"Clash of the Titans.....er...Doctors."

Lt. jg Dr. Klaus Fienberg
Lt. Cmdr. Dr. Vladimir Malgin

Klaus' Quarters, Deck 7

"Casual Intervention"

by
Legate Kylar Curran
Chief Federation Liaison Officer

Lieutenant Cassius Henderson
Chief Tactical Officer

The Orions rained a myriad of coloured fists down on the Kelvan, blow after blow, as they rolled throughout the diplomacy offices. Tables flipped, chairs were pushed aside as they three strove for supremacy over the other.

Kylar was pinned under the strong arms of the dumb-looking green-skinned brute, his arms pinned by the trunk legs of the alien as a couch was trashed on its side.

They both breathed heavily as the sly dog grinned down on him, his breath rancid as it mixed with the odiferous sweat of the pirate.

"Take him out, Rafal! Let's be done with him and take his goods. We could get a pretty penny for this, even if it is chipped a bit..." The smaller of the two handled a Tyrellian sculpture, shaped out of a sullen strain of ceramic, dyed mauve to emphasize its curves. An ear had been shattered in the scuffle.

Rafal's grin grew wider, then raised a great, meaty fist that would be the Kelvan's last vision before darkness engulfed him.

"Only a dishonorable and fearful people would not stand one-on-one with their opponent. Maybe that's why you skulk around the galaxy, waiting for anyone who wouldn't pose a challenge to you to cross your path. You'd be embarrassed by anything else." He tongued a corner of his mouth where blood had pooled, and gathered a ball of spit.

"Haha! You are a defiant one, aren't you? Beaten, and still fighting. So be it." He lifted a huge leg and released one of the Kelvan's arms.

"What are you doing, you idiot!" The little one rushed to their side, and knelt to the floor to lock down Kylar's almost free hand, still grasping the idol. "He's trying to trick you! We're here for profit, not pride!"

"Damn you both." The Liaison Officer let loose a barrage of spittle that dripped off both their chins.

"ARRRGGHHH!!!!" The hulking green giant wiped the saliva off his eyes and brought his fist to bear.... only to drift lazily away. His eyes glazed as over, as the purple Orion's also did. The lighter shade of the idol matched rather nicely to the smuggler's own skin.

"May I ask why you are fighting with each other?" A feminine voice flowed from the direction of the bulkhead behind them. The Orions lifted their eyes to find the source. The features contrasted darkly against the light of the corridor behind her. Kylar felt a strange sensation overcome him, something pleasant.

The purple Orion screamed and dropped his companion idol, shattering it. Rafal jumped off the Kelvan, coming to his senses.

"We're not fighting... we're.... uhhh... just leaving!" The two Orions rushed off, shoving aside the fembot standing in the doorway.

"But wait....? The bot turned on her heel and followed the two. "I need you..." Her voice faded away as did the patter of the Orions feet racing away.

Kylar sat up, unsure what to make of what just happened.

The noise of phaser fire from outside in the corridor floated into the room, followed by a few confused shouts. A moment later, a middle-height young man with a phaser rifle balanced under one arm stepped into the liaison's quarters. Slapping a new energy pack into the weapon, the ship's Chief Tactical Officer turned to Curran.

"I don't think you'll be having too many more problems with those two. Corgan's men should be here to pick them up soon." Cassius Henderson said, "Are you all right, I picked up their lifesigns on bio-scan, but I didn't think that you'd be here during all this...."

Then he noticed the fembot. "And what have we here. A stowaway?" he said, sounding more amused than irritated, as he usually would have.

"Leave her. She belongs to the Orions, judging by their response." He picked himself up off the floor and rubbed his wrist where the little runt had been leaning on. It ached. He surveyed the room. It was a disaster. At least his offices had hardly been touched save for a few stolen items probably in the pouches of the smaller pirate. The unconscious form of the first Orion, shot by Kylar upon his first entry in the sanctum began to stir.

"Corgan might want to take this one in as well." He gazed back at the human. He didn't know him, but his confidence deemed familiarty and authority. He noticed the Lieutenant rank pips on his collar, and the shade of red. Likely a tactical officer, with the way he was holding the rifle.

"To what do I owe this... pleasure?" Hateful word. He flexed his fists, felt pain surge through his left wrist. Felt like ligament damage, but liveable. It tempered his hatred of the human race and their damned misdirected honor.

"Just carrying out my duties. Picked up Orion biosigns, and Lieutenant Commander Corgan wasn't in the area, so I came down to take care of it. Cassius Henderson," he introduced himself, extending a hand to the formerly downed Kelvan. "Did you say that she belonged to them?"

This was the one the Ambassador General had mentioned. Was this coincidence? Nothing ever happened without reason, he'd learned once long ago. Perhaps it was time spent on Romulus amongst a people born of methods.

He reluctantly shook the hand of his would-be ally in the struggles of the Federation against its own.

"Kylar Curran, and yes, I believe it belonged to them. No Starfleet officer would stand there and stare, as can be confirmed by your own response. I'd have shot them myself if it were."

"I can see that," Cassius replied as the last Orion stirred. Casual, almost without aiming, he allowed his rifle barrel to swing down to cover the alien. A burst of blue light later, and he'd stunned it again. "I thought that Federation law barred slavery, even in Orion space. A recent development, but still..."

In truth, he had come down in the hopes of running into Legate Curran. Not that he trusted the Kelvan man, or his new assistant chief, any more than he had the night that Fleet Admiral deMercereau had commed him regarding them. Rather, he knew that sooner or later, he would need to meet this man, and establish some relations with him, be it for better or for worse.

"So, until I return"

Lt. Commander Adrian An'quinsos
Counselor

With An unauthorized appearance by Commander Karyn Dallas

*** Counseling Department ***

Adrian walked through the doors of the Department with a curious look. He hadnt seen hide or hair of the Chief Counselor for the past two days, and was getting a little worried. On another note, Starfleet sent in two young officers, Ensigns Bella Daniels and Andrew Covington, fresh out of the academy, and eager begin as soon as they set aboard the ship.

Please tell me I have a message or something He mumbled, entering his office to find his computer beeping in response. Okay, apparently, Im being watched. He chuckled.

He gave activated the it, and the screen came to life and showed a figure that Adrian had to do a double take to recognize. She was sitting down wrapped in a blanket? Right next to her, and slightly out of focus were a box of Kleenex. A volley of sneezes and sniffles proceeded, before Adrian spoke.

