~Dandelion, Part I~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin

"Computer, begin personal log, entry ... uh ... today's date. This is my fifth such log. I may have said this already, well, it seems reasonable that I would have, when I began this, but I'll say it again, in case I haven't - I've started this log at the urging of my associate, Daniel Scarborough. He, and many other humans, apparently, as encouraged by Starfleet for reasons beyond me, keep a personal log regularly. Helps him keep track of his thoughts, he says, as well as help him remember things. To date, I have found my log useless in both respects, though I can see the long term benefits of a personal log for those goals, well, memory in particular. I think it is more of a human quality, to want to hold onto one's past as much as they do. Arkedi would think it a amusingly rediculous idea, furthur evidence indicating humans subscribe to an unhealthy philosophy. Though I tend to agree with Arkedi, I must admit that after living among them for over five years, they are far more complex creatures than Arkedi realizes. Most people are, though, I think Zan would agree with me. She's a much better anthropologist than Arku.

"At any rate, this is my fifth entry, and probably close to my last. I will probably continue them, however, until I return to the Galaxy. Ah, yes, the point of this log. Due to my physiology, both the medical and counselling departments agreed it would be good if I took some vacation, on planet's surface. I imagine Daniel might have had some influence in the matter; he's often expressed concern at my long working hours and neglect to my personal health ... perhaps with some justification ... I don't know. Well, with very little choice in the matter, here I am in a shuttlepod more claustrophobic than a Jeffries' tube, on my way to VSC 38-D-29365 b, I think, I don't remember. An M class planetoid orbiting a failed T3-type star, that for some reason or another has not only not been colonized, but barely explored. The Galaxy's computer had only a low resolution cartographic map, an atmospheric scan and a minimum-level life-form scan - plant life only. So, very little is known, only that I can breathe there and I won't even be able to pack-raid any herds. And, funnily enough, despite this being a vacation, I've been suckered into setting up and maintaining a number of scans by Geology, Climatelogy, my own department and Xenobiology. Xenobiology - bah, an archaic human term that no longer has any meaning. The study of foriegn biology, that's the only thing there is to do! They should shave off the two syllables and just go back and call it biology.

"It's just as well, I suppose. I don't know what they think I'm going to do all this time alone. I can fly, sure, but humans don't go walking by themselves all day for a week. Hmmm .... I hope its windy there ... All right, I, uh, I don't think I have any thing else log-worthy, not that any thing else I said was, but, um, I'm going to stop now, since I'm essentially talking to myself."

Indeed, he was talking to himself, Cutter noted as he shut off the recording. Throughout his log entry, he had been staring at his reflection in the shuttle porthole. Best to comment on his narcissism another time, he thought. But, what else was there to do? He had been sitting in this damn shuttle for six hours, now. He had read two books, and, though he had brought more, he couldn't concentrate on any more text after several straight hours of reading. He had listened to music, bellowing along with his own mediocre voice - mediocre at best - until his throat was sore. He ate. He tried sleeping, but he can't sleep sitting up, even after the exertion of masturbation. He spent some time trying to play some of the computer games, though that seemed to make him more bored than he already was.

Cutter sighed and stared at his reflection for another few moments. He lifted his hand and let it fall on his chest and began lightly stroking in an attempt to arouse himself. Eventually, his hand moved downwards and his other took its place on his chest. He sighed again, realizing the futility, letting his hands fall and knocking his head against the back of his seat in his frustration.

"Computer, how much longer?"

"Estimated time of arrival - two hours, forty-seven minutes."

Despite how pleasant and comforting the voice had been programmed to sound, the news made Cutter want to cry.

==========================================

But, inevitably, despite how slowly the time seemed to move, despite time having seemingly slowed to an utterly frozen halt, he reached the planet. VSC 38-D-29365 b. Not an appealing name, most definitely. Nothing about the planet, its beauty or lack there of, its color, its personality (not that Cutter believed in such a statement, as a scientist, that a planet had a personality, though he could understand and appreciate the idea in a poetic sense), nothing about the planet could be conveyed in such a name, other than it was the largest planet orbiting the 29365th star in the fourth subsector of sector 38, according to the Vulcan Star Catalog. But, really, that could be anything.

The computer beeped, interrupting Cutter's thoughts. It was alerting him that the time to abort the preprogrammed landing sequence to a geosynchronous orbit was approaching. When the chance passed, the computer beeped again, a low, slightly grating tone. Within the next few minutes, the chance to abort into a standard number of lower orbits would arrive and pass. Standard safety precautions, in case something highly unexpected occured, but nothing ever did. Cutter was no pilot, he had only a rudimentary liscense, the same as any other standard Starfleet officer, despite his species natural gift for arial flight, not that a natural understanding of the mechanics of flight through air would help control a technically complex shuttle in space. Even if it did, even if he was as talented a pilot as Savoie, computer technology had advanced so far that this complicated procedure, landing, traversing from zero pressure, zero atmosphere, zero current, to one-and-some-odd-thousand millibar pressures, dense atmosphere, few to large kilometer-per-hour wind speeds and slowing to zero horizontal and vertical speed, despite the pushes and tugs of wind and gravity, at a point exactly coincident with the surface, technology made it so that this amazingly complicated procedure was automatic. No effort from a lifeform at all. It was a luxury that was banned from most of Fruna'lin space and industry, since it completely destroyed the highly respected, very historical art of navigation and sailing, sea, space or otherwise, a legal move that happened several decades ago, but which is still very strongly supported, despite attempts by other members of the Federation and Starfleet to import such techonology. Again, evidence, Arkedi would argue, that humans follow an incorrect life philosophy, replacing fine art and skill and drama and excitement and sensuality with technology. What would he think of the sex-bot androids that had invaded the Galaxy and Cutter's life some months ago, Cutter wondered?

Despite the pros and cons of the automated technology, it allowed Cutter to fully absorb the sights of the planet as he descended upon it. In many respects, it was like any other Menshara class planet, blue and green with water and life. That, of course, was to be respected, because a planet can only become a Menshara class planet after many millions of years of hard, arduous, unceasing element-transforming work by algea-like plant life, and then by fern-type plants, and then the enviornment is just so that a wide variety of flora can, well, flourish. Only the lucky few sprout fauna. This planet was no different, green covered most of the visible land masses like the weeds it was composed of, purple covered the rest, oceans reflecting the blue skies and black space mixed with the red dwarf sun it so closely orbited above. It looked to Cutter that the planet, or at least the side facing him, was at least 80% water, though he knew he could look at the computer and get a far more accurate estimate.

Then the thought struck him, he had forgot to initialize the cartographic scans for Geology! He glaced over at the sensor control panel attached to the ceiling to his left, but, it had started automatically, running smoothly without errors. And again, he realized his own superfluousness. The computer had even picked his landing spot, obviously, since it was heading near the edge of a long strangle of a continent. Cutter judged that it would set him down in a region of wooded plains, but close enough to the ocean and a low mountain range so that the shuttle could perform a low energy, hopper flight to the coast if he wanted to go to the beach or up into the rocks, if he wanted to go there. He had no choice in the matter, seemingly, but at least the shuttle's computer was considerate.

The last part of the landing was always the quickest, both in shuttle and in arial flight. Cutter would rediscover the phenomena he normally took for granted on occasion, how things, although appearing very small while one was airbourne, would not shrink much as you got higher, and of course, the opposite if you were descending, things did not grow, until you hit a critical point, and things exploded in size as if you were falling ever faster and faster, though, you would have reached a terminal velocity long before. But shuttles could propel themselves beyond their terminal velocity, however insane it would be to do so. And so it seemed to Cutter, as the ground grew larger at exponentially increasing speed, trees and forests sprouted up from the ground towards his face and even blades of grass became resolved in his eyes as his craft descended, waving in a brisk wind like crests in a lake. This always bothered Cutter, not the landing itself, that would be rediculous, of course, considering his physiology. No, it was the lack of control, he could not flap his wings in a shuttle, he could not slap down the wind in gravity's face here, he could not angle his body and curve back up on regained lift, he had no control, none at all, and that fact tensed his stomach and throat and his tongue so that it inflated in his mouth until it felt like it was wedged between two rocks trying to split his jaw and his head apart. A stupid phobia, and one Arkedi never seemed to deal with when he was flying the glider pod of his solar sailing vessel down to the surface of Kenara, one of his seemingly infinite hobbies and talents, but he did have control, Cutter remembered, he was steering, he was lifting and lowering the flaps and the ailerons and the spoilers and the slats, he was initializing and shutting down the rocket decelerators and stabilizers. Maybe it was the concentration nessecary to fly a suborbital glider, he didn't have room in his head to realize that he was still at the mercy of a machine that could fail, that a flap could stick and drive him into a spin, to his death. Or maybe that was the drama and excitement and sensuality Arkedi was talking about. Or maybe Arkedi was in fact a fool. Certainly at this moment, that seemed the more likely of the choices.

