what I've heard, I'll say my opinion is that he might be hard and tough, but a good CO, if you get me drift. His record, what I'm
at liberty to read, is outstanding"

Hugo frowned over to Edith, stopping his packing as he sat next to her. "He said that? Burton really said you didn't belong here?" He asked with concern as he took her hand.

She looked at him and smiled weakly. "What he said doesn't mean much to me. He's no longer my CO," she said and kissed his cheek. "Besides, I've pissed him off one time too many, I suspect. A miracle I haven't been thrown out of the 'Fleet yet"

"You're too good for that to happen." He assured, kissing her neck gently. "He's wrong you know."

She sighed. "No. He's bloody right, that's what he is is. All my COs end up saying I don't belong in Starfleet. I'm not the best Officer they have. Officers should follow orders. I do, of course, until they go against what I stand for...and then I bend them or go against them and end up in front of that known desk, being yelled at. And that I can't do much about either, for I usually end up yelling back, telling them my opinion..." she leant against him. "A curse be on the name Monaghan and the family's stubbornness. We've been like this ever since my great, great, great, great something, something stood against his Chief.That ended up in a beheading, by the way..."

"I know..." Hugo said with a smile, taking hold of the side of her face. "It was makes you special, Edie...the fact your concerns are with what's best for the patient, not just blindly doing what you're told, when you're told."

"Still, that wasn't enough to save Helgi," she said quietly and kissed him before standing up to continue packing, though her movements were slower now.

Hugo closed his eyes and looked down...he knew how much that still weighed on, but didn't know how to help...he'd never been much good at that kind of thing. Moving over he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "You can't save them all, Edie..." He said softly.

"I should have known it was that bad...PTSD is known to go there...recurring memories, violence...I should have known she could get suicidal, or even have such flashbacks," she turned and looked into his eyes. "She could have killed a 17 year old cadet...and she ended up killing herself. Maybe, if I hadn't gone to her, she'd still be alive"

"No." Hugo said firmly, holding the side of her face as he looked at her, meeting her eyes. "Something’s happen, and there's nothing anyone can do...if it's going to happen, it's *going* to happen. Believe me, love, I know." He kissed her softly.

She looked away with a small smile. "Never complain to a Marine, right?" she said lightly and looked at him. She touched his face. "Why did you leave the Corps? You were so damn good at it, being a Marine...an officer"

He watched her for a moment, considering how he should answer...he would never lie...not to her, but there were some things that were difficult to admit. "Why on earth would I want to stay there when I could have a family life with a beautiful, talented woman?" He finally replied with a flash of a grin, kissing just below her ear.

It made her close her eyes and take his hand. "Family life..." she repeated, a hint of irony in her voice. "You still want a child, huh?"

He pulled back and looked at her, nodding. ”Yes, Edie...and as much as you wish it would go away, I don't think it will." He said quietly.

She looked away, feeling a little ashamed. "I don't want a child...I don't want the crying and the responsibility. I don't want my freedom to be taken away. And it would be hell to get my figure back after the birth. And the birth!" she laughed almost bitterly. "I don't fit as a mum...the pain and all"

Hugo gave a slight sigh. "Well I can't do anything about the birth...but you know I would never expect you to give up your career for a child, I'd put my job on hold...give it up if needs be."

She stood up and looked at him. "You knew when you married me I didn't want a child...why can't you just accept it?" she asked but then felt guilty, she moved closer. "I'm sorry...that was mean"

He pulled away to sit on the bed at that, the words having stung. "I married you because I love *you*...not because I was after a child."

She moved behind him, placing her arms around his chest as she kissed his neck. "I know...I'm sorry..." she said and then chuckled. "Only you can make me say those words, Hugo. I'm sorry"

He gave a small smile, his hands resting on her waist. "I want a child, Edie...but I also know you don't. So that's the answer right there."

"Give me time, love..." she said and kissed his cheek. "Maybe...maybe one day I'll get used to the idea. It's just...well, my family isn't famous of the good mothers"

"Edith...it's okay...you don't have to make me feel better...I get it." He assured, kissing her with a smile to assure her he was okay.