You see there, He spoke as a friend. I told you what those shellfish from Pacifica would do to you! But did you listen?

I suppose youd like to be demoted to E E Echoooooooooooooo! She wiped her nose and looked at him through stuffy eyes. Ive been quarantined for the time being, until this virus decides to have the good graces and leave.

Im very sorry to hear that, I suppose you want me to hold down the fort as it were.

Exactly, She stated shortly before sneezing. We also have a diplomatic envoy on its way to the Galaxy. Cooperate with them as best as you can. Im sure you can handle that.

No problem.

You may also need to work double shifts while Im away. So, until Im well, youre in charge, She smiled. Dont get used to that power now, I want my seat back and warmed when Im better!

Ill have it well warmed for your return back to the office. And dont get worse on me, or I might grow to love this newfound power of mine. After your feeling better, is it possible that I could talk with you about the position of Assistant Chief Counselor?

Sure, but after Im well. Until then, have fun Adrian, Dallas out.

Get well soon!

Adrian sat back in his chair as a slightly dismal expression settled upon his face. Great, a diplomatic envoy. Maybe I can stay in the shadows enough so Bhrode doesnt ride my case about anything that sours oh wait a sec, Im asking for a miracle!"

"Intermingling"

Lieutenant Cassius Henderson, Chief Tactical Officer
Master Mate Lysandra Stuart, Cryptographers Mate

-Chief Tactical Officer's Officer-

Cassius was, truthfully, asleep. His friend, Casey, had tucked a blanket around him over an hour previously. She had then gone back to work. After the Orion assault, his discussion with Curran and his communique from Rear Admiral Whitman, he'd been utterly exhausted, not even awake enough to do more than drop into his office chair.

An officer wearing the red uniform that denoted command, helm, tactical, or intelligence walked over and chimed on the door twice. Casey Black was about to intercept her and tell him to come back later when Henderson roused himself from his slumber, noticed the alarmed looking NCO, and ushered her in, waving off Lieutenant Black.

"Chief Stuart, what can I do for you today?" Henderson said, remembering the young woman as one of the ones that had considered transfer to tactical when he'd arrived. Ultimately, Stuart had remained a cryptographer, but all the same, here she was, in Cass' office.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. I worked in Intelligence for your predecessor, Lieutenant Commander Black, and he said, when he left Intelligence, that any of us would always be welcome in Tactical." Stuart began, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

"Oh, so you want to transfer? That¡¯s great, I¡¯ll just..." Cass said, excitedly jumping to his own conclusions, before Stuart cut him off, making him realize how serious the situation really was.

"Sir." Stuart said firmly, bringing Cass firmly back to reality, "No, I like my job over in Intelligence. I just... You used to work for SFI, right?" Stuart wiped some sweat from her brow. She looked more than a little nervous.

This was going to take some time, Cass decided. "Why don¡¯t you sit down, Chief." He said, standing and walking over to the replicator. "I used to work for SFI, for Commodore Bronwyn specifically, like Donovan Black did."

"So you know what intelligence is like, right?" Stuart asked, obviously building up to something. She nodded when Cassius indicated the replicator. "Coffee, black."

Finishing at the replicator, Cassius brought the coffee over to the surprised MM. He chose a nice tea for himself, and then headed over to his desk again. Sipping pensively, he answered the question. "Yes, I know what Intelligence is all about."

"How about ethics, Lieutenant?" Stuart asked trying to not be too forward and knowing she hadn¡¯t succeeded.

"Ethics, Chief? That's why I'm no longer with SFI." Cass said, leaning back and continuing to sip quietly. "What are getting at, anyway, Lysandra?"

"It¡¯s like this, Lieutenant. Major Bolivar and I were talking. He's the Chief Intel, you know. The Nietzchen." Stuart said, starting to spill the whole thing.

"Yes. I've haven't had the pleasure to meet the Major, but go on."

"We were talking this morning, and... He really scared me, Lieutenant. He was talking about disassembling one of the androids, to see what's causing all the men on this ship to go crazy," she said, moving around in her seat. "At first I thought he was kidding, what with the android rights laws, but then he actually did it. So I slipped away."

Cass thought for a moment, considering his options. Finally he decided. "All right, Lysandra. Why don't you go talk to the counselors, since they can make it so your Chief can't discipline you for leaving work early. Tell them that I sent you, and I thought you seemed distraught, which I do. I will see if I can do anything about this."

"Thank you, sir," the emotional young NCO said, then got up to leave.

"Take care, Stuart," he said to her as she left. Then he shook his head and began to type up a message to Captain Bhrode, which he co-copied to Commander Hawksley, advising them of the situation and informing them that unless instructed otherwise, he was going to investigate further.

Then he told his assistant, Rima, to take over for a while and headed for the Intelligence offices, hoping to confront the beast of a problem in it's lair.

"Breaking some eggs."

Bvt Maj Saladin Bolivar
Chief of intelligence NALDC Liason

The sounds of Wagner drifted through the air. The android was in parts and a chemist had begun anaylizing the pheremonic discharge.

One of his padds contained the downloaded programming of the android. It was a simple creature, not a high mental status. 7 basic emotions, 4 of them sexual. Programming was simple enough, no ethical subroutines, no concience, instead an unwavering devotion to one man, Harcourt Fenton Mudd.

Picking up the tea he sipped it from a white china cup with a saucer. He was aware some of the crew had problems with his dissasembly of an android to figure out what it's purpose was with the Orions and this ship.

Sometimes it was necessary to break some eggs to make the omlette.

"Fallen Angels"

Then Lt. Cmdr. Erik Steiner
Lt. jg Dr. Klaus Fienberg and assorted characters from the locations.

Flashback: 4 years ago

Location: San Francisco Soundtrack: Rob Zombie - Superbeast (Breen Bombing)

Erik was, surprisingly enough because of the war, between ship assigments.

Actually, he sorta did have an assignment. He was a warp system engineer at Starfleet. He was off duty, wearing civilian clothes. He was walking his mother down a path near the Golden Gate bridge.

The old german woman hobble along the sidewalk with her son. "My son, when do you have to leave?"

"I do not know Mutter. I do not want to leave."

"Many have died. I do not want you to be amoung them."

"I will not. I will not leave without a son." He hugged his mother dearly. This was not the parasite we all know. War is something that changes all men.

