~Gryphon Asteroid Field, Astrographical Report~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Lt. Tonik

"So, these are the holographic upgrades?" Cutter asked. "So, its simply a holodeck now?"

His vulcan colleague hummed in slight dissatisfaction, "No, not quite," Tonik corrected. "Although it is true that the projection capability is identical to that of the recreational holodecks, the holographic tactical interface is much more advanced."

"Ah, so a holodeck that can read your hands better then?"

Again, Lt. Tonik harumphed. "Holography is a very radical leap forward in user interface technology. It can be adapted to all aspects of computation if it did not require so much processing power. But this should not be used for entertainment purposes."

"No," Cutter immediately agreed. He stood with Tonik on the platform in the center of the large room, though its size could not be observed at the moment. It appeared they were standing on a floating disk in the middle of space in the midst of an asteroid disk. The perspectives were altered such that he and Tonik were a good half an AU tall. "No, of course not," he repeated, though, in truth, Cutter wasn't opposed to the idea.

"Do you desire a tour of the Gryphon system now, Lieutennant?" Tonik asked, lowering a small screen in front of his left eye and raising his hands, rotating his palms up, closing his fists and bringing them towards his chest. The effect was zoom in, shrinking their relative hieghts by a magnitude or so. He held his hands out again, back to the neutral position, prepared to conduct his cartographic orchestra.

"Lead on, Tonik."

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To: Captain Daren R. M'Kantu
From: Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Subject: Characteristics of Gryphon System Date:

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CC: Senior Staff

This report covers the astrographical features of the Gryphon Star System. For easy access and assimilation of this information, this report is organized as follows:

I - Gryphon Star II - Orbiting Asteroids III - System Economics and Future Plans IV - Departmental Concerns

I - Gryphon Star

The Gryphon star system, or VSC 242-N-987643, is located in block 617, sector 06, near Klingon and Tholian territory. It is well explored, though political reasons prevent the Federation from performing detailed science in the system. Gryphon is a cool, red M7 class star with a temperature of about 2800 Kelvin. It is 0.15 solar masses, has a radius one fifth that of Sol and a luminosity of 0.0034 Lsol. Small stars like Gryphon tend to be variable stars, so these values are averages. The radius will vary between 0.15 and 0.25 solar radii and the luminosity by about one magnitude. Its metalosity is very high, which is not unusual, but is not surrounded by any large bodies, which is. Metalosity is usually a good prediction of planet formation.

II - Orbiting Asteroids

Gryphon has no planets in orbit, however, it was surrounded by a dusty birthing cloud whose remnants exist today as the Gryphon asteroid field. The asteroid population is quite high, approximately 3.2 million asteroidals larger than half a kilometer exist in the last published count. The large number itself, along with the regular disk-like distribution indicates no planet formation; even if planets had formed and been ejected, paths in the debris would have been cleared.

The disk is seperated by a couple broad chemical boundries. Between 0 and 0.15 AU, only metal, silicate and stony-iron asteroids exist. At about 0.15-0.2 AU, the temperature of material is about 250 Kelvin, so water ice and other volitiles can exist without evaporating away. Carbonaceous asteroids, or C-type asteroids, exist at this distance, along with the more metal rich asteroids, and extend out to about 3 AU. Here, the population of metal asteroids begins to fall away, and only frozen volitile asteroids exist. These are the asteroids that become comet nuclei.

Notable large asteroids:

Lammergeir - 1124 km Drayson - 1068 km Troyer - 1066 km Hruggin - 963 km Sellman - 945 km Perstman - 921 km Descroix - 921 km Dernos - 902 km Gilmore - 896 km Callimo - 879 km Smythe - 823 km Vicenik - 799 km Redinger - 786 km Vanric - 783 km

Asteroid composition is not unlike standard model predictions, based on solar composition and metalosity. The metallic asteroids, or M-type asteroids, are rich in iron, nickel, cobalt, platinum group metals, copper, silver, gold, manganese, titanium, rare earth metals, uranium, aluminum, etc. The silicate, or S-type, asteroids have deposits of dilithium. Carbonaceous asteroids are composed mainly of carbon. About 75% of the non-icy asteroids are C-type, 15% are S-type and 10% are M-type.

III - System Economics and Future Plans

The Gryphonites use modern mining techniques and machinery that is usually purchased from Federation manufacturers. Water ice taken from the more volitile-rich asteroids and the icy comet core asteroids, D-type asteroids, is used to irrigate the system. The system's largest water colony is on Smythe, at about 2.1 AU. Hydrogen used in mining chemistry is also taken from these bodies. Carbon and other volitiles are imported from the large C-types, like Dernos and Vanric, to be usind in mining the M-type asteroids, which have no such resources of their own. Many small automated transport ships, that run on H2/O2 rocket fuel, created on Smythe, ferry between the major mining settlements.

The Gryphonites export nearly all of the metal they mine, using very little of it for furthur expansion. They also possess minor manufacturing capabilities, mold casting and alloy creation, which they also sell. Their alloy creation abilities are broad, but simple, and include steel alloys, like stainless steel and duranium, aluminum alloys including transparent aluminum, titanium alloys including tritanium, and copper alloys. The colonists here import much of what they use, including most of their foodstuffs, sophisticated machinery, like mining equipment, medicines, machine lubricants and oils and Helium 3 isotope fuel for fusion reactors. Deuterium can be mined from the icy asteroids, of course, however, this fusion reaction makes the reactors radioactive over time and require periodic replacement, which is more expensive than Helium-3 imports.

Lammergeir, a stony-iron asteroid at about 0.3 AU, is home to the oldest colony, not much larger today than its original size. The two largest settlements are on Drayson, another stony-iron asteroid at about 0.27 AU, and Troyer, the largest M-type asteroid at about 0.2 AU.

One of the political groups that reside in this system, the Draysonites, wish to terraform the interior of some of the larger asteroids in order to form larger, more permanant colonies. These colonies are most likely planned for the asteroids near 0.1 AU, like Descroix, Vicenik and Redinger, since the light levels and natural temperatures at this point are optimal for agricultural growth. This would alloy them to grow food within the system, rather than having to import it. Industry can be advanced in more stable, protected colonies, which would likely be used to further vary alloy production and the production of other materials, like the copper-based superconducting fabrics, as well as other more sophisticated products. The Draysonites probably would like to be capable of creating their own large scale fusion reactors, so they can cease H3 imports.

It is unlikely the Troyerites disagree with these plans. Rather, the politcal disputes in this system arise over property rights - asteroid control. In order to establish large permanent colonies, the orbits of the surrounding asteroids have to be altered and controlled to prevent collision events. Many of the asteroids near 0.1 AU can not be easily moved - they are too massive for tractor beams and have no volitiles which can be converted into rocket fuel. Instead, they would need to install Asteroid Eating Catapults to toss off chunks of the asteroid for slow impulse propulsion to control the orbits. These projectile pieces would be thrown off at very high speeds and so could easily be converted into star system-internal weaponry. It is the control over these large colony asteroids and the surrounding bodies, modified with catapult systems, that is the basis of the dispute.

IV - Departmental Concerns

Principally to Helm - Ship travel through the actual asteroid field is not recommended. The field exists as a fairly well defined disk, the system should be entered, traversed and exited above or below the disk. Ship parking can most likely be safely maintained within the field, however, active monitoring of neighboring asteroidals is recommended. Shields and tractor beams will not be effective against most of the debris, the bodies are too large; instead, repositioning of the ship will be nessecary.

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astronomy and Physics

OOC: That's right, fans: the Terror In Blue is stepping out...but *might* be back...**winks**

"Resignation"

Lieutenant JG Corran Rex, CO
Vanguard Starfighter Squadron

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian, Pilot
Vanguard Three

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

=^= Deck 39 =^=

~Better get this over with~ Tish thought to herself as she walked the hall to Rex's office.

Now that the Galaxy was en-route to Starbase 212, she had finally got her orders confirmed by Houghton, as well as informing him of her selection of Henderson to assist in the retrieval of the U.S.S. Hellfire. Now, she just had to inform Rex of her...*resignation*.

'Transfer' was more like it, but in order for everthing to appear legitimate, she - as well as Cassius - would have to fully deactivate her commission.

~Not that it matters, really~ she thought to herself, again. Truth was, she was still pissed at the whole 'you're-no-longer-a-Marine, deal-with-it' shit that she had gotten last week. At least now, she would be working for Red Division again.

~And, who knows? Maybe I can stay there, this time?~ the only reason she had agreed to her current assignment was because first, she really *did* love flying a starfighter, and second, she had promised Markay'di'n that she'd give it a shot.

~Some good *that* did~ she half-snorted to herself, as she came to a stop in front of her CO's office doors. As usual...they were wide open, and the Lieutenant's feet were propped up on the desk, a PADD in his hand...

Corran's other hand was rubbing his shoulder. A panel in his fighter had come undone in the tangle with those warbirds, and the damn shoulder had been hurting ever since. Vorrin kept trying to tell Corran that it had been because of an old injury of his, but Corran refused to believe in the old smuggler's tales of phantom pain. The idea that a new host would psychologically feel the old one's scars was patently ridiculous.

Or it would be. But then, he'd managed to live longer with Trex's Syndrome than any other Trill on record. Without becoming a gibbering insane idiot - though some people, like T'Shani A'Akledorian, who'd just entered his office - would likely disagree on that point.

"What is it, Flight Officer?" Corran asked, not even looking up from his PADD.

~Typical~ she thought, noting that he didn't even give her the common courtesy to at least look up at her. ~*DEFINITELY* not Marine Material~ she filed-away in the back of her mind. The things that she had talked to Jasmine about - only an hour before - came rushing back, again. ~Yeah...no one gives a shit...~

She steeled her thoughts away, her Marine training taking over as she quickly stood at attention, and snapped a salute - unreturned, by the way - to her soon-to-no-longer-be CO.

"Sir, I have come to inform you of my resignation from the Starfleet Starfighter Corps, and from Vanguard Squadron," she states simply, making no preamble. She watched the Trill, as he stopped fiddling with the damned PADD (for all she knew, that wretched old man inside him was probably looking up Miss March from the Orion Playboy issue...), and actually looked at her.

"Eh?" the Trill said, raising his head - and an eyebrow. "Say again?"

~Oh, for Umar's sake!~ Was the man perfectly deaf?! Enunciating her words as if she were speaking to an errant child, "Sir. I am *resigning* my commission, effective immediately." She handed the small data PADD to Rex.

"What a perfectly asinine notion that is," the Lieutenant said. "Sit down, Flight Officer. You and I both know that you're a pilot through and through, no matter what color shirt you're wearing. You were born to take to the black, so don't feed me some kind of "this isn't my place" bullshit. What's the real reason?"

Tish remained standing, her antennae slightly twitching with annoyance. ~What the hell...?~ Truthfully, she had been sure that Rex - and everyone else in that crowded head of his - would be jumping for joy to get rid of her. Now, he and the rest of the 'Happy-Family' Vanguard Squadron could go off and play 'House' together; the Black Sheep was finally leaving. And now he wanted her to... stay?