She let her hands go to his hair. "I'd make a lousy mother...you'd make a grand father"

"You'd make a good mother." Hugo said with a smile, his head tilting slightly against her hand. "But don't worry...I don't expect you to have a child."

"Good," she said and kissed his neck again, leaning against his back. "Now let's pack...02:00 hours is coming up fast"

"You're worse than any officer I ever took orders from...." Hugo said with a mock frown before laughing as he stood up, going back to finishing off his clothes.

She got up and continued herself. "Well, what do you expect? I'm Scottish!" she defended herself.

"No excuse..." He shook his head with a smile. "You're a wife, that’s what you are..." He teased, bracing himself for the response he'd get from that.

"And a mistress," she said and laughed as she looked at him. "Be a good dog and get another dufflebag, pet!"

"Course..." He went and searched through the chaos of their things for another bag. "You know, love..." He passed the bag to her, "I hope Bhrode doesn't object to my being on the ship...I mean, a teacher...and I doubt he even remembers me."

"Who knows?" she looked at him and smiled warmly. "I bet he remembers you. I remembered you when you saved me, even if I was half passed out"

"Oh that was just my irresistible looks..." He joked with mock arrogance.

"Mmm..." she whispered and then moved over to kiss him. "I just love your looks...your handsome face, your smile...even that scar..." she kissed the scar that was under his eyebrow. "Irresistible"

Hugo gave a chuckle. "And I couldn't believe that it was *you*...I mean, the woman who I'd been the biggest fan of for years."

She laughed and shook her head. "It was not funny that instead of being asked 'Are you hurt?' I was asked: 'You don't happen to be Edith Monaghan?'" she kissed him again. "Saxon...I fell in love with you right there and then"

"I'd been in love with you for years." He replied with a grin, kissing her neck softly.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Well, to marry my only fan...what can I say? I'm so easy"

"*Only* fan?" He kissed along her jaw with a smile. "Oh please...you have so many it could make a guy jealous."

"I'm not a holostar, Hugo," she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I just did a few plays...And you only fell in love with me because I was only wearing underwear on-stage"

"That had nothing to do with it..." Hugo said defensively until he smiled against her neck. "It may have helped....." He added with a laugh, kissing her shoulder.

She laughed as well and looked at him. She kissed his hair before pulling away. "It's late...and we aren't finished packing yet"

Hugo looked about at the stuff they still had to go. He stood up and picked up their picture, looking at it before slipping it into a bag. "I always seem to be bloody packing..."

"You used to be a Marine..." she pointed out with chuckle. "Hurry up and wait, aye?"

"Aye." He agreed with a nod. "How did we ever get this much stuff?" He asked as he looked at it with an arched eyebrow.

"Wedding presents, love..." she answered as she packed away the last. "Things we never use but keep anyway...and clothes"

"Bloody wedding presents..." He muttered with a frown. "Why don't we just throw it all out?"

"It's impolite..." she said and sighed. She walked over to the painting on the wall, the one she had gotten from the bartender of the Babylon on her last birthday.

"How the hell will anyone know?" He asked with a shrug. Menecairiel: She looked at the painting and smiled. "Not everything here is bad...I like Vig's present..."

"I like it too, love..." He assured with a smile. "But we can't keep *everything*!"

She smiled and placed the painting on the bed. "Okay...everything but this painting can go. I love this painting"

Hugo grinned. "Deal." He did up his bag. "Well...my stuff's ready to go."

"Me clothes are ready...just going to get the locket from me mum and my make-up," she said and walked to the bathroom.

He watched her go and then looked around the room, letting a long breath out. Another place left behind already...when he'd left the Marines, he'd hoped that he wouldn't have to keep doing this over and over...he really should have known better.

After ten minutes she returned with a small bag, looking at him with a smile. "Well...want to take a drink at the bar before we go or...?"

"No...let's just get out of here." He replied with a small smile, picking up his main bag.

She smiled and took her own stuff. But she looked around with sadness. "We had a good life here..."

"Yes, we did." He said with a soft smile over to her. "And we have another awaiting."

"If Brhode lets me in," she said and walked to him, kissing him hard on the lips.