They were nearing the bridge and it was about time to go back home.

The house was acrossed the street. He walked his mother up into the house and began to walk in the direction of Starfleet Command.

(Start Superbeast)

Almost like a psychic, Erik sensed danger. He was suddenly surrounded by explosions. His walk became a run.

Secondary explosions began going off. Suddenly, a massive explosion went off behind him, sending him careening into the pavement. He was knocked unconscious as the Breen blew the hell out of San Fran. He awoke a couple minutes later. The attack on Starfleet Command itself had begun. He glanced over at the bridge. He had one thought in his head now. Mother. He booked it to his mother's house. It was in ruin. He rifled through the wreckage yelling "Mutter! Mutter!". When he finally found her, it was already too late.

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

Erik Awoke screaming "Mutter! Mutter!" Once he realized where he was he looked around. The 3 androids were still there. "I need a drink ladys."

All 3 said the same thing but somewhat out of unison. "You can't resist us Mr. Steiner."

Erik Glared at them."When a man needs a drink, He needs a drink." He needed to drink away his pain, and his hatred for the Breen.

____________________________________________

Time: 5 years ago
Location: Deep Space 9

The Battle outside in space continued to rage at the boarding forces moved through, slowly retaking the station. Klaus was playing a supporting medical role aboard the station with a group of Security officers and Marines.

"We lost contact with a Fire Team, Command. Orders?"

"Find them, go to their last position."

The Group moved through the halls, taking out any resistance. They made it to the promenade. Apparently there was an ambush there. 3 Marines and a doctor were all that was left. One of the marines was injured and the Doctor was treating him.

Klaus immediatly recognized him. Gunther Engleman. Here he was, when he was the man he once was. The kind, determined doctor that was the drummer for their old academy band.

Gunther closed the eyes of the marine, took his rifle, and stood up screaming his head off firing randomly at the enemy. Klaus' fire team moved in to support them, but they couldn't make it to Gunther's position. Suddenly, several polaron shots hit Gunther. For Klaus it went into slow motion. As Engleman went down, several more shots hit him, including a cardassian phaser beam.

The Fireteam began to pull back. Klaus watched his friend die. The last words were.."Klaus....don't leave me...." He fell limp.

The fireteam pulled back, then charged again with a second team of reinforcements. Engleman's body was gone.

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

Klaus awoke in a cold sweat. He showered and staggered out of his quarters. He began to wander. He was hoping to run into someone he could confide in.

"Scent of a Woman"

Primary Cast:
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

Secondary Cast:
Armory Supervisor Chief Mate
Holly Davidson Marine Armorer
Corporal Darren Stark

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 38 Main Armory

"You sent it *where?*"

"Lieutenant Krieghoff's quarters, Deck Seven."

"Krieghoff's.? Oh man, that was evil, Davidson!"

"Shut up, Stark."

"Come on, Davidson, you just."

"I said shut up, Stark. He deserves worse."

"But."

"One more word, and I tell everyone that it was *your* idea, Stark. If he doesn't kill you, then Gunny Goldstein will."

"Ummmm. Shutting up, now."

"Who says Marine's can't learn?"

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

Wincing as the muscles in his back protested, Victor dropped the remains of his uniform into the replicators and cycled it away. ~ Okay, that was not good. I must've actually done some damage when I took that hit that knocked me back into the counter at Curot's. He would have the only reinforced glass display cases on the Promenade - who'd have thought that a Ferengi would actually pay for something like that? Or that they grew Orions that big? ~

Victor took a few experimental steps then stopped as the pain spreading out from his back stabbed at him like a knife. ~ This isn't going to work. Feels like I pulled a couple of muscles, maybe tore one when I hit. I just haven't noticed it until now. Adrenaline's a wonderful thing, but I can't stay hopped up on it all the time. ~

Carefully moving to a chair, he lowered himself into it, and eased back, the frown leaving his face as the strain on his back lessened. ~ No, not torn, it doesn't hurt as much when I'm not moving around. Must just be bruised then, which means I can avoid a trip to Malgin's House of Pain and deal with it myself. ~ He leaned back further, taking more of the strain off his back for a moment.

~I still have those painkillers Malgin prescribed after that fight with the Klingons. No, those're too strong for this. I'd be cutting them into pieces so small that I couldn't see them in order to get a dosage small enough. I hate the way they make me feel, anyway. ~ He frowned, thinking. ~ Are there any of the ones I got from the Klingon doc down on lanJep after that fight with the Nausicans left? The Klingons don't go in for total pain suppression, so those weren't so bad. Yeah, I think there are. They'd be.~ he tracked his eyes across the room to his desk. ~ Over there. ~

With a grimace, he levered himself up and to his feet, gritting his teeth as his back protested. ~ You've been hurt worse than this and handled it, quit being such a baby and just walk like a man., ~ he chastised himself, forcing his feet to move at a normal pace as the stabs of pain in his back echoed every movement.

Reaching the desk, he lowered himself into the chair there, blinking as his back relaxed. ~ These things had better take the edge off of this, or everyone and their cousin is going to know that I'm messed up and think maybe they shouldn't be scared of me anymore. Commander Corgan will have an aneurysm if crewmen start turning up in Sickbay after pushing me, and he's got enough stress right now. ~

Victor thumbed the security lock on the drawer and started to sort through the contents of the drawer - a collection of prescription medications from previous injuries, several sealed emergency aid packets that dated back to the War and would likely be good through the next one, and a set of broad spectrum antiviral and antibiotic disposable injectors from a runabout's emergency kit. ~ I really should have grabbed the rest of the kit before we fired that runabout off at the Defiant, but that would have meant explaining why I wanted them to the Gunny and Grey, and that would've taken too much time. ~

With a critical eye he examined the medication, setting one set aside when it proved to have expired. ~ Dr. Bashir did warn me not to use this stuff past the date. He knew I hoarded it in case of emergency later even if he never said anything, it was the only explanation for the size of the prescriptions he doled out to me when I was at DS9. ~

Victor sighed, setting the Klingon prescription next to the expired one on the desktop and closing the drawer back up. ~ I do miss it there. Not the disaster with Rissa, or the looks I got from the regulars in Quark's when I came through on patrol, but the stability. Everything came to you there, not the other way around. Now if the Galaxy would just. Oh stop it. There's no way that the ship's going to become a space station just because you're wishing it would. This is home now - more of one than you've had since you went to the Academy. There'll be plenty of time for things to come to you after you retire. if you live that long. ~