Trying her hardest to maintain decorum (even though Rex - obviously - didn't), T'Shani took a deep breath...

"Sir, obviously, I don't belong in Vanguard Squadron. Ever since Day One, I haven't fit in. Hell..." she flipped her hand to the viewport; out to space, "...even Sanoe - my *wingman* - doesn't give a shit." she tried her best to keep her deep voice from becoming overpowering...

"So...I have chosen to go back to where I came from. Where and what that is, is classified, Sir," she paused, now leaning *over* Rex, who was still seated behind his desk. "But don't worry, you won't be seeing me again, if I can help it; no more fucked-up 'Blueskin' women for you to worry about, Sir," she said, as both venom and pain filled her voice.

Corran turned that over in his mind for a moment. "Resignation not accepted." he simply replied, and went back to his PADD.

~WHAT...THE...FUCK?!~ This was *really* beginning to get annoying. ~Why the hell won't you just accept it!~ she wanted to yell at him. But after last time, she did her best to maintain a somewhat semblance of calmness.

"What...did you say, Lieutenant?"

"I said.." the Trill looked up again, enunciating in the same fashion T'Shani had done not too long before, "Resignation.. Not.. accepted. You're a good pilot. Whatever your personal issues, the Squadron is the better for having you around. So I can't accept your resignation. End of story."

She watched in disbelief as he propped his booted feet back up onto the desk. Her antennas arched and flexed as she tried to calm herself down.

"How...dare...you," she hissed, instantly drawing Rex's attention. She stood to her full, menacing height. "You think that you can just dictate what I should do, so that it fits *your* plans?!"

"That's part of being a Commanding Officer, A'Akledorian." Rex replied easily. "Keeping those under you from making a stupid mistake. In your case, leaving the fighter corps, - leaving this squadron, would be a stupid mistake."

Luckily, she *had* planned for this contingency, as well. Forcing herself to cool down, she glowered at Rex, while tossing another PADD into his lap. "*This*, Lieutenant, should absolve all your... *worries*," she said sarcastically.

Accepting the PADD from her hands, Corran scanned, it, feeling a weight sinking as he did so. No, he didn't like the looks of this at all. "Very well. It appears I have no choice, Flight Officer."

"Your damned-right you don't, Sir. That comes straight from the office of Starmarshal Hendricks."

Treating her in the fashion she was accustomed to, Rex stood to his feet and adopted a proper military bearing. Despite everything, he did respect the younger pilot. "I won't say it's been a pleasure, T'Shani, but it has been interesting. And that works just as well. Blue skies and a clear horizon to you, wherever your path takes you." he offered kindly.

~Strange...~ she wasn't used to him acting like a proper officer. Her training kicked-in again, as she snapped her boots together, and saluted her now-former CO.

Corran returned the salute this time. "Dismissed, Flight Officer. And good luck."

T'Shani A'Akledorian - now a civilian - turned and walked out, stopping at the still-open doorframe. She opened her mouth...then closed it, before turning again, and walking away...

"Watching the Watchers"

Principal Characters:

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 11
Gymnasium 2

Victor didn't pay much attention to the Sub-commander as he worked out, that wasn't his job. Whatever exercises that Savar was doing were utterly unimportant except as a point where the Romulan could be attacked - and preventing that was his job. He'd already begun arriving before the Tactical Officer and scanning the equipment the man used for sudden structural weaknesses or added contact poisons, and had doubled up the ship's internal scanners check of the air in the gymnasium with a tricorder. If the Tal Shiar woman wanted to kill Savar badly enough, there was little Victor could do, but he could make her work for it.

And make sure that she followed Savar into death immediately thereafter.

Today she'd changed up her routine and come down to watch Savar at his exercises from deep within the shadows of the women's locker room door. Seeing her there, Victor had thought for a moment that today might be the day, but had discarded the idea after he watched her for a minute - her body language was all wrong for it. She didn't have the 'feel' of a killer about to strike.

Today, she'd just watched her target as he worked out, a small recorder in hand, making a record of what Savar did, the swaying movements that Victor assumed were some sort of kata associated with a martial art. He'd seen his Aunt Ar'resh practice like that many times, and even if he didn't know, or particularly care, what style Savar followed, the thought of her knowing the man's moves was not conducive to peaceful thought.

That was why, as Savar finished and retreated to the showers, Victor had followed him silently to warn him.

By the time Victor entered the changing room, Savar had removed his grey workout vest and was folding it neatly. He sensed Krieghoff's approach easily, thanks to his Vulcanoid hearing, but paid him no heed. He varied his gym time between cardiovascular and muscular exercise one day, and then practice of Ch'Vash'rek the next. Ch'Vash'rek was an ancient martial art, whose origins had been traced back to the warrior-monks of ch'Vash, one of the first worlds to be conquered for the Empire under Jo'Rek. In its millennium of existence, the techniques had been changed and refined by various different masters, and the styles varied across the Empire. Only the monks kept the art pure, and their secrets and techniques were jealously guarded. Savar had been taught by one of the monks, who had been employed by his father as head of the House's guard. He had been a harsh, but fair teacher. Practicing the Art brought tr'Khellian a strange sense of peace tinged with the sadness of nostalgia for happier times.

Spiritual Harmony is taught within most of the Martial Arts used by the Rihannsu, but emphasized most within the Art of ch'Vash'rek. Just as the animal is a part of nature, in harmony with its environment, then so must the Warrior be. Understanding of ones surroundings, discipline and a healthy mind are promoted within this Fighting Style. Savar was striving, above all, for a healthy mind, to clear his addled brain of the many dark thoughts which plagued it.

"Sub-Commander," Victor said. "Atole Tekri is here."

Tr'Khellian froze, and the thin film of sweat on his body suddenly felt cold and foreign. He turned to regard the Security officer with what he hoped was a nonplussed expression. "Where?"

"In the female changing rooms."

He paused for a moment, then shrugged, a human gesture he had learned indicated nonchalance. He finished undressing and headed for the showers. Despite the smooth, flowing gestures the practice of ch'Vash'rek demanded, the tension in his muscles, particularly across his shoulders, had made today a difficult session. He turned on the water flow, eschewing the sonic alternative in favour of almost scalding water. He was joined shortly afterwards by Krieghoff.

There was nothing to hear but the splash of water on tile for some time. Savar felt the knots in his muscles begin to unwind somewhat.

"She was also in Lieutenant Commander Corgan's quarters last night," tr'Khellian said flatly, breaking the silence between the two men.

"So I heard," Victor replied, simply.

The Romulan's eyes snapped towards the Terran, anger suddenly flaring up at this apparent lack of concern. Was no one interested in protecting him? Was he simply at this woman's mercy - was Victor tailing him merely for show? "Does this not concern you, Lieutenant?" he demanded, sharply, the calmness engendered by ch'Vash'rek vanishing in an instant. "What is being done, really, to stop this woman from killing me?"

"Everything I can." Victor eyed him for a moment, eyes expressionless. "That's my job. If she wants to kill you, she comes through me first. If she manages it, then either I'm dead, or she's found a way that I haven't thought of." He ducked his head to run water over his hair. "If you want more than that, I can't give it to you - we both know that if she wants it badly enough, you're dead." He looked up, the water running down his face seeming, for a moment, to wash away his outer self and expose something terrible beneath the surface, a thing that Savar knew well from many encounters, and hadn't expected to see here, so close, filling the man before him. "I will promise you this," Death said through Krieghoff's mouth, the words cutting at tr'Khellian's control, whispers of the damned running down their edges like blood along a knife's blade and pushing him to back away, to put distance between himself and thing before him. "If she does not kill me first, she, and anyone that help her will die immediately thereafter." Something deep inside the Romulan quailed. Suddenly, he felt utterly vulnerable, naked as he was, so close to this man. A moment ago, he had been angry, now, he caught a glimpse of what the vast majority of people saw just by looking at Victor. He resisted the urge to stagger backwards. Something fundamental had changed in the young officer's face, something undefinable, but something inhuman. The look in those eyes: hollow, devoid of compassion or meaning -- it was as though tr'Khellian gazed for one brief moment into the abyss; and the abyss gazed back at him.

The Rihana left the showers in haste, grabbing a towel from the hook by the exit. He did not want to be in that confined space with someone.. something like that. He had believed Krieghoff to be human; but surely, it could not be so.

As he dried himself, tr'Khellian tried to convince himself that his goosey flesh trembled because of the cold, and nothing else. He dressed hurriedly, and had just donned his uniform trousers when Krieghoff came back into the main changing area. For a moment, a quick bolt of panic stabbed at Savar - Victor was between him and the exit. Internally, he berated himself for this ridiculous reaction, and forced himself to look at Krieghoff as the security officer casually towelled away the water clinging to his body. He was just a man, nothing more, nothing less. Fairly plain. Muscular, but not overly so. If it came down to a fight.. No.. Something told him that if it came down to a fight, he would most assuredly lose.

But why should it? This man was here to protect him! He shook his head with self-irritation, and pulled his charcoal undershirt on over his head. By the time he had donned his jacket, and looked back at Victor, he found it impossible to understand why he had felt such fear, like the terror of battles so narrowly won, like the haunting memory of fiery self-destruction. "If it helps, sir," Victor said quietly after he'd finished toweling off his hair, his voice even and controlled, "you're one of the lucky ones."

Savar frowned, looking up at Krieghoff. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"You don't see it immediately," Victor explained, head tilted slightly to the side like one of the Terran canid predators Savar had seen images of - wolves they were called - as he spoke. "Neither does Atole. I don't think she knows more than the stories O'Rourke and her coffee klatch tell." He shrugged. "It's invisible to Vulcans, they can't feel it; maybe that's why I have to be very close for the two of you to feel it."

Tr'Khellian looked at Victor for one long moment, his eyes slightly narrowed. He hadn't imagined it, then. This was why people avoided Krieghoff, this was why people scurried away as he approached, and why they gave Savar such odd looks for walking in such close proximity to the man.

The Romulan ran his tongue over his dry lips, and zipped up his boots. "What is it?" he asked - though the question he really wanted to ask was 'What are *you*?'.

Victor didn't answer for a moment as he dropped his towel on the bench and started to dress with a slow, methodical pace. "That depends on the answer you want," he offered slowly. "Clinically, scientifically - I don't know. My parents wouldn't let them take me apart to figure it out as a child, and I wouldn't agree to it when I was older. Pheromones, some kind of quantum phase displacement, even subliminal psychic talent - I've heard all those explanations and more, and none of them fit. Whatever it is, it runs in my family though. My Uncle Bernhard was like me... except it wasn't as strong in him as it is in me."

"If what you want is an easier to understand explanation..." Victor looked up as he picked up his pants. "I'm what man was in the beginning, when he fought daily to survive against a world filled with bigger, stronger, faster opponents. I'm what man bred out of himself as he grew civilized, what he's left behind as he became a species of sheep: a predator, a killer." His voice shifted ever-so-slightly, almost becoming the Voice Savar had heard in the shower again. "I'm what people fear at night when they look out into the dark past their fires and shiver, imagining that something waits for them there."