He kissed her back, his hand slipping up to her hair before pulling back to look at her with a grin. "'Course he will...just hope you don't intend to persuade him like that."

"I won't strip in front of him..." she said and winked.

"You'd better not, Scot..." He warned with an arched eyebrow, the grin remaining though.

She laughed and walked out. "Well, you'll never know, Saxon!"

"I will..." He called after her. "You just wait and see...I will..."

"Those Endearing Young Charms"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie, AFCO
Cmdr. Lysander Vander Puls-Hawksley, CFCO

Civilians' Quarters, Utopia Planetia

"Computer, time?" a sleepy voice inquired in the darkness.

No response.

"Computer -- time??" the voice repeated, a little more agitated this time.

Still nothing.

"Damn it . . . compu- . . . ."

"Will you -please- stop that?!" a rather groggy female voice interrupted.

It was then that Jeremy remembered he wasn't on a starship.

A little fidgeting in the bed, and then a light flicked on. Squinting at a small clock on the stand next to her, Jeremy's bed partner informed, "It's not even six-o'clock in the morning."

Jeremy turned his head to the woman and smiled. Her flaming red mane was tangled and her emerald green eyes looked a little bleary, but she was still beautiful. "Sorry to wake you like that," he apologized.

Pulling herself into a seated position and wrapping the bedsheet loosely around herself, she looked down at him, her eyes narrowed in mock annoyance.

"So -that's- how you wake a girl up in the morning?"

Jeremy just continued to lie on his back and smile up at her for a couple seconds, lightly tracing his finger across her arm.

"Sorry," he chuckled slightly, "I'm not used to actually having to look at a clock to tell the time," he apologized again.

"What's your hurry?" she asked softly, the sparkle that Jeremy recognized from last night rekindling in her eyes.

Jeremy rolled over and slid himself up, almost on top of her. "No hurry," he said playfully, as his lips briefly met hers. "I still have some time before I have to report to the Galaxy for duty," he said, kissing her gently again.

"I don't know . . ." Erin teased coyly, returning another soft kiss. "Maybe you should report early so I can get back to sleep . . . ." they kissed again ". . . you did wake me up rather early . . ."

"Hmph . . ." Jeremy chuckled through another kiss. "Let me make it up to you . . . ."

And then he reached across and clicked off the light . . . .

---------------------------------------

StarDock 2. Esplenade Seventeen, Deck 230. Hanger Observation Lounge
Omicron. About two hours later . . . .

Jeremy stood staring out a large viewport at the gleaming Galaxy. Like the other ships-of-the-line, she was an impressive sight, yet this particular ship was a little odd too. Refitted with all the latest in weaponry and propulsion, the old girl had more of a 'Helga the Valkyrie' appearance than the sleek and streamlined look of her youth.

This new Galaxy was a killer, for sure. Even the yawning aperature of whatever the hell they'd slung under her saucer looked far too big and ugly to be anything but a weapon. But the SIZE of the thing...

Glancing down at some of the ship's specs displayed on the PADD he held, Jeremy occasionally furrowed his brow and shook his head slightly. How could anything with -three- warp nacelles fly, let alone handle like the old GALAXY did in the simulators?

Everyone KNEW that the unstable warp fields could, and would tear a ship apart as they eddied around her hull. So how did THIS monster manange to. . .

"You shouldn't read Alpha Two security documents on an open Promenade. You never know who's walking past," came the annoying voice over his shoulder.

A voice he knew and hated.

There, clad in a dorky-looking leisure suit with far too many swoopy bits and zippers, lounged Commander Lysander Vander Puls-Hawksley. Looking like the survivor of a roving pack of clothing designers gone amok.

"I like the additions. Very ...sleek. Those cannons by the bridge look like antennea. " The smegger added, in that bored voice he affected.

That voice. Jeremy would have recognized it anywhere. It was like fingernails on a blackboard.

"What the hell are -you- doing here?!" Jeremy spat. He had only served with Lysander for a year on the USS City of St. Louis, but that was more than
enough time for Jeremy to grow to despise the arrogant jackass.

"I. . . " Lys began, only to be cut off.