Shaking out the Klingon painkillers, Victor sorted one out and returned the rest to the container, swallowing the capsule dry. ~ Yuck. And it still tastes better than some Klingon food this way. ~ Getting back to his feet, he paused at the replicators to recycle the expired prescription, and then moved to the connector bathroom; grateful again that he wasn't sharing it with anyone. ~ Who'd want to? ~

He climbed into the shower and set the water temperature controls to start warm and slowly work their way up to just-shy of scalding, and leaned into the opposite wall to let the drumming spray start to massage his back. While he waited for the drugs to start working, he let his thoughts wander. ~ Wonder how the Gunny and her people did? Corgan would have made an announcement if we'd lost anyone, or if someone had gotten seriously hurt.. ~

****

The buzz of his cabin's door, signaling someone wanted entry woke Victor, and he almost slipped and fell on the slick floor of the shower. ~ Oh that's good. When was the last time I fell asleep standing up? ~ Waving the water off with a silent thanks that the ship's systems hadn't had so much of a drain that they'd been unable to handle the constant demand for hot water and switched it over to cold, Victor carefully stepped out into the steamy bathroom. ~ How long was I in there? This place looks like a sauna. ~

The door buzzed again as he grabbed a towel and started to dry off, only realizing that his back wasn't bothering him after he started to dry one foot. ~ Good, the painkillers must have kicked in. ~ Sticking his head out into the cabin, he took in a lungful of the much cooler air there which finished waking him up. "Who is it?"

There was no answer except for the buzzer as it sounded again.

"Who is it?" he repeated, leaning against the doorframe as the steam from the bathroom escaped into his quarters, toweling off. "Just a minute, please."

The buzzer sounded again as he hopped over to the bed and started pulling on some pants, frowning. "Computer, identify individual outside cabin door."

=^= Individual outside door is not Starfleet Personnel. =^=

~ At least it's not new way to annoy me one of the crew dreamed up. ~ Victor got the pants on and fastened and started for the door. ~ But who the hell is it?~

The door was buzzing again as he reached it and keyed it open. "Yes?" he said as the door opened, not waiting to see who it was.

The shapely brunette standing outside the door didn't answer, merely stood there, looking at him.

"Can I help you?" Victor repeated. ~ Is she lost? She's not part of the crew I recognize. and she doesn't seem to be afraid of me.. ~

The woman smiled.

~ Okay, she's not deaf, anyway. ~ "Can I help you?" he repeated.

She smiled again and pointed inside the room.

"You want to come in?" Victor frowned, something tickling the back of his mind but refusing to move out and be recognized. "Is there something wrong?"

The woman shook her head slowly and pointed inside his room again.

~ Something's not right here. ~ Victor looked out into the hall, but saw no one else. "What's your name?" he tried again. "Is something wrong?"

"The woman smiled and shook her head slowly once more, then stepped closer to the door, moving into Victor's space.

~ Okay, this is moving past weird. ~ Victor looked at her for a moment, the tickle still in the back of his mind, and suppressed a frown. ~ I don't know what it is, but something's not. Mmmm, she smells good. ~ He blinked. ~ Come on, get a grip on yourself. Something's wrong here - either with her, or the situation - and thinking about how nice she smells isn't going to fix things. ~

Frowning, he moved aside and let the woman move past him, checking the hallway one more time before turning to see what she was doing and letting the door close behind him. One of the crew's dependent, maybe? No, she's got to be twenty or so, she'd be doing something if she were aboard the ship. and I don't recall any flags for family members with a disorder that would make them this detached. So who the hell is she? ~

He watched as the woman moved around his quarters, stopping to look at the few pictures he had on the walls, and examined the plants that filled the room. "Miss? Can I help you?" He stepped back into the cabin from the doorway. "Miss?"

The woman looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled again, this time with an unmistakable invitation.

"Ummm." ~Okay, *that* was not a 'Hello' smile. What the hell is going on here? ~ "Miss," he repeated, "can I help you? Is something wrong?" ~ Why are all the flowers suddenly smell so strong in here? And is it really this hot? ~

He looked at the bathroom door to make sure it had closed. ~ No, that's not it. So what's. ~ He took another step as the woman turned, her smile open and held out a hand to him. ~ No, it isn't the room, ~ he realized suddenly, ~ it's me. What the hell? She's just walked into the room and I want to. ~

The woman took a step closer, fingertips touching his bare chest between the trailing ends of the towel he'd draped around his neck, and he jerked, as if shocked.

~ God, I want to. no, this isn't.~ He started to back up a step, but the woman kept pace, her fingers making a circle on his damp skin. ~ What's happening? Why am I.? Something's not right, I shouldn't.. ~

The woman moved in closer, her hand sliding up his chest as she reached for him with her other hand, fingers running up his back.

"Miss, I don't think." Victor's mouth was suddenly dry as the woman pressed against him. "Miss.." ~ What's happening to me? I can't think, can't concentrate, I just want to. ~

She kissed him, pulling his head down and refusing to let him go when he tried to draw back.

"Mmmpphh.." Victor finally broke free, pulse pounding in his spinning head, appalled at both the difficulty he'd had doing so and the reluctance he felt at having accomplished it. He backed up a step, the woman winding up with the towel he'd had draped around his neck in one hand, and the other outstretched toward him.

Gasping, Victor backed up again as the woman moved to follow him. ~ What the hell? She was stronger than a Klingon? And why do I still.? ~

The woman smiled, something more than mere invitation in the expression, and kept advancing.

Victor circled around a chair, trying to force himself to think. ~ How can she be that strong? What's. She doesn't move right.. ~ He watched her approach, focusing on that thought to keep from thinking about how much he wanted her to kiss him again. ~ She doesn't walk right. It's close, very close. ~ He stopped and shifted position, pushing aside the thoughts that the movement of her hips brought to him. ~ She's not real. she's a machine. An android - like Commander data on the Enterprise, but. ~

He decided that he didn't need to explore the ways she was different from Data and fought off the images that started to fill his thoughts. "Why are you doing this?" he essayed, finding it harder to keep circling the chair than he wanted it to be, part of him trying to delay until she caught him.

The woman didn't answer, but her smile grew more open with her intent.