But it was a fleeting moment, his fear, the landing, it was over before he knew it, like a shot given to a child, like his first plummet and hard landing when he was two years old, and he was on the ground. Air component percentages were displayed on the primary screen before him, all in green, and a yellow organic spore counter. Good thing he didn't have the hystamine of Daniel. The hatch in the back of the pod opened automatically, hydrolics hissing in his ears, and his seat back lowered, startling Cutter somewhat when it started, until it was flat and he could crawl out.

It was windy. He gasped a little bit as he climbed out of the shuttle as the first gust hit him, as if someone had just touched him sexually. That, of course, was what it was - sexual. As much force as a light stroke of a tickling finger or a sweeping feather, except it was across the entire body at the same time, a soft caress against his entire frame that lasted far longer than a finger or a feather; this wind, in fact, was very steady, fluctuating slightly only in strength, but constant in its existance, a sexual embrace that wouldn't stop, driving you wild beyond your control, but this was control Cutter gladly gave away. And the way it flapped your clothes, teasing your skin, it was like you were with two different women at the same time. He sighed, a moan really; Cutter loved the wind.

After many many moments, Cutter relented to his responsabilities. He would need to start the scans for his colleagues and set up his tent. He moved back towards the craft that brought him here, and poked his head beneath the flattened seat. His tent, an inflatable matress, a couple of other tarps, a stove, food and his clothing and other supplies all neatly packed, even a water pump and purifier and shower head! He stood back up and glanced out again at the planet, taking in some more of the wind before he started setting up. This was his vacation.

Chad Vicenik
Caberation@aol.com
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
USS Galaxy

OOC: This is a recap of the mission so far, as well as a bit of repeated insight into the Kelvan agenda.

"Sands of Time"

By

Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

***

Deck 19
Arboretum
Observation Deck

***

Deep into the realms of the cosmos the black shroud crept. Silent, resilient, unyielding; the universe pushed on. It didn't care for the past, or the present, or even the future. It obeyed its own laws, overbearing and dominant. The things called 'life' was borne of the fruits it left behind as it passed. Minute molecules, made of atoms, themselves comprised of protons, electrons, ions, and those made up of exponentially smaller particles.

Those particles lived only to serve their own purpose, of which the scientists of the multitude of races within the enveloping shroud called the 'Universe' devoted their lives to deriving their goals. They learnt to bend and twist the laws of physics these particles made up, but never understood the concept of the particle.

Why was it that composition of particle that was selected for that purpose? What did it serve? Whom did it serve, if any?

In comparison to a much larger scale, Kylar Curran felt the same. His life was irrelevant, yet depended on the motions of others to fulfill that unknown goal set forth by a larger purpose.

The Kelvan sipped on a concoction of his own making. The steam roiled off the ochre brown liquefied surface, wafting up into his nostrils. The scents of his home, punctuated in higher emphasis by the human DNA's odd memory recollection amplifier in the sense of smell brimmed to the core. This was his only connection of home remaining to him.

He closed his eyes to the shroud that overwhelmed him. He didn't even feel the cold deck plating under his feet, or the thin sheet of cold that penetrated the portal to the cosmos. He only knew of the vast oceans of his homeworld so far away, now burned to a blackened wasteland from the cataclysmic radiation that they could not stop.

Kelva. A race of species born to conquer, to lead, to become the guardians of the Galaxy, beaten by an unseen force they did not think to stop until it was too late.

All their worlds under protection revolted, casting away their saviors, leaving the would-be conquerors at the mercy of their own makings.

And so they left. To find a new home, a new galaxy to revolutionize with their truer culture. To introduce the new lives to a better life by those intellectually mightier than they.

It only required time. Their numbers were low, and their opposition numerous, but their resolution was high.

Curran opened his eyes to take in the view before him.

The USS Pallas Athena, its once majestic curves scarred by carbon scoring, gaping holes in its mottled outer skin stared back at him. The Vanguard fighter crews were flitting about, in triads, establishing a perimeter in this area no one would have thought they'd be in less than one year ago.

Yet, the Rihannsu Senate, for reasons of their own, decided to take a grand step forward and share in a common goal of unity with the Federation. For at least a little while. This was called the Treaty of Galvanis, its words granting Starfleet the power to enter the former Romulan Neutral Zone at will without thoughts of impending war.

Yet, here was the Pallas Athena, visibly scarred by what has been reported to be Rihannsu weapons fire.

Such was the oddity of the situation. It was understandable that not all Rihannsu would be accepting of the Federation. Two hundred years of conflict residual in thoughts of a warrior race. The diplomats and politicians brokered the temporary peace. The soldiers knew no other way.

Of course, the Romulans faced other foes, according to Sub-Commander tr'Khellian; ones which were not forthcoming from the Exchange Officer. Understandable that the soldier would not reveal the climate the Rihannsu forces were under. Curran would do exactly the same to preserve the might and number of his forces.

Yet the oddity of the situation was thus: A Starfleet vessel was disabled by Romulan fire in Romulan territory. It isn't farfetched to believe it were insurgents looking to elevate tensions between the two powers, but why so obvious about it? That idea is so unlike Rihannsu tactics.

The timing of it was suspect as well. It just happened to coincide with the Galaxy being in the area with its Romulan Tactical Officer. Could this be a subtle trap set in place by the former enemies? They did send a Tal Shiar officer to keep Savar in line, also conveniently arriving so shortly after their penetration into the Romulan border. It wouldn't be wrong to assume the message Omar sent was meant to be intercepted. It would only serve to strengthen the impression that Savar was in fact an outcast from his people.

If anything, the Romulans were masters of deception and illusion. They weren't so different from their Vulcan brethren in that regard of linear thought.

And so, Kylar Curran looked upon the cosmos, recognizing the vastness of the shroud, wondering if it even knew the sub-atomic particles called life even existed. For all life will fade into nothingness, to become one with the cosmos, adding to its inevitable expansion. All their actions would be forgotten in the grander scheme of timelessness, for the Sands of Time will wash it all away, leaving no trace that they were ever there.

"Away Team Insertion"

Primary Characters:

Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson
Major Saladin Bolivar
Lieutenant Ella Grey
Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff
Ensign Colby Elliot
Ensign Kira Murphy
Ensign Zeke Wikkins
Ensign Rima Pennington
Ensign Teryn Wilat

****

Shuttle Serengeti
En-Route to USS Pallas Athena

"Okay, here's the plan. As soon as Ensign Teryn has the shuttle down and we check the environment on the Athena, we disembark. At that point, we split into three groups. Major Bolivar will take Ensign Wikkins and Ensign Elliot to the Ops Center to attempt to access the computer core. In the meantime, Lieutenant Grey will be taking Lieutenant Krieghoff down to Main Engineering," Cassius paused, looking at the group around him. In the meantime, Lieutenant Grey and Lieutenant Krieghoff will go down to Main Engineering. Myself, Pennington, Teryn and Murphy will look for the survivors, if we can locate any."

Sitting in the back trying not to look stupid or useless like she normally did, Kira opened up her tricorder again and had it silently run another check. So far, every away mission she had been on turned out really badly, and she was hoping this one wouldn't. She expected they had sent her along because she didn't mind zero gravity.

Saladin leaned against a wall and watched the group of officers; he also silently observed the briefing.

Teryn, who was sitting at the front of the shuttle with her back to the others, kept her attention split between piloting the ship and listening to Commander Henderson's review of the situation. She was surprised to learn that she would be searching for survivors with the Lieutenant-Commander, since she had presumed that she would be remaining in the shuttlecraft on stand-by.

She glanced to her left to see the USS GALAXY's mammoth Amish security officer, Ensign Wikkins. As was his custom, Zeke knelt down in the corner and crossed himself.

"Oh Lord God, "he said softly, "Grant thy humble servant the strength and fortitude to protect thy flock as we venture forth into the unknown. And should the need arise to smite down those who would look to sheer the wool from thy flock and hang us from the fence post, defiling us like Uncle Hirum once did - may his lips be forever bonded to Satan's blistering bung - then may my homemade boot be thy instrument of vengeance as I stomp the shining light into the heart of darkness. Amen."

Teryn just raised her eyebrows.

"Don't mind him," Kira said. "He does that all the time on away missions. Just be glad he didn't mention the cow and the corn cobs."

Victor nodded and checked the status on his rifle one final time. He'd already checked everything three times, but a fourth wouldn't hurt. His eyes rested on the rest of the Security Team, Ensign Wikkins, moved on to the Tactical and Intelligence members, passed over them to the girl from Medical, Ensign Murphy, and finally reached Grey as she looked at her tricorder. She hadn't spoken to him for days now, not since he'd shown her the last fight he had promised, and it didn't look like she was going to start now. That was all right, he understood. They didn't have to speak for him to do his job.

Ella, determined to keep focused on her job, kept her eyes firmly on her tricorder and not on Victor.

Colby stood to one side putting his weight against his arm as he leaned against the wall of the shuttle. His head was killing him and as he looked around the shuttle compartment it seemed very apparent to him that the lights were too bright in here.