He turned away for while he finished donning his pants and started on his socks, his voice emotionally blank, any sense of personal attachment or connection to the words he was saying scrubbed clean as he added, "I'm told that after I was born, the other infants wouldn't stop screaming at the hospital until I was taken from the nursery to a private room." He shrugged. "It was obvious enough as I got older that I don't doubt it."

"No.. nor do I," the Romulan breathed.

Savar eased himself away from the wall where he had subconsciously flattened himself as the fight-or-flight instinct had taken hold again. The man seemed to be able turn his chilling aura on and off like a lightswitch, and the effect was profoundly disturbing. He stood, gathered up his workout clothes, and stuffed them into a small bag. Again feigning nonchalance, he moved past Victor so that the Terran was no longer blocking the sole escape route. He watched him fixing his pips to the grey undershirt of his uniform.

There was something very strange about this situation: the memory of the fear Krieghoff had engendered in him, just by speaking, was still raw. And yet, the overwhelming nature of that power was such that tr'Khellian was pleased to have Victor at his disposal. Was that the right term? Perhaps not - Krieghoff was not some sort of implement or weapon. But nor, perhaps, could one ever get close enough to something so primordial to call him an ally or a comrade. As he realised this, and watched Victor, totally un-self-conscious as he finished dressing, he felt sudden compassion for this fearsome man. His power was considerable, but from what the security officer had said, surely this distanced him from anyone capable of feeling emotion? Elements, what terrible power; what terrible solitude. Certain it is, and sure: love burns, ale burns, fire burns, and politics burns. But cold was life without them.

"You know, Lieutenant," Savar said, with a little smile, attempting, albeit clumsily, to lighten the situation, "if you ever got tired of Starfleet, I suspect the Tal Shiar would love to hear from you."

Victor frowned for a moment, as if sorting out the words and deciding if they were a joke or not. "No," he said slowly without turning, "I made my choice about what master to serve, I won't change it, sir." He glanced up in the mirror at Savar. "Besides, I doubt they'd like to hear anything I'd have to say."

Tr'Khellian gave a wry smile as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "No, perhaps not. We have that much in common, Lieutenant." He had read Victor's service record when he had been assigned to protect him: it was awash with reprimands for excessive force and violence, promotions and demotions, awards and reprimands. Whatever Victor had inside him, it was capable of sacrifice and brutality in equal measure. The ideal bodyguard. "Shall we go?"

Victor ducked out of the changing rooms, and returned in short order. "She's gone," he reported.

Savar nodded, and they walked out into the gymnasium. "Why do you think she was here?" he asked.

"I think she was recording you, making a record of you while you did your unarmed combat exercises."

The Rihana was puzzled. "Recording? What makes you think that?" The idea made him distinctly uneasy.

"Her position was ideal for that," Victor nodded towards the door. "She had some kind of device with her and the readings were consistent with that. I've already sent a request to have that blocked - if she wants to do it again, she'll have to resort to something more archaic than electronic imaging. Chemical film images I can't stop short of direct confrontation."

Savar blinked, and they stepped out of the gym into the harshly-lit corridor. He wondered why Tekri would record his activities - the only possible answer was that she was following the old rule: know thine enemy. Knowledge, as the great Jo'Rek had once written, was power. If she chose to attack him, she would seek out his weak spots, anticipate his likeliest defences.

"She must be prevented from attending the gymnasium at the same time as us," Savar declared. "If she gains insight into the way I am likely to respond to a physical attack, she will be able to use that to her advantage." He adjusted the bag on his shoulder as they stepped into the turbolift. "Unless you can think of any way to turn this to our own advantage? I must practise the Art every other day, without fail."

"Does she know the style you follow?" Victor paused at the door to the gymnasium. "Or is it something that she can't easily research?"

"The Art I practice is called ch'Vash'rek," Savar explained. "It is named for the planet Vash'rek, one of the early western conquests of the great military leader Jo'Rek. The Art was developed in a monastery founded there over a thousand years ago." He paused. "Deck 8," he barked to the computer. The turbolift hummed off. "Over the years the techniques have spread far and wide, but very few practice the purest form. I was taught by an experienced warrior-monk, but even he had not mastered the highest levels of the discipline, and I could never hope to attain his devotion or ability." There was silence for a moment, only the sound of the turbolift. "Tekri will recognise what I am doing: ch'Vash'rek is significantly different from other forms of martial arts performed by my people, and she may even have been schooled in the rudiments. The purer forms, however, are more obscure." They stepped out of the turbolift and continued along the corridor towards Savar's quarters.

"Then build in a flaw. Something that she'll find while studying that isn't really part of the style. If it comes to it, and she tries to exploit it..." Victor shrugged. "Can't hurt to try. If you don't want to do that, then practice in your quarters, where she can't go."

Tr'Khellian nodded, and paused at the door to those very quarters. "It may be worthwhile, but it may interfere with my training regimen. I will give it some thought. But for now.. I'm due on the Bridge in ten minutes." He looked into Victor's eyes, relieved not to see Death staring back at him, but just a normal man. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Don't," Victor said calmly. "I haven't done anything yet. If you get out of this alive, then you can thank me if you want." He nodded to the guard at the door, transferring responsibility to him. "If you have a schedule change, don't forget to contact me, sir," he continued. "Otherwise, I'll see you at shift changeover."

Tr'Khellian nodded. "Until then."

Victor waited for Savar to enter his quarters, and then nodded to the security rating who'd been watching him the entire time with slightly wide eyes, "Chief," and then started down the hall towards the turbolift and his own quarters.

OOC: Just a quirky post I thought up while listening to AOL RADIO. I just figured out how to use it and I'm jamming away to Awesome 80's and Big Hair Bands!

"Midnight Interlude"

With Zeke Wikkins,
Security

And his roommate, Lt. Kathy Kelly, NPC

Time: Somewhere around midnight.

Zeke Wikkins rolled over on the couch, barely awake and with a smile etched across his rugged face. The soft, overstuffed cushions of Kathy Kelly's oversized couch were a welcome alternative to the top bunk in his previous apartment. Gone was the constant irritation of Simon Crumbley and his whimpering and moaning and panting while in the grip of sinful, self appreciation. Gone was the infernal sounds of the humpback whales that his roommate insisted he needed to get a proper nights sleep.

"This is heaven." he thought to himself, savoring the sweet silence. "Father in heaven, I thank you for granting your humble servant this boon."

"ZEKE!!!!!!!!!!!" Kathy screamed from the bedroom.

He instinctively leapt off the couch, his large form moving with a fluid grace. His dark eyes quickly scanned the room for potential weapons, landing finally upon a vase off the end table. He shattered it on the table's edge forming a crude knife and raced into the bedroom to find it empty. The bathroom lights were on and he spun quickly into the small room, his back against the door frame in an attack position.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kathy asked him.

Zeke surveyed the entire bathroom and found nothing amiss. He yanked back the shower curtain and found no nefarious fiend waiting to spring out. Kathy herself seemed fine. He relaxed his stance a bit.

"Sister Kelly, what has gripped thy heart in such a manner as to evoke such terror?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

As was sometimes customary with anyone the large Amish Security officer spoke with, Kathy took a moment to digest what he had just said. "Oh gee, let's see...here I am, in the middle of the night with you standing there half naked with some weapon which looks oddly like my Nana Mamma's vase. Do you always take it upon yourself to shatter other people's collectibles?"

"But..but you cried out. I thought something happened..." he said.

"Something happened? Oh something did happen! See this? This right here?" she asked gesturing to the toilet seat. With an exaggerated motion she flipped the seat back down. "Did that seem so hard to do?"

"Have thee lost thy mind?"

"AARRRGGGHHH!!!!" she said half asleep and fully frustrated. "House rule numero uno :The seat is ALWAYS down. Even if we're barreling into a supernova. Seat...down. Why are you men incapable of doing the simplest of tasks?" Zeke eyed her warily. "Why is it that a woman will look at every seat that she sits upon BUT that one?" Kelly put her hands on her hips. "I don't have time for your typical male irrationality! Now if you dont mind."

"Mind? It matters not that a woman takes temporary leave of her senses when she nears molded porcelain. It is a man's cross to bear." he said looking at her before he finally understood what she was referring to and awkwardly exited the bathroom.

"And try not to use any more of my furniture or personal items for weapons." she called out as the doors closed.

Zeke sighed heavily and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "All father give your humble vassal strength...."

"Inactive"

Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter

***

8-ball opened her eyes on the beach, letting the sun bask on her nearly naked form. It felt beautiful to be out on a planet again. The holodeck was great but after awhile, a girl needed real shore leave. "It's good to be home," she said to herself.

A muscular man with no shirt, no shoes, and tight jeans walked up to her. "Wanna go for a swim?" he asked and she did. They walked to the water and she was in his arms, very, very good arms. "What do you wanna do?" he asked her and she smiled mischeviously.

"No shirt, no shoes, but definitely service," she said back and leaned forward to kiss him---THUMP!----***

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

8-ball opened her eyes to the loud thumping sounds from in the corridor. "Godammit!" she yelled and threw her overly large teddy bear that an ex had given to her at the door. That teddy bear, originally named Teddy and later renamed Eptgac (Evil Play Thing Given by Anti Christ), had received a large number of 8-ball's temper tantrums and a good deal of pain and torture.

When Jory broke up with her and therefore became the Anti Christ, 8-ball had jumped up and down on Eptgac until his button nose had come off and his neck hung at a strange angle that sort of looked like he had fallen out of a thirty story window onto hard concrete. And 8-ball had thrown him out of a thirty story window onto hard concrete when one of her neighbors back on Earth had called her a "dirty Vulcan" (though the neighbor afterwards didn't look in much better shape than Eptgac) and had also burned off one of his hands when she was PMS-ing. Ultimately, Eptgac was a sad little soul.

Unfortunately for him, 8-ball didn't care.

She wasn't in the best of moods because she was rarely ever in a good mood, and also because she had been having a very nice little dream there and she had been thoroughly looking forward to some "service". Since being on this stupid floating tub in the skies, 8-ball had not been able to keep up her social life and was extremely put out about it. Though not going through the Pon Farr (which she thanked God for that, because than Eptgac would really be incinerated), she still had needs, dammit, and she had barely made any friendships, much less any guyships. The closest she had had to getting laid was kissing a blue chick, who, while had a good, strong kiss, didn't exactly make her orgasm with delight.

8-ball got up from bed with a loud, overdramatic sigh that was appreciated by no one, stomped over to the door, stepped on Eptgac twice, and walked out into the corridor, still wearing tight-fitting night clothes. People were running around, looking busy (though a few guys weren't too busy to not notice her standing there in revealing underwear, one ensign staring at her until he ran directly into a console).