~ She's doing something to me, I can't think - not about anything but. No, dammit! She's a machine. I am not doing this. I made that decision years ago. No holograms. No machines. I'll wait until the One. ~

Victor stumbled, almost fell, and had to scramble away as the android reached for him again. ~ Help, I need help. I can't keep away from her for long, not when I want to. No. ~

He spun around his desk, hand reaching for his phaser, then stopped. ~ I can 't shoot it, I don't know what will happen. For all I know, the damned thing will explode. I need someone to. the Gunny? No, she'd just shoot it too, and I'd never hear. Grey. She's an engineer; she can figure how to turn this thing off. ~

Keeping the desk between him and the android, Victor typed out a fast message and sent it on the desk's interface, trying to ignore the way the android seemed to be amused by his attempts to escape. ~ Don't take long, Grey - I'm not doing well here.. ~

~Under the Spell of a Woman~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin

Cutter sighed as he walked down the corridor back to his quarters. He had apparently run over his scheduled time in the holodeck, according to Lieutenant MacAllen who had walked in on him half naked and kicked him out before he was able to enjoy the 'surprise' in Crom's holo-program. As a result, he was left ... wanting.

Perhaps having still been high on hormones made the approaching woman that much more attractive. Perhaps it was something else, but whatever it was, this woman was amazing! She was tall and thin and blonde; her hair came down to her shoulders. She wore a very short white dress with red patterns, it couldn't have shorter without being obscene, by human standards. It hid none of her long, smooth, gorgeous legs. On her feet were a pair of white leather boots that rose up to her knees. Cutter had to approach her.

"Tola," he said, smiling a seductive smile, "How are you today?"

The woman stopped and turned towards Cutter, "I am functioning within normal parameters."

"Lene," Cutter said, "do you live on the Galaxy, I've never seen you before."

"False. I accompany the one designated Harcourt Fenton Mudd."

"Ka! You're one of his androids! Ka, you're the most attractive android I've ever seen."

"I was designed to pleasure others," she said, she sounded like a Vulcan. What is it about Vulcan females that makes them so attractive? The android tipped her head to the side and examined the winged man before her. "My designation is Stella, do you desire my services?"

Cutter's smile shifted to one of triumph. Does he desire her services?! "Sem! Yes, I would like that very much. My name is Cutter."

A change in Stella's stature took place after Cutter's affirmation. She relaxed, her shoulders dropped and her hips pushed out slightly to one side. All vulcan-ness was lost immediately, and she smiled for the first time, an effervescent, sexy, fun smile, and Cutter's attraction increased dramatically. "What do you want to do, Cutter?" she asked.

"Well, you want to go to a lounge, grab something to eat?"

She giggled, "I'm an android, silly. I don't eat food. I can only process certain fluids," she said, stepping closer to Cutter.

He laughed. "Ohn, right, um ..." he spit out. She had placed her hands on his chest, and her gentle touch was driving him wild. "Ih, how about ... ka," he sighed again when he noticed her delicious scent, "how about the arboretum. Its generally pretty empty at this time of day."

"That sounds great," she said and followed Cutter as he led her down the corridor to the turbolift.

They entered, together with a brown haired human. He was shorter than Cutter, but not bad looking. He couldn't help but notice Stella in the small confined elevator. He smiled at her, and she smiled back; Cutter glared. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman with such gorgeous eyes with such a remarkable perfume," the human said, inching closer, "My name is John."

"Hello John, my name is Stella," she smiled.

"Sem, tola John," Cutter spit out the words, dripping with animosity. But the human did not seem to notice. He was hypnotized by Stella's beauty.

"Stella," John said, letting the name roll of his tongue and smiled at the sound of it. "What are you doing right now?"

"She's going to the arboretum -- with me," Cutter asserted, wrapping his arm around the android's waste and pulling her closer.

"Yes, we are going to have fun," Stella added, still smiling at John.

John looked up at Cutter, for the first time since they entered the turbolift. He laughed slightly, expressing his belief that this was a ridiculous suggestion in one short sound. "Hey, Stella, how about you and I ditch the bird boy here and go back to my quarters?"

"Excuse me, ni'thekh, what the ist do you think you're doing?" Cutter asked, stepping forward and pushing John against the wall of the turbolift. He landed against the wall with a thud.

"Hey, fucker! Get your damn alien hands off me! She's clearly lost interest in you, she wants a real man," he sneered and pushed Cutter off. "Why don't you go find a pigeon to mate with?"

John sneered again, obviously proud of his insult. Stella stood behind them against the opposite wall, still smiling dumbly, watching the two men argue over her. But the argument ended rather abruptly, when Cutter unleashed his fists and punched John in the face. First his right hand, then his left, then his right once more. Cutter would wipe that stupid grin off his smug little face.

Cutter stepped back after the third punch and John fell to the floor, unconscious with blood streaming from his mouth. He turned back towards Stella, his android, who still sat there with an empty smile on her face. Ka, she was fantastic looking, he noticed again as the turbolift doors opened. Cutter stepped towards her and wrapped his arm around the back of her waist, inhaling that enticing scent of hers, and led her out of the lift. "The arboretum is this way, my love."

"Is there a pond there? Do you want to go skinny dipping?" she asked. A tall woman in a blue Starfleet uniform passed in the other direction, towards the turbolift. She gave the couple a nasty stare when she heard the suggestion.

"Do I want to -- ohn, ka!" Who needs a hologram, when you have this?

They continued walking down the corridor, Cutter entranced and Stella following along. They didn't even notice the scream of the woman who passed them when she reached the turbolift and found John's crumpled up in the corner.

Chad Vicenik
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astrophysics
USS Galaxy

"Beta Shift Blues"

Lt. JG Ahdjiia D'Tinya, Security

Times like this, I wish I were somewhere else, mused the solemn security officer as she passed her shift with her prayerweb. The humans called it a Cat's Cradle, but Ahdjiia never understood that one. Humans were like that, odd ones, but they did have their moments.

Her slender fingers adjusted one of the braided silken strands as she sighed. Usually she found peace while crafting, but not now. If it was her call, they'd just beam those annoying fembots and Harry Mudd out into deep space and be done with it.

As it stood, the brig was filling more than it should with crewmen who'd started fighting over a particular fembot that they both were slobbering over. Ahdjiia sighed again, adjusting another strand of her prayerweb. What was it with males and artificial females? She didn't see the reasoning for it.