One of the two Vanguards that were escorting them over to the Athena swung past the window to take up patrol around the old Excelsior-Refit. The USS Pallas Athena loomed large in that window. "The Rogues report from their flyovers that they read virtually no power and minimal life signs, so that's why we're splitting up. Major Bolivar, your group will be responsible for accessing their data logs for the last few days. Find out what happened.

Lieutenant Grey, you're getting the power back so the Major can do his job."

"None? Okay," Cassius went back to sitting up front with Teryn as the shuttle came in toward the dock. He tried to ignore Pennington, who was sitting in the back fiddling with her phaser rifle. "ETA is 5 minutes. Go ahead and relax while we check the environment."

Elliot still felt like he was off in his own world, the others in the shuttle were talking but he didn't notice. His mind was in hang-over mode, one he had gotten very good at, when someone called on him he'd snap out of it, until then he would just be recovering from the night before.

As the shuttlecraft neared the entrance to the Athena's primary shuttlebay, Teryn cut power to the impulse-drive and let the Serengeti's momentum carry them in. For the most part, she was unsure as to the condition of the shuttle bay's interior and didn't want to push her luck. If there was something obstructing their ability to land, she wanted enough control over the Serengeti to be able to stop suddenly.

"Sensor's aren't reading any obstructions in the shuttlebay," she commented to herself, "so we're alright in that respect." As the shuttle reached the centre of the bay she activated both the forward and backward maneuvering thrusters simultaneously. After a split second, the equal forces brought the Serengeti to a complete halt, and she magnetized the bottom hull to make sure that the shuttle wouldn't drift away from the bay's deck plates.

"Ok, commander," she commented. "We're down."

"Rima, sensors," Cassius said, moving out of the way so that Pennington could replace him up front. As they passed each other in the cramped shuttle, Pennington shot him a hard look. Cassius smiled back at her. Rima hated away missions, he remembered, because she had gotten promoted as a result of her actions on one.

Victor closed his eyes and waited for the all clear. He and Wikkins would be out first, then the others after the shuttle bay was cleared. He couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be like the Defiant again - the similarities close enough to make him uncomfortable. He took a slow breath and let it out, and the nervousness vanished. If it was, then he'd kill this ship too, just like he'd killed the Defiant, or die trying. Either way, it would stop being a problem for him.

"Sensors are reading breathable air. Thin, but breathable," Pennington said, "We're good for a no-breather insertion, but keep your fingers close to your transporter buffers. We might need those breathers fast. Internal gravity is online." She stood up, "I think we're ready."

Cass nodded, then turned to the assembled group, "Security, prepare to enter the bay. Teryn, open the doors." He leaned against the wall while he waited for the away team to get to their feet, "When we get out there, split into your groups and make your way to your objectives. Check in every fifteen minutes. Go."

Victor stood and waved Wikkins to the right. "Standard sweep, Wikkins. You right, me left. We clear the bay, then any other shuttles, before anyone else disembarks. Watch the observation windows - might be someone up there checking up on us, and don't enter a shuttle without me to back you up. Clear?"

The mountainous security officer nodded.

"Good." Victor stepped forward with Wikkins. "Left clear," he announced after a moment.

"The right is clear," Wikkins replied in his drawl.

The two men wheeled counterclockwise around the shuttle, clearing the empty bat, the small offices for maintenance and traffic control personnel, and the two shuttles still on the pad. Satisfied, Victor tapped his combadge. "Bay clear."

[Excellent,] Henderson's voice came back, [Disembarking now.]

Once the message that everything was fine was given, Kira followed behind the rest of them, setting her tricorder to maximum range.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Cass said, onboard the shuttle, "You know the plan. Let's get it done." Gathering Teryn, Pennington, and Murphy, he took his group off the shuttle and began to scan for life signs. At least this time it seemed straightforward. Disruptor scars everywhere.

"Rose's Choice, Part 2....the Darker Side"

(Backpost)

By: Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen

*Rose's Cottage House, Betazed, Jan. 1st, 2381*

Diffrent color fireworks fill the night sky as the New Years parties have started though out the planet Betazed.

The sound of the children laughing, the beautiful songs from many parties fill the night air that felt cool againest Rose's bare skin.

Rose MacAllen came back to her home planet during the crew New Year's leave, an few others came ago including her children who needs to learn about the Betaziod gods and goddesses of old that many of the people still believe in.

Also they need to find their own destiny in this mixed up galaxy that they live in.

The children was off with Kay and her new husband Klaus, along with an new friend and co-worker who is going to be her aid name Lt (jg) Seyjar Raynor who was an beauty half Betazoid, half Bajoran was so happy to visit the homeland of her mother's birth.

It was just Rose, alone in her eight bedroom cottage not far from Victoria Palace where her bitch of an mother was still not talking to her after she gave birth to little Karyn who is fixing to be two years old soon.

But her heart ache was still there after what James did to her, going and falling in love with Rebecca then been with her and the children.

So many questions when though her mind as the young woman who was wearing nothing more than an red silk sheet on to an large balony after the young woman took an hypospray with something to block off her telpatic abitly so nobody will stop her from what she is going to do.

"That right, Rose go ahead it will be quick and painless." said an cold, evil, chilly voice with an hint of humor.

Rose looked back an saw an beautiful woman all dressed in an Roman-type goddess black dress, like an evil goddress of old she remember from the stories her mother used to read to her all the time.

MacAllen started to walk towards the balcony ends looking down at the beautiful rose garden that was two stories down from her bedroom area...she had tears in her eyes.

The evil goddress come up to the young woman touch Rose's cheek with one of her sharp nails then kisses her passionly on the mouth with an evil grin, "Don't worry Rosebud, nobody will miss you. James is gone, your husband is gone, ever man that you love have died or left you for another woman. Go ahead jump, and you will feel no more pain."

Then another female voice spoken up, this time an sweeter and full of peace.

"Don't do it Rose, think about the children, your career, the people who loves you!"

The young science officer looked back and say another beautiful woman with glowing light around her wearing the same type of Roman-type goddess dress as the "dark" goddess is wearing but this time it white.

"What people Rose's all of the people who loved you had betrayed you for another people including the men. Do it Rose!" the Dark Goddess hissed while looking at the Good Goddess with deadly fire in her eyes.

With that lie in mind Rose started to step on the end of the balcony looking down with tears in her eyes then whispers, "I know what I must do."

Before Rose could jump the Good Goddess was flowing in the air in front of the young Betazoid officer and said, "Would the mother goddess be upset if you end your life so soon?" the goddess questioned the young woman.

Rose try to say an word but the Dark goddess grabed hold of Rose's neck and said, "She needs to died!"

And pushed her off the balcony.....

*******************************************************

Rose Isis MacAllen woke up in an cold sweat....

It was all an dream, but it felt so real to the young woman.

Every one was in an perfect peaceful sleep.

But what does this all mean, does the mother goddess have an plan for Rose in the future?

The only way that Rose can find out was to stay alive, so on that night she end her plans to kill herself, but this time for how long?

"First Date"

Dr. Janelle Reynolds,
Chief Medical Officer,
U.S.S. Galaxy

and
Dr. William Giardini,
Surgical Resident,
U.S.S. Galaxy

=/\= Deck Twelve, Sickbay =/\=

Janelle was in her office, bored. There was hardly any patients in sickbay. She was catching up on a few medical journals. Keeping up on the latest cures and procedures was important, especially when it came to the various aliens they were constantly treating.

William entered sickbay. His past few shifts were very quiet. He saw Janelle in her office and he decided to say hi. It had been a few days since they had talked. Ever since they had dinner, they haven't been talking as much. He hoped that everything was ok. He knocked on the glass.

"Lieutenant, got a second?" Janelle looked up and smiled.

Waving him in, she watched him walk in, "Hi. I've just been reading and catching up on my med journals. What can I do for you?"

William entered her office, "I wanted to see how you were doing? I also wanted to see if maybe you could give teach me some things using the holographic patients?" William smiled at her.

Janelle was excited that someone actually wanted her to teach him, "I would be happy to. When did you want to begin? I mean, I'm free now."

"Excellent, where would you like to start?" William motioned towards the main treating area. He smiled at Janelle. ~~Gosh, she looks beautiful today.~~ About the other night, I hope you had a wonderful time."

"Yes I did. It was nice. Computer, bring up holographic patient number 31564." The computer did as asked and the body of a Vulcan/Human hybrid appeared on the biobed. "How much do you know about Vulcan physiology?"

William answered truthfully, "I have never had a Vulcan patient before. Think you could guide teach me the differences?"

Her face lit up, "Alright but remember, i am not the surgeon on this ship but I can show you the basics" She took a breath, "First the obvious thing is where the heart is. I'm sure you've studied the physiology of Vulcans. You usually don't find too many Vulcans that need our help so you wouldn't have gotten much practice." She continued to show him the differences then moved onto the Klingons, "Now they have two sets of certain organs which is quite facinating." She joked, "Theyr'e the easiest to identify. Green blood is the Vulcans , purple blood is the Klingons and ours is red." She went on talking, showing him little facts that he would need to know if he was to be a good, no, a great surgeon. William stared in fascination at Janelle. He was surely learning a lot from her. "Now, have you ever seen a half Klingon/half Vulcan patient?" William inquired to Janelle.