For the last few months, it seemed that people were running around this ship doing things and 8-ball never had a clue to what the hell was going on. There were, like, attacks and things, and highly offical, technical, Starfleet stuff she really didn't care about, and she had a hard time making herself be interested. Still, 8-ball felt bored, inactive. Outside of a rare few people, she didn't think anyone actually knew her name and was getting the impression that if she didn't show up for her shift, nobody would notice anyway. Infact, she might as well just go on a dangerous away mission with a few important, high ranking Galaxy members in a red shirt.

The ensign who had ran into a console picked himself up and 8-ball walked back into her quarters, jumping an extra time on Eptgac for the pure pleasure of it. She was going to have to make herself get interested in this damn crew but she didn't like being invisible. It didn't at all appeal to her. She was a troublemaker, dammit, a loudmouth, brash, totally ILLOGICAl being, and she was damn well going to have some fun on this boat.

A part of her really was tempted to walk on the bridge in the clothes she was wearing now, just for the hell of it, but 8-ball, while feeling neglected and ignored, was not sure that being thrown into the brig was really the attention she wanted. She'd have to go find something else to do, some other activity to keep her occupied, because after awhile, even beating up your favorite evil teddy bear could get boring.

8-ball threw on a uniform, some shoes, and replicated a cookie. Maybe this crappy little morning could get better yet.

If she walked out of her quarters and found a half naked man wanting to go for a swim, that'd be cool too.

"Intelligence Gathering"

Primary Characters:
Ensign Paulo DiMillo,
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

Ensign Cora Dobryin,
Intelligence Analyst

Secondary Characters:
Major Saladin Bolivar,
Chief intelligence Officer/NLC Liaison

Chief Petty Officer 2nd Class C'Hitah,
Intelligence Analyst

Petty Officer 1st Class Lysandra Stuart,
Intelligence Analyst

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf,
Chief Operations Officer (authorized)

****

Deck 8
Stardrive Section
Intelligence Offices

****

With a frustrated sigh, Cora brushed a stray strand of hair back into place. Things were looking up for her but not as quickly as she'd hoped. Her assignment to the Galaxy would hopefully be a fresh start. Assuming of course the minor glitches her attempts to access data from sources other than a ship's computer network managed to be sorted out.

So far her data search had turned up very little. Though what Cora had found was rather static or outdated. Glancing up from her station, "I need clearance to access the SB 212 mainframe."

Paulo looked over to the slightly older women. "You are going to have to get that from the Major," Paulo replied. "I got mine through him. What have you been able to figure out so far? The Captain wants this information ASAP. Sending you the information I was able to get from SB 212 and from a few of my own sources."

"I'll take care of that," Major Bolivar said, turning to a console to access SB 212's mainframe and sync it with the intelligence computer core.

Just outside the main offices, C'hitah hovered her own terminal. The science surveys had been ordered, and it was her job to obtain the information to gather together in one cohesive unit for much easier reading. How she hated her job, darnit! Reading, reading, reading. She wanted to get out in the field!

As soon as the systems connected with the more informative Starbase mainframes, C'hitah instigated a keyword search for all things related to 'Drayson', 'Troyer Compact', and 'Gryphon'.

Seeing as the volume of information was quite severely outdated - the Galaxy hadn't been out this way in almost a year now - C'hitah identified time to synchronization. She furrowed her brow. This was going to take a while.

In the meantime, she exited her own offices to find the key Intelligence team huddled over the central computer module.

"Excuse me, sirs? Ma'am?" C'hitah didn't much like the Major. He was mean and frightened of his reply. She needed a recommendation from him to get into the Academy, and so far, he hadn't given it.

"Yes," Paulo asked, speaking up. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, with the current energy expenditures allotted to us, the synchronization will take approximately 6 hours to complete." She gulped as the Major eyeballed her with that harsh glare of his. It was like she never stood up to any of his expectations, even though she never worked harder in her life. She just didn't know what he wanted!

"And...." Paulo said trying to get more information.

"If we could get authorization from Operations for a 30% increase in resources, we could have that cut down to just under 4 hours, but begin massing the reports almost immediately."

"Good idea," Paulo said as he tapped his badge. "Ensign DiMillo to Operations," Paulo said.

[Geluf here. What can I do for you?]

"Would it be possible to get at least a 30% increase in power allocation to the Intelligence offices. We are interfaced with SB 212 mainframe and need to synchronize our data with them." Paulo finished and waited for a reply from Geluf.

[I'll see if I can get that up to a 40% increase. The Captain has ordered priority power allocation to sensors and defensive systems, but I might be able to work something out.] A moment's pause. [There you go.] Information flowed at a much more fluid rate on the screens in the intelligence offices. [I hope the Legate doesn't mind his lights out for a while... hehe... there he is calling already. No surprise. Geluf out].

"Okay people," Paulo said taking the lead. "We need to get this up to the Captain ASAP. We know that we have two opposing parties in the Citizen's Coalition of Gryphon. We do know that the group is ruled by 7 judges, 3 from each party and the leader being nonpartisan, usually from the Federation Diplomatic Corp."

"They also have a legistive body called the Gryphon Council, whose head is also usually from the Diplomatic Corps," Petty Officer 1st Class Lysandra Stuart, of no relation to the departed commanding officer of the same name, reported from her console, "40 councilmen and councilwomen, 20 from each party."

Paulo was looking through some more information to compile the report. "Looks like science got us something," Paulo replied as he brought up the report from Lt. Cutter Kara'nin of Astronomy and Physics. I want some to go through this from head to toe," Paulo said. "I have also found a list of the current rulling judges," Paulo said as he started to list them off:

Council President: Ambassador-At-Large Mika sh'Sonora
Court President: Under-Ambassador Audrin Dernos
Judge (T): Judge Steven Smythe
Judge (T): Judge Grant Hruggin
Judge (T): Judge Justine Descroix
Judge (D): Judge Greg Perstman
Judge (D): Judge Andrea Drayson
Judge (D): Judge Laura Sellman
Drayson Leader: Director Joshua Drayson
Troyer Leader: Director Roland Troyer

"Try and see if you can get some information on each one, a little about them, anything that can help the Legate."

Cora had been studying the information she'd extracted so far from her search. Slowly unravelling things one piece at a time. "The Gryphon Asteroid Belt acts as a boundary between Klingon, Tholian and Federation territories. The Breen, Romulan and Cardaissian Union are nearby. Over the last century a community-based government has been established among the mining community. Its original purpose was to represent various zones and resolve disputes. That is now what we see today as the Drayson Association and the Troyer Compact."

The Intel Analyst paused as she read further. "The Drayson Association are environmentalists. Their main goal is to terraform the worlds. They are descendants of miners, but have developed actual communities. Hollowed-out asteroids were used to build city-states inside."

"This group of miners are lead by men descended from Director Justin Drayson, one of the starting members of crew of the mining vessel S.S. Gryphon, which settled the region. The Draysonites would like to terraform most of the larger asteroids and have developed communities which need more space to expand. This organization has a very limited space navy, including a couple of old transports, two Antares-Class Freighters, and a pair of decommissioned Miranda-Class Scouts."

"Notable names I was able to find are: Commodore Hunter Redinger, Fleet Commander, CO-DNS Justin: Captain Medea Perstman, CO-DNS Reform: Captain Elayne Sellman," she finshed up with the bulk of information located then contined briefly. "One other important note I located. Starfleet Command has managed to stay out of this situation by citing a noninterference act passed years ago," Cora glanced up from her console once again as she finished her report.

"Oh, hey, Ensign, I have the information on Troyer," Lysandra chimed in, "Admiral Niklaus Vilheimis, Fleet Commander, and CO-TNS Grassnake: Captain Morriane. These two are pretty big time mercenaries. Saladin II-Class Destroyer. Troyer also uses Antares-Class Freighters for troop transports and light combat ships. One has been modified to be a fighter carrier."

"Very good, keep it coming," Dobryin replied.

"I'm pulling the files on Vilheimis and Morriane. They're currently on SFI's watch list because they worked for the Dominion a few times during the war. We should attach their files to the report," Stuart said, "And keep our eyes on them."

"Okay, well I think that's it. Let's put it all together and send it on it's way."

OOC: Allright, everyone! Here's the beginning of Cass and Tish's grand adventure, in search of the U.S.S. Hellfire. Hope you enjoy!

"From the Shadows, Part IV"

Starring:
T'Shani A'Akledorian
Cassius Henderson

Also including:
Gunnery Sargeant Eleanor "Norra" Ridgeway
Lieutenant Commander Arthur Blackwelder AMIE

Special appearances by:
Major General Tanner Houghton
Vice Admiral N'Gren Gelkenrenar
Colonel Al'indal Markay'di'n

----------

** Occurs one month prior to the events of Episode Nine: "Quid Pro Quo" **

=^= 1620, 8 February 2381: Starbase 51, Beta Androlinous Asteroid Belt, Beta Androlin =^=

~This...~ Cass Henderson thought, ~...is far too like Advanced Intelligence' Campus. What is it about the current intelligence community and asteroid fields. If Red Division has the technologythey claim to have, couldn't they just put the base in another dimension or plane?~

Flight Officer A'Akledorian whipped them around another asteroid. ~They could also train their people to be a bit more restrained,~ he thought, silently thanking whoever had developed inertial compensators. To actually be feeling the ride he was now participating in would have been nauseating at best, deadly at worst. Of course, there was also the matter of how the shuttle *was* reacting, but he was trying not to think about that.

It had been a quiet flight in from Wolf 359, where the Galaxy had returned with it's prisoner and the survivors of the Pallas Athena. Cass was stilll worried by what Rima had uncovered, but that was an issue to be dealt with some other day. For now, it sufficed that Admiral Mercereau and Ambassador-General Mol knew.

For now, they were approaching what he could only assume was their mark. The resemblence to the SFAIS facility was so close as to be uncanny. An asteroid that was around a quarter of the size of Terra Luna, unmarked and unmoving. There was no mistaking it. This was very much alike to the Intelligence School.

She keyed the mic: "Approach Control, this is Starfleet Shuttle Tokyo, requesting permission to dock." Tish leaned back and shot Cass a look as he stared out the type-9 shuttle's spacescreen.

The commlink clicked back on, [Shuttle Tokyo, transmit approach verification codes now. Standby for escort.]

Cass looked up, "What kind of escort are we talking?"

Tish just flicked her antennae again, knowing that this was all routine.

He shot her back a glare. This was one agent who he didn't like working with. But then, he didn't have to like it, as 'Commander' Worthman had once told him, he just had to follow his orders. Of course, that had been before they'd gotten to talking about right and wrong, while she'd still been testing him.

"Transmitting," she said as she keyed the flight pad, causing an encoded subspace signal to be transmitted. She waited a few more moments in silence. ~They're taking a little long...~ she noticed.

Cass glanced up at the screen. Two Rogue-class starfighters, equally unmarked, had swung in alongside. He still wasn't entirely sure where the entrance to the asteroid was, but it probably didn't matter. If SFI covered it's entrance with a hologram, Red Division certainly did.