So far the only lively thing was the Orions. That put a ghost of a smile on her lips. The look on the one she elbowed's face as his nose came in contact with one of the bony poltrusions there was truly a Holopic moment. Most did when that happened. Her uniform was good at hiding them. All Praises to Anashwaa for those.

Her musings were interrupted by voices and she set her prayerweb aside. A couple ensigns came in with more guests for the brig. Ahdjiia looked them over, barely able to contain rolling her eyes.

"Cells one and two are filled, fit them where you can.", she said in her throaty accented tone. The ensigns nodded and the new arrivals were secured. PADDs transferring custody were thumbed and the ensigns were off back on patrol.

Ahdjiia took her seat again and started up with her prayerweb again. Usually she enjoyed brig duty, but today was just one of those days where her eyes were darting towards the chronometer to see when her replacement would arrive.

"Not A Courtesy Call"

Rear Admiral Leigh Diedre Whitman,
JAG Corps Lieutenant Winifred "Wynn" Stevens,
Chief Of Staff Captain Alanna O'Ryan, Commanding Officer, USS Hawkwing

-District JAG Headquarters, Ciutric System-

Rear Admiral Leigh Diedre Whitman was awakened from a decidedly pleasent slumber by the incessent wailing of her communications system. Withholding an oath, the JAG officer pulled herself from the bed in which she was currently occupying. "Who would be calling me at this hour?" she wondered allowed, crossing to the desk, pulling a robe around her personage in the meantime. Seating herself, Leigh tapped a button on the communications console.

The image of the Starfleet JAG Corps was quickly replaced by the image of a striking young female lieutenant in the uniform of a Starfleet JAG officer. It was her chief of staff, Wynn. "Admiral Whitman?" she asked, to make sure the Admiral was awake completely.

"I'm here, Wynn. What's going on up there?" Leigh asked, brushing the sand from her eyes. The chief of staff shifted uneasily. "Spit it out, Wynn. You know I won't bite your head off. No garauntees about other people's thick skulls, but I need you around for a while."

Wynn chuckled and replied, "I know. What would you do without me? Anyway, there's a situation on USS Galaxy."

"As if there ever wasn't." Whitman replied cynically, "So what's going on aboard John Q. Bhrode's ship now?" Leigh quickly got up and walked over to the closet, taking out a fresh flag uniform. She suspected that Hawkwing would be here soon, and that she would be leaving.

"Well, it seems that Harcourt Mudd is stiring up trouble." Lieutenant Stevens replied, with a whistful sigh. "Shouldn't he be dead by now, Leigh? The man's ancient."

"I know. I wondered when you mentioned his name. Are we sure that he's the same person?" Whitman asked, "I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's the man's son. But until we know better, we go with what we have. No assumptions."

"Of course. Either way, a delegation is being put together as we speak to go aboard Galaxy and try to straighten the whole mess out. Evidently he brought some androids aboard, and there is some question of whether these androids are counted as sentients, and thus slaves." Stevens said, "I called Captain Sutherland, and she's preparing Hawkwing."

"Good. So how did these androids get onboard in the first place, Wynn?" Whitman asked, sitting back down as she fastened her rank insignia in place on her collar. Two golden pips within a golden rectangle. She felt like an admiral.

"Evidently Captain Bhrode came upon his vessel, which was emitting a distress beacon." Wynn allowed herself to pause, "Captain Mudd asked for asylum onboard Galaxy, then beamed himself aboard when his ship came under attack by a pair of Orion Medium Cruisers, which Galaxy narrowly defeated."

"Narrowly?"

"Reports are incomplete as of now, but rumor has it that the weapons systems have proven faulty again." Stevens sighed, "I suppose that even Cass Henderson would have trouble with something that Jebediah Quick designed."

"Come again? Who?" Whitman asked. The name was familiar.

"Cass Henderson, a friend of mine from the academy back in London." the officer replied, "He's Galaxy's new CTO. Either way, it seems that Mudd sold over 1000 of these androids to the Orions."

"Indeed. Androids. If they are sentient beings, then this could represent our greatest sentient slavery bust yet. Imagine the good it would do," Whitman said, fiddling idly with a stylus. "And you'll get to visit Lieutenant Henderson. I'm sure you'd like that."

"Of course, ma'am." Wynn nodded respectfully, "Captain Sutherland is going to bring Hawkwing off of the patrol route to pick us up and deliver us to the rendevous with the other delegates."

"Any idea who the other delegates are going to be yet, Wynn?" the admiral asked.

"I'm not entirely sure who dropped the ball on that one, Leigh. But I don't have that information available right now." Wynn said, looking briefly cross. She was usually a very organized individual, and not having the correct information for her admiral did not please her especially. "I'll forward it to you when it arrives, though we may be aboard Hawkwing."

"Very well," Whitman replied, then noticed her comm blinking again, "I have another call incoming, so hold on while I put you on split screen." Another face, this one a redheaded woman in a captain's off duty jacket, appeared on the monitor. It was Captain Alanna O'Ryan, the USS Hawkwing's commanding officer.

"Good morning, ma'am, Wynn." Captain O'Ryan said, addressing first the admiral and then her staff officer.

"I see that Hawkwing has arrived in orbit, ma'am. Captain, I presume that you're waiting to take us onboard." Wynn observed, with a polite smile. It was no small secret that the pair sparred with one another to see who could be the most useful to Rear Admiral Whitman.

"Indeed. We're coming into orbit now and will be ready for beam up in five minutes." Alanna replied, turning her head to the side so it appeared as though she were glaring at Winifred. The young lieutenant chose to ignore the good natured contest, for the moment.

"Very good. Wynn, can you get your things in order? You and Captain O'Ryan can spend the ride to the rendezvous in your war of wits, but spare me for now. In the meantime, can you get me the precedental records for this case." Leigh chuckled, then turned to O'Ryan.

"And if you could recall Lieutenant Cunningham from his leave, I'll need him as well. We will depart in a half hour from Transporter 3. Does that work for you, Alanna?" Whitman asked.

Captain O'Ryan checked her schedule. "That will do just nicely, Admiral. I will await you and the Lieutenants in a half hour. Comm me when you're ready."

"I will."

"Good, Hawkwing out," the captain said, then dissapeared.

"Thank god." Winifred said, relaxing into her chair. "If I'm exposed to too much of her 'wit', I may vomit."

"Now, now, Wynn. She is a superior officer," Leigh reminded her headstrong assistant. "Just bide your time and remember that you'll soon be visiting friends. Now get moving, before I plant my boot in your rear."