"How would you be able to treat a patient like that?"

"Hmm, I don't think I have ever come across a Klingon/Vulcan hybrid. You would have to scan them and see what they share in common with their counterparts. I wonder if Doctor...nevermind, I have an idea." She called upon the computer one more time, "Computer, I need a Vulcun/Klingon hybrid." The computer complied and a body appeared in place of another. They both looked at the scans together and both went "hmm" at the same time.

"This is fascinating, Doctor. What else can you tell me?" William said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

She looked surprised, "Aren't you getting tired of standing here looking at holographic bodies? I mean, most people would have left by now. I'm sure there are more fun things to do on this ship other than listening to me." William laughed.

"To be honest, no. I find this comforting and plus I am learning. I haven't heard from Commander Malgin in a while so I don't want my training to fall behind."

"Well, good. I'm glad you feel that way. I just wished my past students felt like that. I find that a lot of them aren't serious. I love this job because we get to deal with all races and aliens, familiar and unfamiliar. Plus, we get to go on more away missions than the average crewmembers. Anyway, I've babbled on too long. Shall we continue?"

William laughed at her, "Yes, why don't we?"

She brought up another body, this one was not what he appeared on the outside . He was surgically altered, "Now this was a real case where he was surgically altered to look human but they missed one thing." She showed him a scan taken, "He has no sweat glands. The doctor who performed the autopsy, missed it." She continued to talk about how important it is to check everything no matter how minute it is. "Getting tired yet?"

William winked at her, "If you aren't tired, then I ain't."

Janelle smiled, "I never get tired of talking. Sometimes I get so carried away that I forget the time...especially when I am talking about medical stuff."

William pointed to a part of the patient's brain. "What does this part do?"

"Ah yes, the brain. That is one partof the body that we don't know much about. We've mapped out a lot of the brain but there is so much more we need to learn." She starts pointing out different sections of the brain, "That's the Basal ganglia which are groups of neurons at the base of the cerebrum. They help control well-learned movement sequences such as walking." She continued to give him more information...hoping that his brain didn't explode from all the stuff she was teaching him.

William stretched and looked at the chronometer, "Hey Janelle, want to go grab a bite somewhere?"

Janelle smiled at him, "I thought you'd never ask. I am more than ready to get something to eat. You lead and I will follow." She ended the holographic programs and told the other medic and nurses that she was leaving. William stretched his arm out and waited for Janelle to take it. She did. He led the way out of Sickbay, turned left and headed for the turbolift. They entered the turbolift and turned around.

"Ten-Forward," he called out as he smiled at Janelle.

She returned his smile, "What are you smiling at? I've never seen anyone smile as much as you do."

William laughed. "I have never been in the company of such a beautiful woman before. It is indeed an honor."

For a moment, she thought that she felt herself blush, "Thank you. You are way too kind. I've never met anyone quite like you."

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. So, Janelle, what are you in the mood for tonight?"

"Believe me, it's a good thing." She thought for a moment, "I don't really know what I am in the mood for. I usually don't figure it out until I get there. What about you? What are you in the mood for?"

William smiled at her. "How about some Betazoid delicacies?"

Janelle shrugged, "That's about the only thing I have never tried. I guess there is always a first time foreverything." She grinned at him.

William led them out of the turbolift and entered Ten-Forward. Guiding Janelle to a seat, he pulled it out for her and waited for her to sit. Janelle sat down and settled into her seat.

She watched him go sit in his chair, both smiling. She looked around and then turned her attention back to William, "Sometimes I wonder how we get any work done. Everytime I come here, it's always busy."

"Everybody's got to eat sometimes." William motioned to the waiter, "Two Oskoids and Two Jestrel Teas."

"I guess you're right." She was impressed the way he took the initiative to order for her. She couldn't help but smile again, "Smooth, real smoooth." She chuckled a bit. "I'm sorry, did you want to order?" He motioned for the waiter to start his approach back to the table.

"Oh no, no. I'm sorry. I was just appreciating the fact that you are not afraid to take the initiative." Janelle waved the waiter to go, "I actually like that in a man." She hoped that she didn't insult him. William laughed and put his hand on the table, hoping Janelle would put her hand on top.

"So how was your day in Sickbay before I arrived?"

"Slow. There isn't much that goes on between missions." The drinks were brought back to the table and Janelle took a sip. After putting it down, she unconsciously put her hand on his as she talked, "Once we start a mission, you'll see business increase. There will be days that you'll wish that you were somewhere else."

"I don't believe that for a second. Who would want to be away from a beautiful woman like you?" The waiter brought the food and placed it down on the table. William looked at Janelle and smiled. "Bon Appetite."

Janelle looked at the food then tasted it, "You know? This is pretty good. What is it called again?" She took another bite. "Oskoids, it's basically leaves from Betazed. Taste like a little bit peppermenty, right?" William took another bite.

"Yeah, I could get used to this food. One of these days, I'd like to go to Betazed myself. Been meaning to but I just haven't had the time. You know how it is in Starfleet. It seems as soon as I get shoreleave, everyone gets hurt from their shoreleave and I get called back to Sickbay."

"Well maybe, we can go there some day. I'd love to show you my homeworld." William dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Ready for some chocolate?"

She chuckled, "Chocolate? I never turn down chocolate. That is one of my weaknesses." She put her napkin on the table, "Got something special?" Wlliam stepped up from the table and walked towards the bar. He signaled the waiter to give him him the tray. He brought it over and placed a dish in front of Janelle.

"Tarkanian Chocolate Surprise. A very very rich chocolate which is only made every 10 years. Let me know what you think." William took his dish and sat down.

She took a bite and it was as if she had tasted chocolate for the first time, "This is really good. I'm probably going to gain at least ten pounds with every bite." She was tempted to take the dish and run with it, "Ten years, eh?"

"Yep, every ten years. I take it by the expression, you are enjoying it." William took a bite.

"You are very perceptive. Is everything on Betazed as good as this?" She got a glimpse of what she had been missing, "If it is, then I definately will have to vacation there." William stood up and went over to Janelle and pulled her chair out. She stood up. "Lets go, Janelle. Let's take a walk." He led her out the door. They walked slowly in which Janelle did not say much. She was too busy just enjoying the company.

Finally, she asked, "Where are we exactly going?"

"The arboretum. I hear they got some new samples in before we left Starbase. Want to see?"

She nodded, "Sure." She thought about her sister who loved the arboretum. Giselle visited it like clockwork. Same time every day, she'd water, feed and do whatever else the plants needed. They even named a plant after her. Funny, Janelle hadn't thought about that in a long time. William frowned.

"Janelle, are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm sorry. I was thinking about my sister. She used to love the arboretum probably more than anything else in her life. It was a place for her to get away from the monotony." She added, "I don't want to bring you down." William showed concern.

"Janelle, I want you to know I care about you and really like you. If anything is bothering you, it's bothering me as well."

"Nothing is bothering me really. I just miss her. Losing her was like losing part of myself. When you've shared the same space before you were born and after, it's hard to lose your best friend." As twins, they had a very special bond. "Smile, I want you to." They entered the arboretum and started to walk around.

He pointed to this plant, "What do you suppose that is?"

Janelle looked, I don't know. If my sister was here, she'd know." She moved a bit to the right and saw some roses. That was her favorite next to carnations. She leaned down and smelled them. That made her smile, "What is your favorite flower or do you have one?"

"Roses, red and white roses." William leaned down and cut one and gave it to Janelle. "For you."

Janelle smiled as she took it from him. She smelled it, "Thank you. It's beautiful. No one has ever given me a flower before."

"No one? Why is that? Haven't you been on a date before?" William extended his hand hoping Janelle would grasp it. Taking his hand,

"Of course I've been on a date." She confessed, "Just not a lot of them. I haven't had the time."

"Well, I hope you can make the time for me. You are my superior after all."

She laughed, "I'm sure I can. Besides, I am your superior while we are on duty and right now, I don't see either of us on duty." William sighed and sat down on a rock. He brushed his hair back and laughed.

"What an interesting date, what should we do next?"

"I don't know. What kind of things do you like to do? You know, hobbies, stuff like that?"

"I'm very interested in botony, reading, archaeology. That sort of stuff. How about you?"

Me? Horseback riding, hiking, music, archery and I love going to the holodecks. I haven't had much time to do them though. Now archaeology, that sounds very interesting. How long have you been interested in it?"

"A long time. My parents got me interested. That and medicine. I learned everything I know from my parents before I entered the Academy."

"Well, now you have something to teach me sometime. I wouldn't mind learning a little about archeology."

"I think I can handle that, but for now, I think I should get you back to your quarters." William smiled and stood up offering Janelle his hand.