[Approach codes accepted. Adjust course to bear 139 by 004, heading 239 mark 000. Standby for auto-approach. Switch ELTACS to stanby. Confirm.]

"You know," he said, deciding to pass the time, "They don't sound very happy to see you. Yet they know who you are and that you are one of thier own." He leaned back into his seat. They couldn't make these things more comfortable, could they? At least with his commission suspended, he was allowed to dress civilian. Pennington had found that humorous. Of course, he was sporting a fresh bruise on his arm from that encounter too. She hadn't exactly been fond of the idea of spending a month in the tender mercies of Savar.

"You wouldn't be very friendly, either, if you had what they had in there..." she trailed off as she made the necessary adjustments manually. Sure, the computer could have done it all on its own, ~But where's the *fun* in that?~

"Confirmed, Control. Shuttle Tokyo standing by."

As the automated control aimed them directly at the side of the asteroid, confirming Cassius' suspicions. Behind a hologram of what used to be the surface of the asteroid, shipyard doors were opening to admit them. Closer and closer, the surface seemed to rush up at them, and it took a certain amount of willpower to keep breathing.

Tish loved it: the barely out-of-control rush one felt when hurtling point-blank towards an asteroid surface...

And then they were through, just like a hundred times at SFAIS. Glancing around, Cass quickly took note of his surroundings. They'd passed through a shuttle door, off to once side of the larger yard door, which was used to admit starships and the like.

And starships there were, in an abundance that there should not have been. Somebody inside SF Command had to be funneling them resources and ships. Some were Starfleet vessels, a Galaxy, a Steamrunner, a pair of Defiants, and a Sovereign. Cass recalled a Sovereign-Class, the USS McKinley, that had dissapeared after being launched, during a shakedown cruise in the Typhon Expanse. This was probably where it had dissapeared to.

There were other ships too, some of which Cass didn't even recognize. Of the ones he did, there were the obvious designs. Klingon, Romulan, Cardassian. Others were more alien, only a few of which he recognized. Dominion, Karemma, and a lone Hydran vessel.

Then there was a decrepit Constitution II. Cass wasn't entirely sure what the purpose of that ship was, but he couldn't discount it's importance. In a place like this, everything was important.

"Quite a place you have here," Cass said, as they pulled in toward a docking port.

T'Shani merely *harrumphed* ungraciously as the Tokyo's autopilot guided the shuttle to a now-extending gangway. "I'll be sure to pass the compliment on to Tanner...or, rather: you can, yourself," she responded dryly. She got up from the pilot's seat and stretched her long body, which was clad in another one of her infamous *black* getups. It almost looked like the old Terran patent-leather...

Slowly the Tokyo floated into dock, right next to the Sovereign. Cassius craned his head to check the ship's registry, which was in the process of being removed. McKinley. What had become of her crew? At least 700 officers and crew, vanished. They couldn't all have been Red Division agents.

Henderson folded his arms, suspicions confirmed.

T'Shani decided to merely ignore him, as she picked up her two bags: one subcompact bag of clothing and personal items, and the other--quite large--bag which held her personal armor, chaka, and two hrisal swords...

Cassius followed her into the back to gather his things. He was wearing a uniform he hadn't worn in years. His own custom rig. Not as tight or form fitting, but close enough to it to keep from becoming tangled on anything, with plenty of pockets for extra tools, weapons and items that he would need, as well as the usual armor padding. He had decided not to bring any weapons (beyond those concealed in his kit) since Red Division could probably supply him with them. And he didn't want them to feel like he was coming prepped for war. After all, he'd worked against them in the past.

As they stepped out onto the gangplank, Cass cut T'Shani a sidelong look, "They must really like you." At the end of the gangway was a double hermetically sealed door with no visible seams. And it was big. Really big.

This time, Tish *did* let a small mirth-filled chuckle escape. "Really, you hewmons always take *everything* at...what do you call it?...yes...'face-value'. You should really be more...more... Andorian, Cassius," she said, laughing in her deep, breathy voice.

"Hewmons? Please tell me you're doing that for effect," Cass frowned at his new 'partner'. The more that he thought about it, Celias had been a very different person from T'Shani.

"Oh, don't worry. If they didn't want you here, you would have been atomized, by now." And with that, she picked up her bags, and walked straight toward the...

She was confident, and he had to give her that. Of course, confidence could get you killed. He knew that from unfortunate experience. As if *he* were any less capable than *her*. This time, however, it seemed to play out right.

She disappeared...*into* the seemingly-solid door...

That was odd. However, it was probably another hologram. Reaching out, he tried to place his hand through it. Solid. Now that was strange. Pulling back, he knocked on the solid duranium.

Strangely, he heard T'Shani's voice from the other *side* of the...the ~doors?~ ...whatever they were:

"Sorry, Cassius. The AI hasn't recongized you, yet. Just follow her instructions, and she'll let you in. I will meet you in Conference Room A, when you are finished with your..." did he detect a small laugh?..."*scans*," she emphasized, in a way that made Cassius terribly uncomfortable...

"Yeah, thanks for warning me, A'Akledorian," Cass frowned, then turned around to the familiar sound of a hologram materializing. Henderson stepped back initially. She'd appeared quite close to him. The woman wore a gold ship's services uniform, without rank insignia, as was fairly traditional with holograms.

"Welcome to Starbase 51. I am AMIE, the base's Automated Monitoring and Intelligence Entity. Please stand still while I perform the necessary scans," the AI informed him. Cassius straightened his back and waited for the inspection to be complete. At least she hadn't asked for a strip or cavity search. Not that he would have been surprised. It would have been typically overzealous of Red Division, an organization with better ways of finding such things out. A good intimidation method, though.

On the other hand, he wouldn't have necessarily minded being 'frisked' by the hologram. Red Division had picked a particularly beautiful model for their AI. Short blond hair and icy blue eyes framed a gentle face; all of which topped off a stunningly attractive body. It was rather disarming.

She reminded him of the couple of weeks he'd spent on the ATH (Advanced Tactical Hologram) Development Program at Starbase 171. The model they'd worked with, Petty Officer Phoebe St. Claire, had given the ATH a similar disarming look. Not that it mattered, since the ATH was designed to be a capable bridge officer rather than a full blown base AI.

"Very well, 'Commander Henderson, you've passed your DNA match and security scans. You may enter the base. Walk through the door," AMIE said and dissapeared. Cass nodded and followed the lead that T'Shani had set earlier, stepping through the wall.

*****

=^= 1715 Hours: Conference Room A, Starbase 51 =^=

Henderson stepped into the conference room. This place was vast. Irritatingly so. It seemed that little that they'd done in SFI's previous administration had damaged Red Division. Or perhaps people in high places now had arranged for the damage to be undone.

T'Shani was seated close to the head of the table, her usual confident, arrogant, self righteous... self. Beside her was a marine NCO who he didn't recognize. On the other side of the table in an SFI black kit very similar to the one he was wearing, was...

"Arthur," Cass hissed, in a manner that suggested to everyone that *this* man was not a friend.

"Cass," Lieutenant Commander Arthur Blackwelder replied, "You don't sound happy to see me. I was quite upset when I heard about Dalson Center, all those years ago. And they really cashiered you for that? Oh well, you seem to have found you way back in the door. I told you you'd see it my way."

'I've never seen it your way, and this isn't permanent," Cass replied. Commander Houseman had handled Ensign Blackwelder at the same time she'd handled him. Blackwelder and he had... philosophical issues. Such as the fact that Blackwelder was borderline S31/Red Division, if not an active member.

"Then this is about Brenna?" Blackwelder said, offering him a chair next to himself, "I'm surprised, Cass. I thought you understood that we accept risks. And after all, she is a traitor to the Federation. And you always served the Federation's highest ideals. Which she's pretty well betrayed by giving the Romulans the Hellfire."

"This is for me, for my own reasons," Henderson said, "Which may have been plain to you at one point, but are somewhat more ambiguous now. Things have changed, Arthur. At least I had the presence of mind to change with them. Your rank may have gone up, but you're the same manI knew when we worked for Brenna." He deliberately ignored the question of treason. He'd make his own conclusions about that.

Blackwelder just grinned. That having been done, they settled into a harsh, stuffy silence.

"One Big Happy Family, huh?" the diminutive blonde NCO spoke-up in her soft southern accent, while wheeling her chair over to the conference table, beside T'Shani.

"More or less," Cass said, nodding amusedly. Much as he really didn't like Art, at this point, they probaby had to work together... again... and that meant letting go of the past. Cass just hoped Art would be able to do the same.

Before Cassius could finish, an image, no...a person?...flashed into view. T'Shani recognized *her* immediately, from her previous encounters, not even a year ago...

"AMIE, when will we begin?" Tish asked, simply. The nice thing about AI's was that you didn't need to worry about hurting their feelings by being untowardly direct...refreshingly Andorian-like.

The AI *walked* around to the front of the table - a feat she could accomplish quite easily, seeing as her holoemitter was actually self-contained - and tapped the side of her head with her finger.

"In fifteen seconds, T'Shani," *she* replied, her voice oddly filling the entire room...

Sure enough, 15 seconds later, three officers who had obviously been in the armed forces for a long time entered the room. Leading them was General Tanner Houghton, the white haired, tough as nails officer whose face Cassius knew from old briefings. Following him was a marine corps colonel, no doubt T'Shani's Markay'di'n. Bringing up the rear was the Saurian admiral, Gelkenrenar. What role he was to play, Cassius didn't have a clue.

The other two 'Mystery-guest' officers seated themselves on either side of Houghton at the head of the table, while he remained standing as AMIE dimmed herself and stood off to the side.

"Please be seated," Houghton said in his gruff military clip. "We've got alot of things to address." With that, the conference room lights dimmed, as a holoprojection sprung to life in the center of the table.

Cassius, who had surprised himself by standing upon Houghton's entrance, sat down and leaned forward, perching on his seat and his elbows to see what the SFMC's most dangerous had to say.

Tanner moved to the other end of the table, now opposite the two yet-unspeaking guests. He surveyed everyone present: Blackwelder sitting somewhat erect in his chair, with Henderson perched-over in his. On the other side Ridgeway sat - lounged-out - with the One and Only T'Shani A'Akledorian sitting straight and alert, her antenna swiveling to follow the General. Briefly, he smiled, mentally reviewing the years they had served together. Quickly, he cleared his mind, as the lights finished dimming.

"As all of you are aware from your preliminary briefings, that the USS Hellfire - NX-98700 - has been stolen, complete with the Top-Secret Deep Shadow drive." The holoprojection rotated and morphed into a starchart, deep inside Rihannsu space.

"For a supplementary intelligence report, I turn the time over to Vice Admiral N'Gren Gelkenrenar of Starfleet Intelligence."

The Saurian admiral - who looked like a gangly, seven-foot, purplish lizard - quickly stood, motioning with his very long, three-fingered hand to the starchart suspended in front of the assembledge.