"Yes, ma'am." the chief of staff sighed. "Stevens clear." She too dissapeared, leaving Rear Admiral Whitman with her thoughts. It was going to be an interesting ride.

OOC: This is a series of posts co-written by Maggie Harrington and Francis Byrne.  For this one, Maggie is her usual self, but a year younger, and Francis is playing the part of her former roommate, Ensign Louisa Byberry.

Flashes Of The Past - Part 1:
"Dealing In Indefinity"

Ensign Rima Pennington, Security/Tactical Officer, USS Rondelle
Ensign Louisa Byberry, Counselor, USS Rondelle

-Junior Officers' Quarters, USS Rondelle-

"This is where I'm going to live for an indefinite period of time." Rima Pennington looked incredulously around the tiny room where her current roommate-to-be had guided her.  "Here."

"Indefinate is such a harsh word, Rima." Counselor Louisa Byberry replied, "In all likelihood you'll only be onboard the Rondelle for a few months.  Most crew leave after that.  Try not to look so disdainful."

"I don't look disdainful.  I look... shocked.  Also, a few months is a long time...  How long have you been here?"

"Me?" Louisa asked, "I've been on for three years.  But I don't care to transfer.  There're enough overworked engineers and ops workers on this ship to keep me busy for a while.  I can't abandon them, you know."

"Abandon?  As in they're psychologically dependant on you?  Are you sure it's not just apathy?"

"No.  Not really," she replied, "I'm their counselor.  When people establish a patient-counselor relationship, switching counselors can be problematic and time consuming.  Otherwise, just between you and me, I would get off this bucket."

"Oh.  Well.  This ship looks okay so far, but...  There were people all over the place.  A lot of them.  Is that normal?"

"Crew of 80.  More for this mission." she said, then as if letting Rima in on a secret, "We're supporting USS Havoc, one of the Steamrunner-Class Medium Cruisers.  So we'll have 40 or so extra people onboard."

Rima slumped even more (if that was possible).  "So...  120 really bored people on a small engineering ship.  Charming...  Is this mission actually leading anywhere, or do they just hate us?"

"Some sort of minor raiding group.  Havoc is in charge of routing them out of the nebula that they're hiding in.  We're just supporting Havoc," she said, "Might mean we get more bunkmates."

"Lovely.  Marvellous.  My first assignment and I'm spending it in a hole with nothing better to do but wait for a bunch of ignorant miscreants to defeat another bunch of ignorant miscreants."

"I wouldn't call Captain W. J. Stoddard and ignorant miscreant," Louisa said, "He's up for Commodore soon.  That's Havoc's CO.  Or his chief tactical officer, Cass Henderson.  Charming british guy.   I met him on shore leave two weeks ago.  We were both on Risa for a few days."

"I'm sure...  On the other hand, we have their crew, and I take it you haven't ever spent 'a few days on Risa with them?"

"No, I don't know anyone else, if that's what you mean," the roommate replied, lying down on her bunk, "And you can't tell me you've never been to Risa."

"I came close once, but I decided to stay home and read instead."

"Okay," Louisa said, "But you're missing out.  Besides, you look like you could use a nice tan and an oil bath.  And you could have read poolside on Risa.  You'd probably pull some nice male attention in a swimsuit, if you know what I mean."  The flighty young woman chuckled.

Rima glared, making a heavy (and she felt, commendable) effort not to strange her roommate, "Yes, that's definately the only reason to go anywhere, if you're a shallow enough idiot."

"I never said that was the only reason," Louisa replied, "It's very relaxing.  Besides, I was there for a conference.  A lot of medical conferences are held at the colony there."

Apparently this woman was unflappably upbeat, which meant Rima couldn't even amuse herself by psychologically wasting her.  Damn.  "Oh, well... I'm not one for pools."

"Not everyone is," Louisa said, "What do you enjoy?"

"Pain, anguish, and baking.  You?"

"I'll try anything once.  I'm fond of reading, talking, dealing with other people," she said, "That's why I'm a counselor."

"Do they enjoy putting exact opposites together or something?"

"Hmm?  What do you mean?" Louisa replied, rolling off her bunk and walking over to the room's computer to check messages.

"I'm completely antisocial.  Also, I'm incredibly set in my ways.  Did you get anything?"

"Nope, nothing new," she said, "Why so antisocial?  Why don't like people?"

"That is the general definition of 'antisocial', yes.  And if I don't like people, why would I pour my heart out to one moments after I've met them?"

"Very true.  Look at it this way.  I like to think of myself as realistically compassionate.  I'm not likely to get mad at you over some uncontrollable way you feel.  On the other hand, Ensign Lornes, one of the others that you could have been paired with, has a tendency to 'react adversely' to people who piss her off, and she's a 200 pound security officer with a 6th degree blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do.  So when I saw your antisocial on your profile, I had you placed here to keep you out of trouble."

Rima blinked.  "Oh.  Thanks?  I'm not that bad... except when people are, you know, talking to me..."  she shrugged, "I'm just not a people person."

"Don't worry about it.  I'll try not to bother you too much.  But I am going to recommend that you see a counselor.  You see a counselor.  You're assigned to one when you come aboard.  Lieutenant Carver is my counselor.  In turn, I'm yours."

"You obviously have a terrible death wish.  I can assure you that whenever people have... recommended that, they have usually not lived to regret it."

"I highly doubt that, since you're around to tell me about it.  And this is your first posting.  No previous counselors at SFA, either."

"... Damn.  Welll, they wouldn't have, anyway.  And these things can go unnoticed.  Somtimes."

"Sometimes," Louisa chuckled, "But not on starships.  I thought you said you weren't that bad?"

"Sometimes.  And I'm really a good person.  At heart?"

"Good.  You seem nice enough."

"Really?  Damn, I'm not trying hard enough.  I don't suppose your happy feelings towards me extend to, say, alibis?" she grinned.  This one might be breakable after all.

"Nope," she laughed, "You're on your own, there."

Or not.

[All hands to departure stations.  USS Rondelle departing Starbase 621 in 0025 hours.] the cool, female voice of the computer reported.

Rima grimaced, "Damn.  Well... nice meeting you... I think."

"It'll have to do," Louisa smiled, "Anyway.  I need to get down to counseling.  Do you eat in or in the crew mess?"

"I think in the crew mess, why?"