"Yeah, maybe you are right." She took his hand and followed him out. She had a nice time with him and hoped that they would have more in the future. William brought Janelle back to her quarters. He opened them for her.

"I hope you had a nice time tonight. I know I did." With that said, William leaned in and kissed Janelle on the lips delicately. She was a bit surprised but pleasantly surprised. She hoped that her face wasn't turning red. It took her a few seconds to gain her composure,

"I'm glad cause I did too." William turned and headed towards the turbolift, "so, see you for rounds tomorrow?"

Janelle smiled, "Oh , most definately." At that, she watched him leave.

"Act of War"

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Acting Chief Tactical Officer

****

Gymnasium
Deck 12
USS Galaxy

****

Savar squeezed his eyes closed to force away the droplets of sweat running from his forehead, but his pace did not slacken. He glanced at the electronic readout on the treadmill's control panel, then reached out to tap a key, speeding up the conveyer belt beneath his feet. If he was to beat yesterday's time he would have to push himself harder again. His breath was becoming slightly ragged and a niggling ache of exhaustion was developing in his chest. As his feet pounded on the rubber track, he stared out of the viewport into the surrounds of the Lhoranth asteroid belt.

He hated the treadmill, just as he hated every other piece of equipment in the ship's gymnasium. Physical fitness was essential for a military officer, but to maintain in such sterile, functional ways held no attraction for the nature-loving Rihana. His mind cast back to the ship's last period of planetary shore-leave - nearly a year ago, now - on the surface of Risa. He had managed to take a trip in the foothills of Risa's primary mountain range, providing such welcome relief from the sterility of the Galaxy and the hostility of its crew. He remembered gathering some wood and stone, some of which he had gotten around to carving, most of which lay in a drawer, forgotten. Of course, it was on that trip, at the spa where he was staying overnight, that he had first met Ambassador Omar, and discovered his secret sympathies for the Vulcan reunification movement.

Omar. What a bane he had been these several months - less so, for that discovery - tr'Khellian could only imagine the way the arrogant bourgeois prick would have behaved if he didn't have that particular hold over him. The Galaxy's Acting Chief Tactical Officer saw his contemplative face, reflected in the transparent aluminium window, transform into a mask of anxiety and suspicion. The Tal Shiar had been onboard for two days now, and since he had participated in her welcoming ceremony, had not been sighted. Nevertheless, Savar confirmed, with a flick of his eyes towards another part of the reflection, Petty Officer Phlan, currently pumping iron in the far corner, had kept a discrete and careful watch over him.

Tr'Khellian still found it hard to trust Curran, who had agendae all of his own, in addition to serving the duplicitous and dangerous Liaison Corps. A textual transcript of an unlikely conversation between Omar - a man of high diplomatic rating - and his father - a senior bureaucrat in the Rihana intelligence service - was all the proof he had of their desire to monitor and/or assassinate him. Given Savar's knowledge of Ramir Omar's critical weakness - and was his father also a sympathiser? - their desire to remove him was more than understandable. But other aspects of the transcript rang only false. Had Starfleet seized upon their knowledge of Atole Tekri's impending arrival in an attempt to co-opt the Sub-Commander for their own purposes? Savar scowled, and increased the rate of the machine again, as sweat dripped off his chin. He had been over this a hundred times, and found only more questions, and never an answer. Rather than seeing new loyalties or feeling protected or allied, he felt only more isolated and endangered. His very autonomous existence seemed under threat as two powerful forces sought to use him as a pawn. A pawn! How he had fallen from grace! Once a Knight-Commander, leading ships and men to conquest and glory; and now, reduced to this!

Thoroughly irritated, hot and bothered, tr'Khellian began to ratchet down the speed of the treadmill as the pedometer approached ten kilometres. As he ran more slowly, he tried to calm himself down proportionately. His stress levels had risen substantially since the Tal Shiar agent arrived onboard. She was young and doubtless over-confident, and he considered himself ten times the operative she could possibly be - but to underestimate an enemy was folly, and never a crime tr'Khellian could be found guilty of. The Tal Shiar were cunning and ruthless. Savar had been seeing enemies lurking in every shadow, poison in every odd-tasting morsel of food.

The treadmill began to grind to a halt. The Romulan stumbled off it, his legs feeling weak, and slightly disoriented, as if he had disembarked a sailing ship. Panting for breath, he put his hands on his thighs and bent his torso, sucking in air. He reached for his towel and mopped at his face, which was flushed an oliver colour after his strenuous exercise.

As he lowered the towel, blinking his eyes to clear them, he realised that the ship had changed course and was picking up speed. A glistening silver shape was drawing near. Tr'Khellian's face dropped as the battle-scarred, lifeless hulk of USS Pallas Athena came into view.

****

Bridge
Deck 1
USS Galaxy

****

Captain Stuart turned to look at tr'Khellian as he strode purposefully from the turbolift. Quickly showered and reuniformed, he felt hastily attired, and under her frowning scrutiny, he adjusted his tunic. It was only as he moved to relieve Ensign Celes at the Tactical arch that he realised something was seriously amiss: not only should Ensign Pennington be manning the arch during beta shift, but others on the Bridge were also looking at him. He glanced around, hiding the uncertainty in his eyes as Celes relinquished her post apparently reluctantly. The glances he received in return were fiery, hostile.

"Report, Ensign," Savar ordered.

Celes, standing a pace behind him, slightly to his right, gave the Romulan's back a baleful glare. "We've located the Pallas Athene, *sir*. She's been attacked by Romulans."

The venom in her tone did not sting so much as the news hit him like a bolt of ice in the pit of his stomach. Savar's head bent to his console as his hands worked frantically at the arch. There had to be some mistake.

"The Away Team are ready to depart, ma'am," the officer at Ops reported.

Captain Stuart nodded. "Monitor them closely," she ordered.

That explained where Pennington was, at least. Henderson would be leading the Away Team, and he would have picked his protege. Without looking up, tr'Khellian gestured to Celes to take up the Mission Ops post at the rear of the Bridge and concentrate on tracking the Away Team's shuttle.

As he read through the sensor readouts, his worst fears were confirmed: the radiation signals clearly indicated weapons discharge from Starfleet phasers and Rihannsu disruptors. The Pallas Athena's hull was blackened and twisted, blown away in parts, bearing all the visual evidence of assault by Rihannsu forces. Savar set the computer working on a model to determine the course of battle, attempting to date the scars on the Federation vessel's hull to ascertain the number of attackers the ship had grappled with. Meanwhile, he began detailed scans of the sector, poring over the results as they came in. He began to reconfigure the deflector grid, charging it to perform a tachyon scan. So engrossed was he, he barely heard the Captain's voice.

"Mister tr'Khellian?"

His head snapped up, as though caught day-dreaming.

"I said, what have you found?"

"I am still running scans, Captain," Savar replied neutrally. He ignored another crewman's askance look. "I can confirm that Rihannsu disruptors and Starfleet phasers were used here. There is no debris besides parts of the Pallas Athena's hull which have become detached."

There was a snort from somewhere on the Bridge. Tr'Khellian bent his head again, partially to refocus on his scans, partly to hide his face, which flushed with anger and humiliation. A Starfleet ship had apparently been attacked by the Romulans - the last person they wanted to see at the Tactical arch was him. May the Elements scorch and drown them: he would do his duty.

The tachyon scan revealed no cloaked vessels in the vicinity and no residual traces, either. Tr'Khellian's mind had already seized upon that piece of news from his cousin, about the three missing vessels which had been assigned to routine border patrol, and his imagination was already running riot, asking questions which were streaking far ahead of the available evidence. Why had they attacked? Why had they not destroyed or captured the vessel? He upbraided himself for such prejudiced questions, redoubling his efforts to find something wrong with the readouts, to prove that a major insterstellar incident had not occurred - that the Treaty of Galvanis did not lie in tatters.

The sad fact of the matter was that everything added up, every scan confirmed the obvious. There was no counter-evidence to support even the wildest alternative theory - that someone seeking to stir up tensions between the Federation and the Stellar Empire had used Rihannsu weapons to attack the Pallas Athena.

"Captain," tr'Khellian said, finally, "scans are complete."

"Report," Stuart barked.

"The Pallas Athena was attacked by no fewer than three Rihannsu vessels. From the damage to the hull, it would seem that two of the ships were using heavy disruptor cannons, and one was armed with light disruptors. This configuration fits with typical border-patrol flotilla formations." He clenched his jaw in a grim expression, glancing down at his panel. He found himself unable to meet the Captain's intense glare. "Residual radiation suggests that one of the Rihannsu vessels suffered serious damage to its propulsion systems. I cannot locate any debis to confirm this - I presume it has drifted out of our limited sensor range. But from the level of quantum radiation I would suggest the ship would be incapable of faster-than-light speeds and unable to sustain high impulse speed, either."

"Which means the attackers may still be in the vicinity?"