"Oh, and thanks for the vote of confidence to Bhrode yesterday," Jeremy said venomously.

"Awwwwwwww... did widdle youggie-wuggie wan Unkie Lizzie to say NICE thingies wingsies to the big meanie old Captain-waptain for uuuuuu?" Lysander retorted, a sneer on his face.

Jeremy was about to ask if anyone had told Lysander lately what an ass he was, when he remembered the idiot was now a Commander. -Him-, a fucking Commander! They were both junior lieutenants when they served together on the City of St. Louis and seeing the pips on his uniform yesterday in Bhrode's office just drove the point home of how much Jeremy had screwed up his own career ambitions.

He just glared at the ass, obviously expending a lot of effort to hold his tongue.

Lys stopped polishing his fingernails on his tunic to continue.

"Go ahead, say what you want, Savoie. I'm off duty and out of uniform. As a matter of fact, I was en route to the Red Dwarf to say goodbye to some... former crew. Buy you a drink?" Lysander asked, his face unreadable.

~~Buy me a drink?~~ Jeremy thought. The fuck would probably make it water
or poison.

While Jeremy dithered, Lysander was smiling at passing women.

Of course, Lysander was able to appraise them from head to toe in long, lingering glances. For some odd reason, he got more than a few smiles and looks of appraisal in return, instead of he slaps and restraining orders Savoie felt he so richly deserved.. Far more than his fair share.

Jeremy just KNEW that if he'd looked at strange women like that, he'd get his face slapped. But Hawksley... that over- pampered, under-brained idiot got away with it.

Worse, he got encouraged by it. The stupid leer got bigger as a svelte blonde sashayed past, rolling her eyes and laughing at Lys' interest.

"Sorry, I'm on duty in ten minutes," Jeremy replied with no regret whatsoever.

"Really? Who told you that?" Lysander asked, eyes still on the blonde's afterburners.

"The Betazoid chick outside Bhrode's office. Told me to report this morn- . . to . . . ."

And then the light bulb went on in Jeremy's head . . . showing what a gullible idiot he was. The bogus report-for-duty order was probably her way of getting back at him for what he did during their first encounter outside Bhrode's office.

"Well, she's smegging wrong. Captain's orders. Helm... Flight Control.. whatever it is this week. We're on light duty. The ship's not going anywhere until she's officially launched. The bridge is off limits, and the Yard Crew is futtzing with the RCS interfaces and you'd just get in their way." Lysander replied, his eyes drifting from the blonde back to the monster ship, passing over Jeremy without a flicker of recognition.

It just pissed Jeremy off to no end, the way Lysander always seemed to talk -around- him.

"How about this... because I know you're DYING to get your hands on her. I tell you everything I know about her and how she handles, and in exchange,
you try and pretend you're a normal human being for an hour? Unless...of course... the idea of flying ANYTHING with three nacelles..... scares you." Lys smirked.

Unfortunately, the pompous windbag was right about one thing: Jeremy -was- dying to get his hands on the helm of that ship. But the thought of having to be civil and put up with Lizzie in exchange? He wasn't sure it was worth it.

"Three nacelles . . . four nacelles . . . fifty nacelles . . . it's all the same to me," he said nonchalantly, getting a little more in the agitator's face with each word.

"No really, it's okay. If I had as few flight hours logged as you do, I'd be scared to take something like GALAXY out of stardock myself. You can admit it. You're terrified you'll scratch the paint." Lys smirked.

"You know, you can kiss my ass," Jeremy began, his eyes narrowed but his composure intact. "I've got just as many flight hours logged as you and you know it. You could set a dozen eggs on top and I'll fly 'er through a supernova without losing one."

"Oh well.. it must be the third nacelle then. You're scared it'll go 'BOOM' on us? Terrified? Crying for Momma and all that rot?" Lys continued, walking away towards the turbolifts.

~Just like back on the City of St. Louis,~ Jeremy scowled as he watched the bastard walk away. Lysander was always shootin' off his mouth, throwing
down a gauntlet of some sort, questioning Jeremy's abilities or guts. If he had forgotten, Jeremy now remembered why he didn't like the arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

But although he knew he'd regret it, Jeremy's pride made sure he followed.