"Last week, the USS Tomahawk - NCC-60013," he began in his odd, hissing voice, as the Cheyenne-class ship's mission dossier flashed up beside the projection, "intercepted an encoded message, sent from the Romulan Stellar Navy's High Command, to the Imperial Warbird Tolara."

Cassius fidgeted with a stylus... definitely a bad family habit he'd picked up from his father. He quickly glanced over the Tomahawk's dossier, checking pertinent information, such as names of officer's that he might recognize, it's mission in the region, and any special equipment it would have onboard.

Norra pulled a face at the Starfleet Lieutenant-Commander sitting across from her. The guy just couldn't sit still! Truthfully, she could understand...this was a little boring. Or maybe, it was... something else on his mind?

The admiral kept one eye on the projection while quickly *blinking* the other in the opposite direction, towards Cass, as the human fidgeted.

Continuing on, "This message instructed the Tolara to *escort* an unidentified ship through the former Neutral-Zone..."

T'Shani involuntarily stiffened at the use of the word 'former'...

"...on a flight trajectory that - when backtraced - seemed to originate near the Beta Androlin system; where we are now."

The tall alien *looked* around again, before continuing. "Within hours, the USS Proxima - NCC-61952..." another dossier, this time of a Nebula-class starship, fitted with what looked like an extreme-range space 'telescope' platform...

Cassius repeated his earlier speed read of the Proxima's documentation, carefully going over the infomation on the telescope platform. He'd always thought the customizability of the Nebula to be a very useful thing in the fleet, even though he, as an intelligence, and later tactical, officer had little use for such a weak vessel.

"...was tasked to the tracking of the Tolara and it's 'mystery' ship, later confirmed as the missing Hellfire," he paused, as the projection zoomed-in on the north-by-northwest section of the displayed sector.

T'Shani arched her antenna slightly, noting how the Tolara and its consort had taken a long, jagged route - no doubt, to conceal their true heading - even in Rihannsu space. The route stopped at a blinking navpoint, marked in Standard as 'Rel'kessan Prime'...

Cass studied the map. Had the Proxima lost track of the Tolara and it's ill gotten gains? It was the only reason he could think of for the Romulans to stop so close to Federation space. If they'd wanted to conceal it, they would have taken the vessel to the far end of the empire, where not even the most powerful sensors and telescopes could find it.

"Here," he pointed with his extended mid-finger, "is where we have confirmed - through our own operative network - the Hellfire to reside. Any questions?" he stood back up to his full height, looking around the darkened room.

That, however, was strange. It didn't exactly make sense. Why would the Rihannsu stop there. It was quite possible that there was a base of some sort there, true, but they were still too close to the Federation.

"Admiral," Cass asked, watching Blackwelder choking at the bit. They'd come to similar conclusions, but he'd been a hair faster, "Why do you think the Rihannsu stopped their extraction at Rel'kessan? Is there something else in this particular system that we should know about, or have they simply slipped up?"

The Saurian blinked at Cass, then turned to the man on his right. "Colonel?"

Tish watched as her mentor - her friend - stood up, firmly pushing his chair behind him. Colonel Al'indal Markay'di'n - who bore a striking resemblance to Ra'ghoretti, the President of the UFP from 2288-2296 - was a sight to behold, as were most Deltan males. Unlike the females - who were nubile and hairless - the mature adult males had a long, flowing mane of pure-white hair, complimented by long, elegant whiskers and moustaches. A mature Deltan man *never* cut his whiskers.

She looked at him, again. It was he - Markay'di'n - that had initially talked her into joining the Marine Starfighter Corps. She would have to talk with him, after the meeting.

Cass switched his attention to the Colonel. So this was Markay'di'n, T'Shani's former commander. He watched his carefully controlled movements, extremely typical of the highly disciplined training regimens that the marine corps put its men through.

The Colonel gently cleared his throat, and faced Cass. "Mister Henderson, the Rihannsu stopped their extraction at Rel'kessan because of this..." a schematic of an odd, cylinder-shaped... starbase?... flashed on the screen...

"What's specially about this particular starbase?" Cassius asked. Obviously it wasn't a normal base, or the Romulans would have bypassed it for a safer location, farther into enemy territory.

"This base is actually located - how shall I put this? - *outside* normal space-time."

"Ah. Well, that explains it," Cass took in breath. That definately made things harder. It was bad enough that the Hellfire could do it, but now there was a base involved. For them to retrieve the technology, they'd need to insert onto the base as well.

"Shoo-dawg," Arroway said incredulously, under her breath, while shooting a glance over to Blackwelder, who was kneading his hands.

~Oh...shit~ Tish thought, as she caught Tanner's eye as he slowly nodded in affirmation. That meant that the intelligent reports *were* correct after all; the Romulans had used the Deep Shadow technology to access the stable 'border-world' that existed between 'real' space and the superspace fabric.

"Colonel," Tish spoke up, "last that I heard, the Romulans had been effective in only marginal entries into the interspatial realm. Are you suggesting that they've created a stable eleven-dee field, and that this base - and the Hellfire - are actually...in...interspace?" It was exactly what she *wasn't* hoping for.

"I think that's what he said," Cass whispered under his breath. He'd have to... *ask* Art to explain the concepts involved in the drive. Whatever else he might be, Blackwelder was a genius with technology. And *that* Cassius could respect.

Markay'di'n nodded, slowly, "Yes, T'Shani, that is exactly what I'm saying."

~Rhooz~ she cursed, in her mind.

Blackwelder wrung his hands one last time. This was worse than he'd thought, and he was suddenly very greatful he'd been away from the research station when it was attacked. ~Dirty greenbloods,~ he griped to himself, ~Not to mention thier traitor friend. This must be killing Cass.~ That gave him a certain satisfaction.

Turning back to the display, then to the assembledge, "However... military intellgence suggests that the Rihannsu forces have *not* yet been successful in adapting the technology to actually *transversing* inter- or superspace."

"And that's why they want it. To do with it what you did with it in the first place. Reverse engineering," Cass said out loud, "Which gives us a small window of opportunity to take the Hellfire technology back."

Markay'di'n nodded. "Exactly. And they aren't the only ones interested, Mister Henderson." He turned, again, to the screen.

"The Tholian Assembly, Gorn Hegemony, and Hydran Holdfast are all interested in this little piece of technology, as well.

~Tholians...just what I need: another fucking lumbering crystal!~ Tish groused: she had had enough run-ins with those *rocks*!

~Well, it seems the Hegemony hasn't been as quiet as we thought they were,~ Henderson said, though he was more curious about the Hydrans, who he didn't recognize by name.

Markay'di'n moved around to the other side of the table. "AMIE, please bring up the mission parameters."

"Acessing..." her holograph lit up again, as she tilted her head to the side... "Here, Colonel."

"Very well, your team - led by Miss A'Akledorian - consists of the following, presently-accounted for: Gunnery Sargeant Norra Ridgeway: Infiltration/Insertion Specialist..."

~*Insertion* specialist~ Tish couldn't help but chuckle to herself. ~Sounds like a title to a bad Orion porn flick.~ her antennas bobbed in amusement.

Cassius cast a sidelong glance at T'Shani, whose antennae were bobbing in a not so subtly amused manner. Aside from wondering what was so funny to her, he was also suddenly curious about the rest of their ability to read her 'expressions'.

"...Lieutenant Commander Arthur Blackwelder, Slipdrive Specialist..."

When Cass glanced over, Blackwelder was crossing his arms and looking smug, as if only he could be capable of understanding the drive. Of course, that was entirely possible, it occured to him.

"...Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson, Tactics Specialist and Intelligence Liason..."

Cassius raised a finger in the air, "Does that mean Commodore Illyanovitch has decided to allow my SFI commission to be reactivated?" This was where he could take advantage of this *mission*, as it were.

The Saurian admiral cleared his throat and leaned over, as Houghton eyed Cass with a steely gaze. "Yes...the Commodore has *granted* you special dispensation for the mission," he said, somewhat uncomfortably, for some reason.

"Very good. I'll do your dirty work for you on one condition. I retain my SFI commission when we're done here," Henderson said pointedly. Those records, that security clearance, and the weekly intelligence reports would be invaluable on the Galaxy, especially on the slim chance that he remained XO.

The admirals eyes shifted, refocused, and then fixed on the human to his side. Illyanovitch was going to have one of his *fits* over this. But N'Gren *did* outrank Pavel, however. "Very well. I will authorize it. But SFI will have to finalize it."

Markay'di'n waited until that little issue was over with, before continuing: "And AMIE, who will act as a direct link between the team and the mission commander...that would be me."

~Great...babysat by slonkin' AI!~ Tish groused.

"The team will insert here..." a navpoint marker flashed in the holoprojection, "...and either recover or destroy the Hellfire; the *former* being the preferable of the two, Ladies and Gentlemen," Markay'di'n added. "You will be given further intelligence and briefings individually by AMIE, after which, I suggest you all have a good night's rest, before departing tomorrow morning." He looked around the room. "Anything further?"

Cass remained silent. He was satisfied, for now.

"Very well. Team dismissed. Report to docking bay Four at 0600, tomorrow. Good night."

They filed out of the room. As soon as they were in the hallway, Blackwelder caught Cass' arm. "I'm surprised at you, Cass. You never seemed the mercenary type to me. It's actually rather impressive. You drove a hard bargain in there with Gelkenrenar."

Cass grinned, a thin line smile, "I don't work for my enemies for free."

Blackwelder looked at him for a moment, not understanding. "So, just like old times?"

"Just like old times. Which means we go down to whatever suffices for a bar on this rock and get something to drink. Then you try to explain the technology for me. I may not be team leader right now, but I need to know anyway," Cass replied.

Art Blackwelder, as much as he didn't like Henderson, nodded, "Then let's go."

***TO BE CONTINUED***

"Corgan is an Arsehole!"

Lt. Commander James Corgan,
Chief Security Officer

When he wasn't thinking of the precarious balance his relationships were thrust into, James kept himself knee deep in work. Where once he expressed his problems with a guitar and an excess of gusto, he now launched himself into futile searches, security improvement ideas, skill upgrades and regular security tasks with the same gusto as his creative endeavors.

It all amounted to the same James Corgan, anyways.

Overworked, overstressed, worried about every problem that heaped on his shoulders like so many slabs of plascrete weights. At least his musical endeavors provided a vent, an outlet to express his feelings while providing much needed escapism.

Work was just another stressor, not escape, but a constant bolt away from whatever chased him.

Today, it was a three prong assault that made him dart for the paperwork. First came the decision to choose between one woman or the other so many months ago. And still he felt the repercussions. One woman, the legendary ice queen Rebecca Von Ernst, was his final choice. And as fate would have it, she disappeared without a trace to follow. BUPERS was less than co-operative, citing some sort of top secret classification that was well beyond James Corgan's security clearance, as well as giving him the rhetoric about confidentiality and the right to privacy. Not even convincing the officer at BUPERS that it was for a mysterious disappearance worked. Her whereabouts were shrouded in mystery, and it was emphasized that he didn't want to know and shouldn't try to find out. It never halted Corgan's work though. His searches and reports brought in information from every reach in the Federation, looking for traces of a red headed commander in every newly assigned ship, roster change, and outpost. Even with the search parameters narrowed, it was too much information.