Tr'Khellian nodded, looking suddenly old. "We should pull back the fighters to a closer patrol ring. The presence of several large asteroids filled with radioactive material has limited our effective sensor range to just under one light-year."

Eliza Stuart shook her head, more in sadness and shock than in dismissal of his recommendation. "What am I going to tell Starfleet Command?" she asked, rhetorically.

Savar lifted his jaw stoically. "That my people have committed an act of war."

~Dandelion, Part II~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin

Cutter blinked at the dim light of dawn as it radiated into his open tent and shined through both eyelids. He yawned, stretched, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and then ... continued to lie there. The wind had died down only a little bit during the night, to a soft breeze, ni?asadcha, in Mika'kardi, but now, it was picking up again, blowing in the open face of the tent and out the back. It was the dawn, Cutter thought, heating the air as it rose and the air retreating to the colder areas of the planet, like all things, resistant to change.

He lifted his head and peaked towards the east, a happy coincidence, that the sun on this world would rise in the east. The orb was only one-fourth of the way up, Cutter wondered how long dawn lasted here, the star was so cold the planet had to be so close to have 300 degrees Kelvin, the sun took up a good third of the sky.

He yawned once more and then began to climb out of bed. The sun was brighter outside the tent, or seemed to be, causing Cutter to squint, though it was the light that reflected off the other areas of the sky that caused the effect. He let the wind wash over him, pure pleasure, as he scanned his campsite. The grass in the meadow was on average two feet tall spotted with large puffs of cottony flowers; occasionally, the wind would blow off a piece and it would fly away like a bit of feather down, alien dandelions, Cutter realized. He had to smother down quite a large area of them with his ground tarp in order to set up his tent; the grass was resistant to the punishment, pressing against the tarp and the bottom of the tent like bed springs. The effect was a really comfortable natural mattress, he hadn't needed to inflate the air mattress from the shuttle. He glaced back at his tent, the white fabric roof, which was all it was, a roof with two walls, was glimmering in the sunlight, the red star giving it an orange glaze. It contrasted wonderfully with the dark blue night that was receeding into the west.

The camp stove was set up between the tent and the shuttle, which was now serving as his pantry and closet. The stove was small, but could still fit two pots on it, or a frying pan and a pasta pot, which Cutter had used the previous night to cook his dinner. He hadn't cooked anything since he had rejoined the Galaxy, at least a year ago now; he couldn't remember how to tell when his chicken (his bubuk, actually, which was very similar to Terran chicken) was done, he hadn't let it cook long enough. After he had finished his pasta and layed out his plate and began to eat, he cut into his meat and realized it was still raw. He had to go back and cook it some more, letting the rest of his meal get cold. He knew better, now, though. It was odd that Starfleet had supplied the pod with a stove, rather than a replicator; everyone in the fleet was so dependent on the technology, no one knew how to cook anymore. Another difference between humans and his own culture, and something else Arku would harp on about. Replicators were everywhere in the Fruna'lin systems, of course, the Federation had brought them in when they made first contact, not that they were needed, nor wanted by many people. There was a large fear on Ukun, Fruna's largest moon, that the technology would drive the whole moon out of business. Over the twelve hundred years the moon has been occupied, they had constructed greenhouses across the surface and engineered agricultural plants to grow and produce a crop within one orbital period; Ukun provided most of the food for both Fruna and Kenara, as well as all the other terrestrial bodies in the system. Replicators gave them a big scare, so they started a number of varied propaganda campaigns, not that that was nessecary. Cooking had always been a long cherished art in Kardi and Katojo, and therefore, most of Kenara, if not other places as well; plus replicators don't taste as good, and so, even though everyone owns a replicator, most food is grown, bought and cooked.

Off to the north a bit was a stream, where Cutter got his water and had set up the shower head from the shuttle. He stretched, again, before shucking his shorts and walking nude towards the stream. This was a fantastic luxury, Cutter thought as he turned on the water and the purifier and pump began to hum at their work. He hadn't considered his hygene as he left for this planet, what would he have done without it? He can't bathe, otherwise his wings would absorb the water, and that was bad. The water splashed onto his wings, running down them like they were plastic, rinsing away the surface dirt, the oils and powders they secreted made his wings lightly waterproof, but the water would creep in if they were immersed like in a bath. He splashed his wings and his hair, then shook violently, flinging the drops off in every direction, then repeated several times until he was satisfied and then began to actually wash his skin. The shower was lukewarm at best, the heater was not large enough to satisfactorily handle the job, but warmth and the cool, relentless wind tickling his skin were fighting each other, shocking any remaining sleep from his body with the rapid switches from hot to cold. It was slightly arousing, in fact; a body can find pleasure in so many places.

Cutter shut off the water as he finished rinsing off the soap, and walked the short distance back to his camp, letting the wind pluck away the droplets from his skin. It was a quick process, he was completely dry when he reached the shuttle. He considered putting on the clothes he brought, but was struck by the needlessness. He was the only living thing on the planet, there was no demand for modesty, so instead, he just pulled out supplies for breakfast -- eggs and bacon, the best thing humans introduced to his culture, Cutter thought, well bacon, at least, they had eggs, though they were not commonly eaten in the morning.

He glanced at the telescope set up behind his tent as he stepped to the stove. It was not clear who had packed it, Daniel perhaps, but whomever it was, Cutter was rather pleased with it. Astronomers, such as himself, often forgot the thrill of seeing something through a telescope with your own eye, without any specialized spectroscopic optics or a computer analyzing the image for you. Last night, he had spent a lot of time staring at VSC 38-D-29365 c, the highly cratered planet further out than the one he was on. Hmm...that's odd, Cutter said outloud as he noticed the telescope was not standing up. It had fallen over onto its side, the leg of its tripod jutting up into the air. How did it fall over? The wind? There wasn't any problem with it last night, it was as sturdy as a brick when he was using it, and the wind had actually lessened a bit since that time. Someone would have had to push it over. A stray gust that he was oblivious to as he slept, perhaps? He set his food down onto the pan resting on the surface of the little electric camp stove and moved to erect the telescope again, shrugging off the curiousity.

As he began cooking his breakfast, Cutter reflected on the science he would do today. He needed to check on all the scans in the shuttle, essentially to make sure all the sensors were functioning correctly. At some point he would need to collect geological samples and an atmospheric sample or two, and Xenobiology wanted a number of samples of the native vegetation. He could get the living samples later, he wasn't aware of the affect of stasis on the science, but he would collect those before he left, in case there was any. He could get the geological samples though, he would have to fly to a number of areas and drill down in the to ground. Someone had supplied him with a corer and five core slice containers. Work could be done later, though, he thought. First he would eat, then he would take a long, relaxing morning flight.

====================================

The edge of the large red disk had just set down to rest on the horizon as Cutter sat down to read. He had had a pleasurable day, lots of flying, it felt good to fly again in real wind, in real sky. He was able to gather all the geological samples, flying to different areas around his campsite pretending he knew geology; the corer got stuck in one area, a large rock out cropping, Cutter had to spend some time trying to de-stick it, jiggling it, pulling the sample out by hand, drilling forward and back, forward and back. He thought he was going to break the machine; it was actually quite fun.

It was evening now, though, there would be about another four hours until it was fully dark; he had four hours to read, so he had set himself against a large tree at the edge of the field. Curtis had given him a book about his culture's mythology before he left. They were very interesting, actually. One myth was about a great Kerelian singer, Fahlsieto. He had a voice that no other man could rival, he could make the hearts of kings kinder, soothe the voracious beasts of the wild and, of course, greatly please the gods. One in particular, Vibirotine, was so thrilled by Fahlsieto's voice that she blessed him with a wife. Not just any old woman, though, the most beautiful creature to walk on the face of Kera, a stunning woman made of cystral that radiated light where ever she walked. Naturally, Fahlsieto immediately fell in love, Vibirotine had given him a wife that was like the living sun. There was another god, Sopranino, who was the lover of Vibirotine. He grew jealous when she created a wife for Fahlsieto, thinking that he had stole her affections away from him, and like all vengeful gods, he wanted to punish Fahlsieto. He disguised himself as another singer and claimed to be the best singer in the land and challenged Fahlsieto for his position. Fahlsieto, who was very prideful, accepted, and so, they sang. They both sang the most beautiful songs ever heard, they challenged each other see who could sing the longest, who could sing the loudest, the softest, and lastly, who had the greatist pitch. Fahlsieto knew he would win, he could sing so high, no one could hear him; this is what he was dared to do by Sopranino. And so he sang, he was so caught up in himself, in his singing, in his own talent, in his own arrogance that he would win this contest, that he did not notice the pain his wife was suffering. She tried to get him to stop, but he did not listen, until he heard a crack. Fahlsieto looked to his wife, and she shattered, exploding into a million pieces of radiant light. Fahlsieto was bathed in light, the beauty of his wife, as the pieces flew past him and up into the sky. They became stuck there and have never fallen, they lay embedded in the night sky, small points of shining crystal. It was the Kerelian origin myth for stars.