"The Agenda"
by
Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer

Heat.

Welcome, soothing, sustenance to one who hasn't endured it for so long.

Penetrating, heavy, consistent. The lifeblood for so many, death for the rest. It soaks the moisture from the body, dehydrating the organs, collapsing in on themselves for dependence and survival.

The process of efficient, methodical, and strict. The procedure never changes, never alters, remains consistent.

It was ideal. A utopia of life as it should be. One action follows another in logical, efficient sequence.

Kylar Curran opened his eyes. The iciness of the ovular sockets mirrored the sharp images of the irises contained within them. The brilliance of the Rihannsu sun bore down on him, and he revelled in it.

He lay in the desert, skin cracking as he lay naked in the human form he adopted so many years previous. He fought to purge the emotional layers that came with the form that he could no longer alter. He enjoyed the sun's desire to break him, and inwardly, he laughed at its feeble attempts.

Four years he spent on the Romulan homeworld, four years of solitude and grudging respect for the Romulan structural hierarchy.They maintained efficiency at an almost vicious fervor. Strict, harsh, and persecution against all those who oppose the Romulan way.

Kylar only found it weak of the Rihannsu in failing to utilize the Remansfor more advantageous natures. The Remans were emotionally weak creatures, but would make excellent foot soldiers in their superior physical physiques. Their features instilled fear in their enemies, and were quick to tear their opponents limb from limb with cold efficiency. This is where their emotions did not bar them. They were quick to anger, and were offended easily, but in the cold arena of combat, their focus was superior.

For all the smugness and calculating stares from the Romulans, they were blinded by the self-imposed superiority and failed to utilize this potential killer army they had. Instead, they gave into their fear and threw the Remans into the mines.

Kelva would easily conquer these supposed forces of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants with their lack of organization, and that is still a possible venture, but for now, the standing order was to spread their influence throughout the species of this part of the galaxy; to become the eventual Captains and Generals in time. Then would be the time to exert their power.

If only Kylar had been allowed to retain his neutralizer belt. Then these inferiors would suffer the deferences of the Kelvans.

But for now, he lay in the baking sun, reflecting on his agenda. He'd been informed the day previous of his transfer to the USS Galaxy 70637 as its Chief Liaison Officer. He was a bit perturbed at his leaving the Kelvan Embassy on Romulus. He hadn't completed his objectives here, and for all their faults, the comfort of the military hierarchy and methodical approaches in general maintained his balance and focus better than being around the more emotional species. The Terrans tended to set off his angermore than any other species. They were insufferable and chaotic in their thoughts and actions.

He'd then spent the day in the Kelvan archives studying the Executive officers and crew of the Galaxy as they'd been assigned.

The Command Crew mostly consisted of the aforementioned dredge known as Terrans, with a Alpha Centaurian hybrid. Kylar could only hope this hybrid shared some of the moralistic and saving graces of the rest of the Centaurian population.

He closed his eyes to the setting sun, the subtle changes in the air currents announcing the oncoming coolness of the twilight environment approaching. The temperature began to drop minutely, and he breathed in rhythm to his heartbeat, dropping his pulserate to put him in a meditative state.

Captain John Brhode was the reason he'd be sent, as the Ambassador General of the Federation Liaison Corps had informed him upon his transfer.

"Captain Brhode is an excellent officer, Kylar, but he needs guidance. His emotions tend to get the better of him, and he defeats the purpose of the Federation in its essence. As a Captain in Starfleet, he tends to skirt the fact that the Fleet falls under the Federation Council, and therefore he ignores the mandates we've set forth. He would rather view the Galaxy as a vessel of war rather than of exploration and defense of the Federation borders.

"He's a shoot first, ask questions later type of Captain, and his being given a heavily defensible ship could be the spark that lights the fire." Ambassador-General Natasha Mol was likely one of the few Terrans Kylar may row to tolerate. Her first and foremost priority was to the Liaison Corps. She was straight to the point with the reasons for his transfer, and for that, he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"This a prototype rank and command structure being looked at in the face of the somewhat 'heroic' attempt by some of Starfleet's finest to temper the God complexes some Starship Commanders are gaining. It isn't as rampant as it could be, but Brhode's last tour as the Galaxy Captain generated several hundred grievances to the Federation Council, as well as a mass exodus of command personnel.