It didn't halt the second assault, which was very close to the home front. One never could hide anything from a Betazoid, especially an emotionally insecure one with a crush on him. Rose wasn't thrilled to hear about James' choice, and thrilled less with his reasoning as to why they should not get together. Fact was, James knew she was a consolation prize, and loathed to treat her as such. She was more valued as a friend than a lover. If only she could agree.

And the third, a voracious sexual predator working as Ambassador Omar's diplomatic attache. Atole Tekri had the adventurousness and bold confidence the other two women lacked. It was within a narrow margin that he escaped a one night stand with her, and his head still smarted from the shared bottle of absinthe last night. She was exciting, the type of female that kept James wary, sharp and smart. Exotic, being Rihannsu, and voluptuous. It was any wonder he kept his hands off himself, but knowing in advance that she was a spy and an assassin sobered up a hormone high quickly. Sadder still, he acknowledged that there was a strong lust between them, baser instincts that demanded dirty things an Orion slave girl would dare not contemplate.

~"God's in his heaven. All's well in the world... my ass."~ Thought James as he butchered Robert Blake's famous quote.

If only his women problems would go away. Before, he couldn't find a date because of an old reputation that dogged him, the reputation for being a mental case due to too many battlefield traumas. It also didn't help that he believed there was no such thing as love (a war full of hate tended to bring that out in him). In the span of his time on the Galaxy, he has morphed from a manic depressive, suicidal, reckless rookie whom valued his life to as much as a tarnished latinum chit and allowed nothing else in, into a wisened leader whom passionately defended his charges.

Somehow in all this, he also managed to say the right things to one too many women.

~"Why can't they just f**k off?"~ Sighed the chief, as he dived back into his work.

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

Outside Corgan's office:

Little beknownst to James, a forth front was about to open up in his embattled life.

"Did you and the boys talk to Lieutenant Commander MacAllen?" Lieutenant Shelly O'Rourke, the unofficial ringleader of an exclusive group of security officers, questioned her comrade, the decadent and slack adept Denobulan, Lieutenant jg. E'xch.

"Yes, we indeed had a talk with Missus MacA." E'xch munched on a Betazoid chocolate chip cookie, the foil crunching in his fingers, "And it appears that she is still depressed about the rejection. Honestly, what is everyone worried about? We Denobulans are polygamous. I don't see why such relationships cannot be adapted to Terran society. Let him be."

"We're not Denobulans." O'Rourke pointed out. "It's monogamous with us humans, E'xch. You have to realize that."

"And what about Betazoids?" E'xch asked.

Lieutenant jg. T'lan, the Security office's Vulcan, interjected. "Betazoids are emotional, even by Terran standards. Though they have a tendancy to feel more passionate about their relationships with other sentient beings and treat intimate relationships with more of a liberal attitude, they too believe in a monogamous relationship."

This was it for the security group. Deaths whittled their numbers down. Lieutenant jg. Marsh barely showed up with the core group anymore. The tragedies and loss served to strengthen and mature the group further, into a cohesive threesome that could do anything set before them. It was mostly due to Lieutenant Commander Corgan, whom treated these three officers not like subordinates, but like comrades, putting them all on equal ground. He listened to their suggestions (in some cases, no matter how stupid), and he gave them input. The working relationship was solid, to the point where he could talk to the three about anything bothering them.

It was their turn to return the favor.

"I don't like how this is turning out. You know the boss is in trouble when he coops himself in the office." O'Rourke pointed to the closed office door, "And with the rumours about Rose, I'm not surprised."

"Oh, Rose said James wanted Rebecca. Isn't that strange?" E'xch muttered through a mouthful of cookie.

"Oh really! E'xch, we all knew that. James has been hard up for Rebecca since we first came here." O'Rourke growled, "And then Rose came in, and then I heard of some woman in the computer core who was saved by him. And then there was the rumour of a tryst with an Andorian ambassador's assistant, and that Klingon Princess, and the fights between himself and Lieutenant Murphy makes you swear they're married already!"

"Not to mention Sub-Centurion Tekri."

Caught off guard, E'xch and O'Rourke turned to T'lan for clarification.

"How did you hear about that?" O'Rourke asked.

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

Ten Forward: Yesterday Night

Corgan waited for one hour, five minutes, seventeen second, at her last count, before another guest arrived. Unmistakably bearing Vulcan lineage, but unlike T'lan she possessed the forehead ridges of a Rihannsu. T'lan recognized Atole Tekri, being already briefed by Corgan and Lieutenant D'Tinya about the threat and assigned to a monitoring team.

Why did James choose such an illogical action? "Hey, it's your turn." Announced Lieutenant jg. Perkins, the assistant chief of astrophysics.

T'lan scooped up a twenty sided dice in her palm, and announched her action as deadpanned as possible. “Rotunda the Barbarian Queen bellows out a warcry, demanding that her axe be satiated with the blood of hundreds of slain orcs."

Her dice rolled a natural twenty. Rotunda was about to get her wish.

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

"I was... occupied." T'lan unemotionally confessed.

Her statement raised E'xch's eyebrows to many dirty possibilities. O'Rourke shook her head. "No need to give me details."

"I could give you details... about Tekri and the boss, that is." E'xch chuckled.

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

Outside Tekri's quarters:

E'xch was happy that his holocamera was with him at the time. He never knew when something this interesting would come up.

Relationships were always an interest to Denobulans, moreso for this particular one. Interspecies relationships, which were somewhat uncommon in the Federation, with their more subtle cultural nuances, was of a particular interest.

But when a Romulan attache and a Terran Security chief were making out like teenagers after their sweet sixteen, It was holocamera interesting.

"All for me!" E'xch grinned like the devil, snapping a shot from a safe distance.

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

"Ummmm... lets just say that they were very interested in each other." E'xch leered.

It was T'lan and O'Rourke's turn to look at E'xch with disdain.

"I thought it was quite obvious by Atole Tekri's enlargening pupils and her constant flirting, and adding the boss's discomfort and arousal around her." T'lan pointed out in a way only a Vulcan and their brutally honest logic could provide.

"I don't want to know." Shelly O'Rourke huffed, "But it's becoming clear that our boss is more of a ladies man than we thought. I wonder, does he realize what he's doing?"

"If you mean, does Lieutenant Commander Corgan know that he is the most eligible bachelor on the ship, I would have to say no." E'xch surmised, "He is quite unaware. Fact is, our boss hasn't been active in the dating pool on this ship. It seems that love has a way of coming to him."

"How... illogical. Is this what humans call luck?" T'lan asked.

"Yes." O'Rourke answered, "But it goes both ways. He's breaking hearts without realizing it. Somebody has to tell him. Come on, we're going in."

**********

Back at Corgan's Office:

The paperwork could wait for a little while longer. Corgan's office bell was ringing impatiently.

"Come in." James responded, distracted.

The trio of T'lan, O'Rourke and E'xch came in a line, all serious faced and ready for discussion.

"Oh... f**k. Why do I get the feeling that you people are here to inconvenience me?" James Corgan paused momentarily to jot down another note.

"We need to talk, Sir." O'Rourke came up to the desk, with T'lan and E'xch at her flanks to create a stone faced, impenetrable wall.

Corgan put down his PADD, for his intuition told him he would need his full attention. "No sh*t O'Rourke. I told you people not to make a habit of interrupting my work when I lock myself up in the office. So make it quick and make sure it's very important."

"We heard about you and Missus MacA."

James turned stone cold, and his heart sank to his belly. "What did you hear?"

E'xch added, "She said, and I say this without the amount of distress and heartbreak she felt, that you choose Commander Von Ernst over her. I must say that she is very torn up over this and I fear that a breakdown is imminent."

"She already broke down!" Corgan stated with a slam to the desk, "She damn nearly cut her own wrists when I told her!"

"What!?! And you didn't tell us?!" O'Rourke snapped in surprise.

"Well..." Sputtered James, "What the hell am I supposed to do?! Fact is, I made a choice. What the hell am I supposed to do to her, take her knowing she was the second choice?! Let her know that I wanted to be with someone else and be with her anyways with that hanging over our heads? Don't you have any clue how that would make anyone feel?"

"Like someone was a compromise?" T'lan reasoned, "However, you should have done something about Lieutenant Commander MacAllen's distress."

Turning a bright red, Corgan snarled, "Alright... how do you propose I try to handle someone who's visibly upset about me rejecting her? I can't go near her without her breaking out into hysterics. I mean... how can I help her without getting her even more upset?"

"For starters, you could tell the counselors!" O'Rourke said.

His pause was awkwardly long. Admittedly, James nodded, "I guess I could contact Counsellor Dallas. She would know what to do, since she's known Rose longer than I have. But look. I do feel bad for her, and it's my fault that she's upset. But it would be worse for her if I caved in and let her have what she wanted. I couldn't love her like she wanted, so I would just make her miserable instead. I don't want to do that to her, ok? So sorry if that has got you all worried, but now you understand my side? Hell, put mine and hers together, and you might get a more accurate picture out of it. Who knows? I sure as f**k don't."

The look of Corgan's gray death eyes on the faces of his subordinates said what he a moment later put to words. "That's all. Unless you have any more to say?"

"We do." E'xch stuttered, as if he was beating around the bush. "You see Sir, we noticed that it has been months since you have talked to Missus MacA, and I know that you humans take a few months to adjust to different relationships. Why, we Denobulans are a social race, and we understand the need to be close to others as much, if not moreso, than many other races. Therefore..."

"For god sakes E'xch." James impatiently gasped, "Get over with it! What are you trying to say?"

"Sir... I saw you with Sub-Centurion Tekri last night."

It was the second time in the meeting that James turned red, then the first time that he turned white.

E'xch continued with his explanation, "Sir, we know that you have been close to Tekri last night. Now, I'm not judging, since this is the 24th century and all, but have to considered how much a relationship with Sub-Centurion Tekri will affect your personal life? Especially the views of Missus MacA, whom already thinks you have chosen Rebecca? Surely sure, she'll only see that you are cheating with your affections and breaking hearts in the process, including hers! Now how are you going to deal with that?"

"Sir, how is she going to deal with that?" O'Rourke added.

His heart already sank to his stomach, now it was making a journey to Corgan's bowels. His mind screamed red alert, and saw that a emotionally weakened woman was not going to stand yet another heartbreak. This was the kind of news that would kill her, emotionally, then physically if she ever fell that far into depression.

If only they knew the bed of knives he was balanced on. Tekri, someone else's life (and Tekri's target), the instinctual urges between the Romulan attaché and himself, the edgy balance where everything was kept, and if James made one false move, every piece would fall apart. Lives were on the line, his, Rose's, Tekri's her target, everyone that he knew. The realization hit him. If he failed, everyone he knew would be affected, and it was all by his choice.