"Just wondering.  Later, Ensign," the counselor said, then headed for her departure post, leaving Rima alone for the time being.

"Yeah... See you."

"What a Tangled Web We Weave"

by
Lieutenant Cassius Henderson,
Chief Tactical Officer

Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer

"Commander Corgan, we have another unwelcome guest in the Liaison Offices on Deck 3. Please remove him at your earliest convenience." Curran had cleared a path to his desk and sent a request off to the Chief of Security. Corgan was not in his offices as would be logical, but the forwarding service would place his request in queue once Security had cleared all others ahead of him.

"I've heard about you, Lieutenant." A statement, its tone not betraying his thoughts. Curran kept his back to the officer, but kept one eye and all his senses for any movement untowards him.

"Really?" Cassius said, sounding slightly surprised. His intelligence training, as well as the habit of watching people, made that possible. "I can't say that you've been off my radar either, so to speak."

A grin tugged at the corner of the Kelvan's lips. "Of course not." He bent down to pick up a stack of padds that had tumbled to the floor. Their images were thankfully dark, so Henderson couldn't see that he'd been reading up on his personnel files after Natasha's orders to convene with him.

"And what did you find out about me, Lieutenant?"

"That you are a member of an older and respected race, the Kelvans. That you're one of Ambassador-General Mol's favorite troubleshooters." Henderson said, then decided to let a little bit of information slip. "I do very similar work myself, for Irene deMercereau."

Curran nodded. Either this Henderson was truly being respectful and realizes the Kelvans are needed to help bring the Federation into its next evolutionary step of greatness, or he was probing for a weakness. The Kelvan voted for the latter. Humans were a tricky lot, and deceitful in their ways. No honor among theives, as they saying went.

Plus, he was dealing with one of Starfleet's own favourites as well. deMercereau was not a weak human. She was a very powerful one if anything. This was a path he could run with.

"Admiral deMercerau and Ambassador-General Mol have an agenda that involves yourself and I. Do you have any information relating to what that agenda may be, Mr. Henderson?" Curran glided over to the main door, where security had just removed the wretched Orion, still unconscious. He keyed the door closed as he became aware that Starfleet Security was now prowling the corridors. He assumed the fighting had ended, but didn't care. There were more important matters to discuss, and he wanted this Henderson to release all information possible to him in order to assess the level of import.

"Truthfully, Legate Curran, I have some admittedly small idea of Irene's overarching designs. She doesn't trust Admiral Hoth, or agree with his intentions to turn Starfleet into a fully military machine. But I'm sure you knew that." Cassius said, sitting down thoughtfully, "I think that she wants to know how much you and/or Ambassador-General Mol know about Project Archangel."

"I don't know what you're referring to. What is Project Archangel?" The Kelvan drifted into his contoured chair, slightly larger than his lithe frame and giving the appearance of some small creature seated upon a grand throne. He made every effort to conceal any expression that he himself knew about as much as Henderson.

"Well, I'll be quite frank. I don't know very much about it either, other than that it was a plan by Admiral Hoth and a group of others, that has slowly been implemented over the last few years. It has three phases, two of which are public and in practice right now. One was the shift toward combat vessels. Two was the formation of your own Liaison Corps. Three is as of now unknown to the opposition leadership that we represent. It's three that worries me."

Curran's eyes glittered at the ease this human was opening up to him. How could one who was in Starfleet Intelligence so long give up this information with such unbothered grace? It must be a lure to entrap him into giving up any more knowledge. What a tangled web we weave. Politics was such a deceitful game of shifting powers.

"Then I, Lieutenant, know no more than yourself. Admiral Hoth is of a kind unto himself, that is apparent." The Kelvan nodded his head and rubbed his beard in thought.

"I am not so sure his aims are those of his superiors, though, if you are correct in the formation of the Liasion Corps. We are here to make sure Starfleet adheres to those standards the Federation lay forth. I was not placed on this vessel to help promote war. I beleive I was placed here in balance to those Admiral Hoth has succeeded in setting upon. There is someone else... 'pulling strings', as you humans are find of saying." Pulling his fingers from the trimmed beard, he leaned back and steepled his fingers, closing his eyes and trying to focus. The pain of his wrist was distracting him.

"I will confess something to you human. Only because I believe my Ambassador-General when she says we are on the same side. I am at odds with the duties expected of me. I do not believe in Hoth's agenda of a military stance, but also do not believe in laying back and expecting the universe to be at peace with everyone. We do need defenses, but not as a threatening gesture, as Brhode seems to like presenting. There is always someone bigger than yourself out there.

"I am also concerned with this third phase. If it entails the first two at all, then I am at a loss how both ends can meet in the middle. It may be an effort by an outside party to play the two sides against each other..." What if it were the Kelvan agenda? He would have to contact his government after this meeting to determine if that is the truth.

"What do you believe it may entail, Lieutenant?" Back to business and back on record.

"Truth is, I really have very little idea. I don't understand Jurgen Hoth." Henderson said, wondering still how much the liaison officer actually knew. It seemed that it would be more of a leap of faith for the Kelvan than it would be for the Terran. "You probably know from my record, which I'm sure you checked into, that I'm a chronic people watcher. I do that to get an idea of mannerisms and motivations. I've never met Jurgen Hoth. He is an enigma to me."

"Admiral Hoth did not get to his status by letting others map his routines." Kylar did something he rarely did, and never in front of others. He leaned back in his leaterbound chair and raised his eyes to focus on a point on the ceiling, fingers still steepled. His office may be in pieces, but that would be dealt with at another time. Right now, his thoughts were aswirl in what mysteries lay beyond his reach. The threads of plot and intrigue lay out before him. Which path to take, though, as the others would be lost in the web of random thought.

"A web of deceit enshrouds us, Lieutenant, and it threatens to devour us. Like a spider, Hoth's superiors cast the first strands, and they continue to build outward to catch all in its snare. The spider is coming for us, this Black Widow whomever it may be, and without being aware, we are the flies caught in its trap and growing sleepy from the slow poison we've been injected with.

"Yet, we are conscious of the dangers ahead of us, and are aware the spider is about, unlike others. Perhaps it is because of the privileged positions we both face, perhaps we are but pawns ourselves, which I believe is quite possible. Yet, we are cognizant of our surroundings, and for that...." He pulled his weight foward and levelled his icy blue gaze at the Tactical Officer, "we are most prepared."

539