"Kylar, I want you to temper his first impulses of the mentality he's been brought up to believe. The Galaxy is going to be the 'First Impression' to the variety of new cultures you encounter, and we don't want to start a war with anyone thinking Brhode is the epitomy of the Federation.

'Therefore you've been assigned as Chief Liaison Officer operating under the Federation Corps banner. You are not under Brhode's command, as he has a habit of transferring officers to rather remote posts for disobeying his whims of the moment. Keep close to him, make sure he follows regulations. Unfortunately, there are many factions within Starfleet and the Federation that support Captain Brhode, so be careful how and where you have your consultations with him. Be aware though, that you are also well protected here, and therefore have your own reign on the Galaxy.

"Good luck, Legate Curran. Keep in contact with us on a regular basis." Ambassador-General Mol ended the transmission.

The now Legate Kylar Curran opened his chapped lips and took a breath of the cooling air flowing over his shrivelled skin. He admired Captain Brhode's ideals and his strict adherence to structure, but he found it was for his own reasons and not as service to the state. He would have a challenge ahead of him, but he had the advantage of being Kelvan, and no species was superior to the Kelvan way.

He took the first shuttle out to a transfer vessel in orbit later that evening, and arrived at StarDock Two at Utopia Planetia several days later.

"Back2Back Action: The one with the Captain and the Scot"
aka "Anne needs to find better titles"

by:
Lt. Edith Monaghan, Assistant Chief Counsellor
and
Captain John Q. Brhode, Captain of the Galaxy, ruler of his own universe and a very scary man...

Counsellor Edith Monaghan made sure her clothes were neat, her hair okay and her make-up flawless before going to see Brhode. It wasn't so much the rumours and the gossip and the rumours again she had heard...it was his service record. Impressive, what she had found. But there wasn't much information about John Q. Brhode. And what did 'Q.' stand for? It was one of the larger myseries of the world. To hell with the Loch Ness monster, what the blasted hell does the 'Q.' in John Q. Brhode stand for?

Ignoring that trail of thought, she walked out of the turbolift and towards the yeoman. "Lieutenant Edith Monaghan to see Captain Brhode," she said slowly, so that the woman would understand. Bad idea, the eyes marked the woman as a Betazoid. Oh well, she could continue to think a conversation or something. She gave the woman a smile.

The Betazoid Yeoman took in the impeccable Counselor and smiled. She registered the Sciences/Medical Blue on Edith's collar and smiled wider.

"Are you a Physician also?" she asked.

"No. A counselor. The Captain?" Edith asked.

The Yeoman left off toying with a pair of perfect Terran roses in the vase on her desk and indicated the door.

"Pity. He's in the temporary office. Head right on in." She said with an easy grin.

The room was large but spare. A conference table stood to one side, almost groaning under the burden of ship's blueprints, models, Data PADDS and the other detrius that said 'Work in progress' The desk was burnished steel,and five chairs sat arrayed before it. Curioulsy, the visitor chairs were bolted to the bare deckplates.

Behind the desk sat John Q. Bhrode. His blocky form backlit against the vision of the ship in the Hanger Berth behind him.

"Pretty sight, isn't it Lieutenent?" he asked, in a much calmer voice than the blood crazed bellow she'd
expected.

Monaghan nodded with a small smile. "Yes, indeed it is, sir. A mighty fine view for any eye, if I may say it. A fine ship, yes indeed," she said as she looked out, her brown eyes shining even so slightly as she looked at the view.

"You may not. You're far too outspoken for your own good." Bhrode replied, turning from the view.

Edith met his eyes, which for her was mistake number two. "Well, sir, I-" she started.

"Zip it Counselor. Do your job, try to stay out of trouble, and this is most likely the limit of our interaction.You get lippy, get cute; You get in trouble or smart off to Commander Dallas, you and I are going to get real cozy. Right before I send you back to whatever misbegotten backwater you've been rotting in. We understand each other?"