Something suddenly startled him, Cutter jerked his head to his left on reflex, not sure why. A noise, a footstep, a cracking twig, he thought, but it didn't matter when he noticed what the cause of the noise was -- who the cause of the noise was. A woman was peeking around a tree, some five yards away, blonde hair, bronzed skin, lot of it, she was naked. Cutter opened his mouth to speak, to say hello, to ask who she was, how she got here, but he didn't get a chance. She ran away at his discovery, darting back into the forest.

"Tak! Ynelbe!" he yelled in his native tongue, "Wait!" But, she did not. Cutter scrambled to his feet as quick as he could and began to chase after her, on foot. He thought momentarily about flying, but flying through a forest was difficult, taking off in one was even more difficult; he had to run. Whoever she was, she was very quick, much faster than he was and Cutter was pretty fast, certainly compared to humans who were much heavier than he, but even compared to other Fruna'lin, he was fast, but she was out pacing him, darting behind trees zig-zaging around, randomly changing directions. "Wait! Ynelbe! Hana! Tia!" he shouted in a number of languages, "Wait!"

She would not. The forest was thicker here, Cutter could no longer see the field, but they were running south, mainly, or whatever direction felt like south on this planet. He could barely keep sight of her, she was so far ahead now. Why wouldn't she stop? Why was he chasing her? She jumped through a large wall of ferns, out of sight. Cutter followed, of course, dashing through the cloud of plants, leaves fingering his body, and then he was through - another field, another meadow full of tall grass and cottony dandelion puffs. He stopped, confused by the quick change of scenery and looked around. There was no one here, he turned back, looked at the fern hedge he passed through, no one. No one anywhere.

"Saradwen jaynriRe?" Cutter asked himself, confused. Where did she go? But his only answer was a gust of wind carrying an army of dandelion parachute seeds.

Chad Vicenik
Caberation@aol.com
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
USS Galaxy - A

“Revocation"

Principal Characters:

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 38
Security Main

Victor let the shift’s task list scroll up the LCARS screen and loop back around once as he made notes and split the list up among his duty officers. Nothing unusual at first glance: three of the usual spot checks, an evacuation drill at the primary school, two more people who wanted to turn in contraband under the amnesty program Commander Corgan had instituted at Captain M’Kantu’s request, and a warning and notification of restriction of holodeck control access for disabling the safety interlocks. He pau! sed on that last one, frowned, and called it up.

Flight Officer T’Shani A’Akledorian. The name and image of the Andorian woman hung there on his screen in a pop-up window for a moment, and then were joined by another window that scrolled out a list of reports and incidents since she’d arrived on the Galaxy. ~ You’ve been a busy girl, ~ he noted. ~What were you doing on the holodeck with the interlocks off? The usual? ~ Another keystroke called up the program, and he nodded. ~ The usual. Personal combat practice. ~ Another check called up her personnel ja! cket and a moment later he knew why. ~ I can’t give this one to Skore or one of the ratings, the woman’s so far out on the edge that she makes me look stable. I’ll do it. ~

He noted the assignment, distributed the rest, and sent them out. A moment’s check showed him that the Flight Officer was in 10 Forward, and he stood. ~ No point in waiting. ~ He was out the door and almost to the turbolifts before he thought to call back to the Monitor Desk. =/\= Krieghoff to Security Main. Possible altercation in 10 Forward. Call up a team and have them stand by for a site-to-site if it gets out of hand. =/\=

=/\= Ahhh… we don’t have a report on that yet, sir. Are you… sure… about the location, Lieutenant? =/\= Today’s monitor officer was the petty officer that Victor had first met outside the Klingon quarters the year before, Deakins.

=/\= Don’t worry son, =/\= Victor said with enough of a smile to send two engineers back the way they’d come down the corridor. =/\= You will. I just haven’t gotten there yet. =/\=

“=/\= Sir… =/\= Deakins said nervously. =/\= This isn’t another thing like the one from last year is it? =/\=

=/\= No, son, I’m just going to give someone some bad news and I don’t think they’re going to like hearing it. =/\=

=/\= All right, sir. I’ll have a team standing by. =/\=

=/\= You do that, son. Krieghoff out. =/\=

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
10 Forward

T'Shani wanted nothing more to just enjoy her Pink Peekah drink, and then go and take a nice, loooong, hot bath.

~Maybe *that* will calm my nerves~ she thought, as she replayed the events-of-the-day through her mind. First, informing 'Cass' and Captain Stuart about Project Deep Shadow. Second, the *altercation* between her, Heloi, and Rex. Then, Cassius barging-in on her *stress-relief* program and demanding Hell-and-Highwater on everything to do with the traitor, Worthman. And to top it all off: Sanoe's *attitude* while searching for the Pallas Athena. ~Plus...isn't...there something else?~

~Oh, shit!~ reflexively, she almost stood up, realizing that she had *totally* forgotten the 'exercise' she had set up with 8-ball!

"Rhooz!" {Shit!} she swore under her breath. ~I'm acting more and more like a Pinkskin, everyday!~ How the Hell was she going to tell Hunter that she had, what? Forgotten...? She scowled and went back to her drink, trying to finish it off so she could hurry-out.

The early afternoon crowd was thin, which was a good thing, given the evaluations in A'Akledorian’s personnel jacket. The manager, Friel, looked up with a frown as Victor entered, then frowned deeper when he gave her the sign for a possible problem. She turned and casually set her hand on the switch that raised a low-level force field over the mirror and stock behind the bar.

Noticing Victor's entrance out of the corner of her antenna, she *watched* as he slowly made his way to her table...

With a single wish that his Aunts were here to deal with this instead of him, Victor started across the floor towards the Andorian Flight Officer sitting alone at her table. ~ At least the rest of Angelienia’s Coffee Klatch isn’t here to egg this on. ~

~What the hell? Just act *normal*...well, don't break anything~ she reminded herself. Without looking up, and while speaking around the straw in her mouth, she pointed her antennae at Victor, who was now hovering over her table.

"Can I help you, 'Lieutenant Krieghoff?"

Victor noted that, oddly, the act of her pointing her antennae at him was different than when his Aunts did it. Perhaps it was because they didn’t regard him as a potential threat and the Flight Officer did, perhaps for another reason that escaped him. Ultimately it didn’t matter - it was just different, that’s all. “I need a minute of your time, Flight Officer, that’s all.” She would either be violent or she wouldn’t, and that didn’t matter either. Maybe it would give M’kantu the reason he needed to end t! his eternal suspension in Limbo that he’d left Victor in. Besides, he hadn’t been charged with assaulting a fellow officer since the Leonidas, and if he was going to be forced to leave the place he’d come to regard as home then it might as well be for something he was familiar with.

~There's something.....*different* about this Pinkskin...~ Tish thought. True, she *had* familiarized herself with all of the crew's bios (well, all that she could access) when she had come on board, last month. Krieghoff's had looked particularly interesting at the time: Disobeying Orders, AWOL, Multiple Suspensions, Assault, Excessive Force, more than ten transfers...*very* interesting, indeed.

And now, rumor had it that he was sleeping with that Zaahl't, Angelienia. Well, that had been *her* story anyway, although Tish doubted it very much.

"N'guung ealis iil Zheekh, Na'aer Kreeg'hof," {Sit down, Mister Krieghoff} she said in flawless I'iimathan dialect. It wasn't quite a command...but it wasn't really a *request*, either.

Victor worked his way through the Andorian, slightly different from the dialect he’d learned from his aunts, and noted the nature of the statement – or what he thought it was. His Andorian was far from fluent. He looked at her for a moment expressionlessly, then drew out a chair and sat down.

"What is the problem?" she asked, somewhat annoyed. She really didn't have time for this, and she had gone through enough *shit* today, already...

Of course she knew there was a problem – he wouldn’t be here on duty if there wasn’t. The whole ship knew his duty schedule, if only to make it easier to stay out of his way. She didn’t appear to be affected by his presence though, or if she was, she was hiding it well. “The holodeck,” he said simply. No point in sugar-coating it. She’d either lose control or she wouldn’t. “Your access to the safety interlocks has been suspended for violation of the ship’s policy on removing them.”

Tish grunted. ~Well, at least he gets right to the point.~

Normally, she probably would have challenged his accusation, but after everything that had happened today, she really didn't care. Besides, in a week or two, she'd be off this ship, anyway.

"I see," she said. Then finishing her drink, she leaned back, stretching her arms and antennae. "Then perhaps, tell me: where would be a good place to practice with my chaka and hrisal, if I am not allowed to use the holodeck?" that would be the only *wrinkle* here, and she really did need the practice--in preparation for the upcoming mission.

She wasn’t going to fight then. Oddly, Victor was almost sad at the realization. Fighting was easy, simple. You won or you lost. Live or die. No middle ground, no complications. Not like living. He regarded the Flight Officer for a moment. She was like Rexa, he decided. She had to practice, or she’d go stir-crazy, like he had to hunt. “Depends on what you need,” Victor replied.