Unconsciously, she straightened her back and averted her eyes from his face to stand in what looked like a Marine's attention. "Aye, sir," she said flatly, her warm accent gone completely. ~Oh, bloody hell,Monaghan. What have you gotten yourself into now? Trouble, I tell you. You and your big gob. Captain Burton is right, you don't belong in Starfleet, lass...you belong on stage quoting Shakespeare~

Bhrode let out a sigh.

"In Starfleet, we respond to questions with 'yes Sir'or 'no Sir' and to orders with 'Aye Aye Sir.' Try and keep on the same page of the script as the rest of us. By the way, I saw you in Henry VI years ago." Bhrode continued.

"Sir?" she looked at him, surprise crossing her features. "I'm surprised you remembered me, sir. It was sten years ago and I only. . ."

"Can it. I'm not here to discuss the stage, or the gawd-awful intrepration of some ham fisted director ten years ago. I'm telling you some cold hard facts. Fact: You are going down the toilet in the Fleet. There isn't a Commanding Officer who wants you, your last one practically offered me his firstborn child to get rid of you. Fact: you're dragging a perfectly good Marine down with you. Fact:this ship and I represent your last chance. You flub it here, it's back to the off-off-off -off main stage for you. You'll be the spearcarrier on some rustbucket in the Merchant Marine." Bhrode grated out.

Edith looked at him, anger surfacing. "With all due respect, sir,I have some facts for you," she said. "One,I'm good at what I do,on and off stage. I'm a bloody good counsellor and I used to be a useful actress as well. Two, I am not dragging anyone or anything with me down. Former Marine Lieutenant Hugo Grant quit the Corps on his own terms to start as a teacher. And yes, I married him and I will be married to him until the day I die," she said and met his eyes coldly.

"Sir. And to be frank, I do not care what you or HQ says about me as an officer. Because it doesn't matter. What matters is what my patients says about me as a counsellor, sir"

~Did I just sign my own death-warrant?~ she asked herself as she closed her mouth. ~If I did, I'm going down as a Monaghan. I'm not taking my words back because they are bloody true. He should not judge me. Not yet, anyway~

Bhrode gave her a thinlipped smile.

"Nothing in your record said you had balls. Fine. I have not, nor will I ever, judge you on what your previous commanders have said. You may be a loud mouthed, pushy dame. You may have balls like a brass monkey, and you may have stolen one of the best Marines I ever worked with. Tell Hugo that I haven't forgotten whose platoon pulled my ass off that planetoid when the Odyssy went down. On all those aspects, I'm willing to concede to you." Bhrode actually smiled again.

She looked at him for a moment, feeling slightly confused. Should she say something? Or should she not. "I'll tell him,
sir," she said, looking at him.

Then he frowned.

"But, Lieutenant, the one area I am NOT willing to concede to you on is the opinion you have that MY OPINION AND THAT OF ALL OTHER SUPERIOR OFFICERS IS WORTH PIP-POLISH!" Bhrode thundered. "If you sincerely think that you know more about people and the Fleet than myself and all the others who tell you things you don't want to hear, then by all means go back to a cushy little life, teaching far arsed civilians how to simper for the holocamera. Or, you can open your bloody thick ears for once, and realize that it's time for you to shit or get off the toilet. You can quit, and spend the rest of your life wondering if you did make a difference, or
you can shut your mouth and continue to work in the Fleet as a Counselor. Specifically as one of MY Counselors. So which is it Monaghan? I can't believe Hugo married a whiny little fuck of a quitter."

She moved closer, forgetting everything but her own personality. "Sir, I'm not a quitter. And if you're willing to stand up with my loud gob, sir, I'll stay on your staff as one of *your* Counsellors. If you're willing to take that chance, with my record and comments, then I'll do it. Because I'm not a quitter and because I respect you for not buttering me up or flushing me down with damn poetry," she looked into his eyes and pulled back, getting into a spine-ridgid attention. "Sir!"

Bhrode smiled again.

Then he stood.

"To be, or not to be, that is the question. Wheither 'tis nobler to weather the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or, by quitting this mortal coil, to end it all." he quoted.

"Now, get the hell out of my office, and don't get sent in here for a refresher course anytime soon." he snapped and sat back down to his paperwork.

She looked at him and smiled. "Actually, sir...if I may..." she said and gave him the warmest of smiles she had given him yet. "To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end..." she said, her voice
passionate because this was something she knew. It had been her life in the past and she had been dedicated to it. "Sir..." she pulled back slightly, a little surprised over her own act or her reaction to him quoting Shakespeare. She felt suddenly a wee bit shy but she didn't let it show.

Bhrode clapped. Then his face darkened.

"Didn't I tell you to get the hell out?" He asked in that icy calm voice that she just KNEW meant trouble.

She looked at him and gave him a small smile. "Yes, sir," shesaid and straightened before turning in a left-face and walking out of the office. She grinned to herself, deciding she liked Brhode. "And they say he's so bad?" she looked at the yeoman."I'm looking forward to serve with him...Must be Scottish blood in his veins," she flashed her a smile before walking to the turbolift.

"I'm looking forwards to the Russian in the Sickbay" the yeoman told her with a wink.

Personal log

John Q. Bhrode, Commanding USS Galaxy NCC-70637-A

Stardate 50307.13

+Begin.+

Screw these pipqueak brass.

I'm looking at some damned memo they sent me. Buried in all the crapola is the fact they're sending me something called a "Liasion Officer" from the "Liasion Corps."

Apparently, they think I need some stooge from some politically motivated garbage department to hold my hand. How they ever passed this dog through the Council is beyond me. I smell Guignon and his stooge Jurgen Hoth all over this one.

Officially? I can't do anything about it. Which irritates my delicate sensibilites so much, I wanna pop this guy's head like a C-ration fliptop. Unofficially? I told VonErnst and Hawksley to make sure the guy's office is way down on the Cargo Decks of the Stardrive and that the pair of them had better keep him out of my hair.

Worse... he's a Kelvan. Arrogant little newts. Never met one who wasn't looking for a punch in their mouth.

My official Captain's logs will continue to be 'by the book' and should make Hoth and the others happy. They keep peeking over my shoulder. With Jean Luc fart arsing around in ENTERPRISE-E, they seem to be all worried about Galaxy. Seem to think it's the 'wave of the future.' Only in these private logs, am I gonna say what I'm really thinking.

My XO's.

I'm still torn as to which of them will be my XO. I'm leaning towards Wonder Boy at the moment, Von Enrst's a little too cool with her 'acceptable losses' ratios for my liking. I suppose Helm can ruin itself for the while, if I move him. Maybe I should let the two of them duke it out? That'd be interesting to watch.

I also have been informed that Commander Karyn Dallas has re-activated her commission. Let's see if Admiral Casey has the pull to get Dallas on my ship. If they still insist that we have to carry headshrinkers, I want one with balls.

Crew meetings are continuing as scheduled. I think I've rather outdone myslef with this mix. Not too many head cases. Although the Engineers continue to be a thorn in my side. What is it about this ship, that the Engineers are always a problem? Only on Galaxy. And Counselors. That Edith, telling ME to MY face Imisquoted Shakespeare. Pretty ballsy for a dame who mangled Henry IV to death

I was a bit taken aback By Commander MacAllen bringing her baby to her meeting. The kid's crippled. It's one thing for the Prices and Dallas'... they know risks and are old enough to deal with consequences. But a baby? Makes me want to kick someone's ass. I suppose I'll have to help the kid. Right after I chew her Mom a new asshole for thinking my office is a playground.

We're set for commissioning and launch on August 1. The new weapons systems are greenlighting in the Yard tests. I can't wait to get her the hell out of this crib and see what they do for real. This Phaser Pulse Cannon can leave a BIG old bootprint on someone's ship. Although it's creator is tempting me to shove him out the nearest airlock. I like the boot metaphor. I have a big new ass kicking boot now.

And I have a list of whose ships need to get kicked by it.

Some Marine NCO is waiting outside, and I have to scream at someone that Security beamed aboard before their evaluation meeting. Geluf. An Engineer. [hrumph]

Bhrode off.

40