Tish leaned forward, her yellow-gold pupils growing larger her antennas arched upward toward Victor. In hoarse whisper, "What I *need*, 'Lieutenant...you can't give to me..." she paused, realizing that this was neither the time nor the place to start another fight. She'd had enough of those, today.

Victor watched her expressionlessly, his only response a shifting of his presence as it radiated out from him, as though he abruptly larger, more dangerous than before. Behind him, a table suddenly cleared out as he tilted his head to the side like a wolf and waited for her to decide if this was, indeed, going to be a fight.

Leaning back, as the fire departed her eyes and voice: "However, perhaps you could assist me? I understand that you have Fesoan family...your aunts, correct?"

Victor blinked and his sense of presence retreated back into him again. “Yes. They are the Idrani.”

Tish arched her right antenna, momentarily lost in thought as she recalled the tragic history of the Idrani clan, wiped out by the Dominion's horrible bio-genetic weapons during the war. ~We have something in common, then~ she thought to herself. She mentally chuckled as a rare, brief smile crossed her face at Victor's momentary confusion as to how she *knew* of his family.

"Are you familiar with the Ch'aaniis Theemb school of Andorian bladed weaponry?"

Victor nodded. He’d talked with Rexa enough and read enough on his own to at least have a grasp on the major styles of armed and unarmed combat practiced by the Andorians. The Flight Officer’s records had filled in any gaps – she was a Grandmaster in her style, easily able to take him if he fought her while she was armed accordingly, and likely good enough to take Rexa if she were foolish enough to allow such a fight. Neither one of them were good with hand weapons. “I can’t give you a match worth your tim! e,” he said bluntly. “I’ve never trained with hand weapons.”

She bobbed her antennae--an Andorian approximation of a 'nod'. "I see. Then perhaps, something a little less strenuous? Since I can no longer use the holodecks... I'll need someone..." she leaned closer again, eyeing him... "who can offer me a challenge..."

He frowned. “I don’t know that I’d be better there, Flight Officer. My Aunt Rexa is the one you’d need to spar with, she’s the master, not me.” He paused a second, and then added tonelessly, “I don’t know the fancy moves, the little niceties, the strikes with all the colorful names like she does. I just hurt people… or kill them.”

"That sounds like a good challenge, then," she said, leaning back in her chair again. There was *definitely* something different about this Hew-mon. He had some strange...power...*intoxicating* sense of barely-controlled, on-the-edge danger that sent chills and thrills throughout her body.

“I don’t spar with people, Flight Officer – it isn’t a good idea.” Victor looked at her for a moment, judging the tilt of her antennae and the way she was shifting in her chair. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that she was reacting the same way that Angelienia had – and that thought opened up the raw spot inside him left from the incident, letting all the emotions he’d thought dealt with and gone rush back, making him angry enough to not care if it was smart or not to spar with the Flight Officer as long as! he got to release some of the emotions inside him. “But I don’t feel very smart today,” he finished.

"And if you *beat* me, Mister Krieghoff, then you can put me in the brig," she said, smiling slyly at her slightly-veiled *offer*. "Besides, I’m interested to see your *style*..." she trailed off.

Yes, it was like Angelienia all over again. “Like I said, Flight Officer, I’m no master; you want my Aunt Rexa for that.” He looked at her for a moment, and, prompted by something she’d said earlier, he added, “You’re not barred from the holodeck, though – just access to the safety interlocks. There are ways around that if you know them – at least two. “I do it one way, my aunt another, but I can’t tell you which would work for you if I don’t know what you need to practice.”

Tish was just about to reply, when the automated 'All-Hands' tone went out over the intercom, as she now--for the first time--noticed the battle-scarred hull of the Pallas Athena looming out the 10-Forward portals: +All hands, Red Alert!+

Victor stood without a word, hand already reaching for his combadge when it signaled, =/\= Security Main to Krieghoff – report back ASAP for Away Team duty. =/\=

“Another time, Flight officer,” he nodded as he turned to go, already starting to make the comparison to the last time he’d been placed on a similar task – and what the trip to the Defiant had cost him.

"Looking into Leads"

Lt. Cmd. Rose Isis MacAllen,
Starfleet Scientific Corps.

Ensign Paulo DiMillo,
Asst. Chief Intelligence

Paulo sat at the control station in one of the science labs. He was currently working on a side project of his, a project that had decided his career in Starfleet. All he knew was that enough things had happened to this person that maybe in some side way it was connected to his sister.

Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen was walking into the lab while typing into her PADD, she was shocked to see a man she didn't know at one of the science lab stations.

In her most commanding voice the young Betaziod asked, "What in the hell are you doing, Ensign?"

Paulo looked over his shoulder, not really caring about who it was. "I am working 'Commander," he replied. "I will only be a few more minutes and I will be out of your hair. I would have done this from Intel but some of the command protocols are not working at the moment and I had to come here to get the files I needed."

"I know you are working on an side project then your Intel report. And I better you think you need to stop digging into my records." Rose replied in an semi colder voice while walking towards another another station to file an report.

Paulo was shocked, he had thought he had covered up all his tracks, he would just have to play hard ball. "I don't know what side project your talking about 'Commander. I am just doing my job and getting some data from the science lab's computer core. That is all. As I said the command interface was down so I had to come here to do my work."

"Right and I'm the Empress of Betazed."

Paulo looked back over his file quickly, shit! She was! Well, at least close enough. He quickly put up some of his mental shields to block her advance into his head. "Well then," he said as he got up, "I will get out of your way."

"If you have an question about my records then stop beating around the bush and ask me." replied Rose while turning her dark eyes towards the younger Ensign with a little smile.

Paulo looked back at her. "I am not beating around the bush, I really have no idea what your talking about."

"Is it something about my past that you were digging into, maybe trying to find some answers even though I don't know you at all and you don't know me."

Paulo thought for a moment. He wish he had known she betaziod sooner, as he hadn't had time to read her file yet, but just download it. "Your past may be the answer to something from my past. That is all."

"If you needed my help why didn't you come to me personal." the young Betaziod replied while grabbing Paulo an chair.

"By the way if you know by now I'm Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen and you are?" asked Rose in an gentle voice and smile trying to relax him.

"It's not something I am forward with it," Paulo replied. "Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Assistant Intel Officer."

"Nice to meet you Ensign. So, what this all about?" she asked while sitting cross from in at an near by station.

"Trying to solve something from my past, that is all."

"Somebody close, look Ensign I would like to help you if you would let me. Because if you were looking into my records then it must be something that is very close to home."

"Just about my family. I lost some of my family, and it seems that some of the cruel things that have happened in your life could be related to my past. That is all."

"Ok, if that all and if you don't want my help then I will go." said Rose while getting up from the chair and heading toward the door.

"Let me at least take you to get a drink at least," Paulo said. "It's just hard to talk about it as no one has ever wanted to know about it and this is the first time that anyone has wanted to try and help me."

Rose MacAllen reached out her hand towards the young Ensign and smiles, "I agree, Ensign DiMillo. Lets go get that drink, lucky I'm off duty for right now."

Paulo walked up next to her, and let her lead them out of the lab.

**Ten Foward**

"Ok, Ensign start from the beginning and why do you think I'm have somebody to do with it." the Betaziod replied while nursing her glass of Bajoran spring wine.

"Through your life you have had many terrible things happen to you, and in some cases the person was not charged with a crime. In my family there is me and both of my parents. When I was younger I used to have a younger brother and sister. My brother died at the age of 3 after his twin was kidnapped during their birthday celebration. The reason I look into your past cause I feel there may be a connection between your past and my past. To this day I am still trying to find my sister and the person responsible." Paulo then stopped. He had said that whole thing without flinching or showing any emotion at all. He felt all the emotion build up inside him, but forced himself to shove it down out through his toes. He had almost broken down the last time he had talked about it, but this time was different. It was with someone of a higher rank and someone who had a better idea of what the was going through at the time.

"Because all of the rapes and the kidnappings I when though, you think the people who did it to me have your sister?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well first things first is that we need to look though the records of the men who done this to me to see if there are connected between your sister and I, I will call up some people to get their up-to-date records." Rose replied while typing into an small PADD, then gave him an gentle smile trying to calm him.

"There is a problem with that," Paulo said. "Their records don't exist anymore. During the terrorist attack so many months ago someone hacked into the criminal justice system and erased some of the files. Do you think your friend has any copies of his own?

"I believe so Paulo, she keeps three copies in private places."

"Well then, get them as I can't seem to find any copies anywhere."

"Just give me an few days alright." the Betaziod replied while taking another sip of her Bajoran wine.

Paulo sat there. He was finally getting someplace in this long investigation of his of where his sister might be. At this point he just wanted a body, a body to put in the empty tumb next to this brother.

"So, now what...I mean what else do you want to know?"

"I really don't know," Paulo said. "In all the time I have been doing this I never thought I would get a break like this, so I have no idea."

"Well we will get some answers in an few days..." Rose replied while taking her last drink of her wine.

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