He already failed. He chose Rebecca. He choose to get closer to Tekri for the sake of saving a life, forgetting that it would set another's over the edge.

And his subordinates gave him the warning.

"Sh*t." James whispered.

"Sh*t, though inaccurate, is surprisingly apt, if my memory of the use of this word is accurate." T'lan stonily stated. "Your relationship with Sub-Centurion Tekri lacked foresight."

"You're damn rights I'm in sh*t, T'lan. Listen, none of this leaves the office. I wish I could tell you guys everything, but the fact is, I have to keep seeing Madam Tekri. If you guys had any idea what was really going on, you all would understand. But I can't tell you a damn thing. There's too much at stake to tell you otherwise. I just wish I thought of Rose when I first decided to take on this whole situation. But the fact is that she's going to get worse, and it's all my fault, and I had to do it." He looked frightfully apologetic while he was trying to piece together the reasons without giving what he knew about Tekri away. "Just believe me, I'm doing everything for the right reason, but she won't understand since I can't tell her without giving away some serious stuff. I'll tell Counselor Dallas right away. And look..."

"Yes?? O'Rourke asked.

"I look like a total jerk going for Tekri, and Rose is going to paint the most terrible picture about me because of it, though she's done enough to do so as is. The rest of the ship's going to think I'm an arsehole because of this. When they piece the relationship between me and Tekri, and Rebecca and Rose, they'll think that I'm a male sl*t. Fact is, I can't stop that. So please, believe me when I say that I'm not trying to play with these women. Please."

The security trio paused to consider what James said (which was quite a mouthful in its confusion, but clear enough to be understood).

"We will comply, Sir. You appear to be honest in your intent, though others may not see it." T'lan finished.

"Good. You guys know a Vulcan doesn't lie. Take her word for it if you can't take mine." James rushed the others out the door, "I have to contact the counselor. Get going. And for god sakes, if you hear gossip, tell me."

"Aye sir."

Before O'Rourke could finish up, James had rushed his subordinates out the door. This left three officers outside, with bewildered looks on his faces.

"Are you telling the truth T'lan?" E'xch ventured to ask.

With serenity that only a Vulcan could pull off, she answered, "As much as I could tell you, Lieutenants."

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"Another Life Changing Event"

Ethan gave a nod to Jiiles as they came to the last stop. Ethan's quarters. Jiiles continued strolling down the corridor as Ethan punched in his security code in the wall panel. Brushing his dark hair, he watched as the doors slid open, allowing him to move into his quarters.

"Computer, lights." he ordered.

The lights powered up and shone through the orange filters. The glow reminded Ethan of the sun setting. Seemed to fit the mood.

Ethan moved over to the couch and threw his duty jacket over the arm. Taking off his rank pips, he sighed. He placed them on to the table in the middle of the room and looked out of the window. He could see his own reflection. It seemed some personal duties had been neglected over the last few days. He had a slight beard growing and it looked like it was time to get his hair cut. He'd been far too busy over the last few days with work in Engineering to even notice himself, or anyone else for that matter.

"You have an incoming transmission." the computer reported, it's voice dull.

The Chief strolled over to his desk and slid the computer console over to the center. Pushing a button, he activated the screen and looked at the darkness before him. Then a small light appeared and a woman came into view. She had long wet hair that covered most of her face. He finished sliding off the top of his uniform revealing a black vest.

"Long time no see, Ethan." she said in a low voice.

"Been a while." Ethan replied, his voice also low with no enthusiasm. He could remember exactly how long it had been since he'd seen the "demon", it wasn't like he was a Vulcan, but he knew it was a long time ago. many years. She had aged well, or rather he guessed seeing as most of her face was shrouded in shadows and her own hair.

"I know the rules, but this is important."

Ethan moved to terminate the connection, but an outburst from the woman stopped him.

"It's about your family." she explained.

For a few moments, Ethan remained silent, a burning sensation itching away at his chest. "Sandra..." Ethan started.

"It's about Lon. More or less."

Ethan sighed again. The day had not been to bad, but this was just what was needed to turn it into another crap one. "He's dead!" he almost spat.

"That's the less part." Sandra replied.

Suder leaned in a little closer towards the screen. It really did sound like Sandra, but he still couldn't make her out that well. It looked like wherever she was, it was raining hard. Her clothes, like her hair were drenched. Listening carefully, he could hear the rain in the background.

"It's about your niece, Suder!" she blurted out.

If Ethan had been drinking, he would have spat it all out over the screen. Lucky for him, he got the chance to just sit there. It was impossible though, or was it?

"What?" he whispered.

"A while before Lon disappeared, we gave birth to what I think is the best thing in our lives. Our daughter." Sandra explained. "Of course, based on our situation, it was best that no one knew. We went into hiding for a while, but Lon had to go back for one more mission..."

Ethan could tell that she was crying a little, or at least had been. It was obvious in her croaky voice. "And that's when he went missing." he concluded. "I've heard this bed-time story."

"That's right." Sandra agreed. "I managed to escape before the Dominion slaughtered the Maquis. And now I need help. She's in trouble."

Ethan was now convinced that she was telling the truth. Years ago she had vowed never to speak to Ethan again. Not that it was a big loss, only she took his brother away from him. That was the problem.

"Trouble?" he asked, pretending to be only a little interested.

"Yeah, I need you to take care of her for a while. Just a few days so I can sort some things out."

"Let me guess. Someone's out after her, and you're going out to stop them first?"

Sandra froze and brushed some hair away from her face. Her eyes were in fact red. She looked tired. "Pretty much. You can turn away if you want, but you know as well as I do that this isn't the life for her. For any child."

"But it was your choice to bring her into that world."

"Look, if there was anyone else left in your family, then I would have gone to them, but there isn't." Sandra spat back. "So either help me out... or don't. But could live with yourself if she died and you knew it could have been different if you helped?"

"You don't know what I have to live with." Suder remarked. "But I'll help because it's her." Ethan replied.

"Fine, but as I said, it'll only be for a few days. I'll be wanting my daughter back, try not to get too attached. I'll be in touch."

The screen went blank. Ethan frowned and rubbed his chin. The friction against his slight beard made a soothing sound, like a match being struck. He glanced to the right and looked at the small, framed picture on his desk. "What would you do?" he asked with a chuckle. Seeing the picture made him want to sleep. Life seemed better in his dream world. Some people made life easier, Michael, Karyn...... but then some people made it harder.

He kicked his boots off and threw them over towards the door. Scratching his left arm, he made his way towards the bedroom. Seemed he looked forward to sleep more than he did anything else. But then things always seemed simpler in his dreams, more peaceful. When he was awake, he felt a coldness, a darkness, like the world was going to end. The only downfall was that it didn't...

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"Making a Change"

It was a normal and bright day. With bright lights on all over the ship, how could it be anything but bright? Still, it all seemed slightly different. Everything normally seemed so distant. But today for some reason, everything seemed to be coming together as much as they were falling apart. Ethan felt like he was still sleeping. Which was probably it!

The doors to his quarters opened and he drifted out of them. Strolling down the corridor, he gave a nod to several of the passing officers. Humming a little tune as he walked, he finally found the turbolift and stepped inside.

His companion for the morning was a junior officer he wasn't too familiar with. Obviously a new recruit, although he could have been on the ship for weeks, even months and Ethan probably wouldn't have noticed. Being too wrapped up in his own issues had gone on long enough. And what better way to move on than to keep busy...

"You're the Chief right?" the younger male asked.

"That's what they say." Ethan replied.

"There's several problems with my computer terminal, would someone be able to take a look at it, maybe today?"

Ethan continued looking at the door and straightened his uniform as the doors slid open. "Sure, I'll get someone out today, it'll be fixed by the end of the day." He strolled out of the turbolift and made his way down the corridor. Seeing another officer down the hall way heading his way, he gave a nod.

"By the way, someone will be up to take a look at your shower later." he stated.

"That's great!" the Benzite woman replied. "I think my replicators a little off too!"

"No worries. I'll add it to the list." he said with a smile.

The Benzite frowned a little, confused by Ethan's sudden change of attitude. Nonetheless, she continued on her stroll and walked passed Suder as he reached Sickbay. Strolling in, he looked at one of the officers on duty and took a stroll around a biobed and headed for the door again.

"I'll be up later to run another diagnostic on Sickbay systems and to upgrade anything that needs updating." With that, he left and jumped into the nearest turbolift.

The doors slid open and he strolled out. Engineering seemed to be alive with a certain buzz. People talking, the occasional laugh, just people working. It was different. He gave a nod, smile and wink to various officers as he passed by and looked at Ella.

"Hey Ace," he greeted, "let's get a start on that diagnostic of the core computer today. And I think we should probably check the injectors as well, had a dream about them last night, could be a premonition." He was already on his way to his office but changed course and headed for the Master Systems Display console. Picking up a handful of data padds from it, he glanced at the warp core and saw Tom standing near by.

"You're in a good mood." he commented.

"Nope, just busy." Ethan replied looking at the first data padd. "What's on your mind?"

"Jiiles wanted a rematch later, was wondering if you were up for it?"

"I'll be there at seven." Ethan replied walking passed him.

"All right, I'll let him know."

"Good, oh, and get started on testing the field strengths in the shuttle bay and brig will you, want them finished by this afternoon." Ethan said with a nod.

"Chief!" Sara called out.

Suder turned on his heels and looked at the younger Engineer.

"I finished that report you asked for a couple of days ago."

He took another data padd off her and added it to the pile. "Great, oh do me a favor and get me everyone's files will you. And then grab me their files from the last few years."

"No worries." she replied.

"Great." Ethan added as he finally made it to his office. Placing the pile of data padds on to his desk, he collapsed into his chair and sighed heavily. "Urrg." he grunted as he looked at the roster for the day on his terminal. It was going to be a hectic day. ""Takes more muscles and energy to frown than it does to smile my ass!" he commented. Was anything ever going to get better? Yeah, just give it a decade or two, then he'd be peachy. That or an old man living in the past. ~Oh my god.... I'm already there~ he thought.... ~An old man living in the past!~ He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ok." he said out loud. "Just breath, take a moment, and breath......"

"Corgan is an Arsehole: The Sequel"

By various male staff of the USS Galaxy security force

And Lieutenant Commander Rose Isis MacAllen

Location: Rose's Quarters

Men in gold suits impatiently waited outside Commander MacAllen's quarters. A half dozen of them. Unarmed,relaxed,contrary to their duty attitude during the day. All of them waited,like worried children, waiting for someone to come out to play.

"Ring the bell already." Hissed an ensign fromtheback. The leader of the pack was E'xch, a Denobulan male with a full Lieutenant's rank, snapped back at his younger counterpart.

"Be silent! We haven't seen Missus MacA in a long time.For all we know, she could be ill with... a Betazoid flu."

"I hear it's that time of the month." Another glibly commented."And if I hear any more stupid comments like that,i'm going to turn you all away and we'll never see Missus MacA again.Now behave. I'm going to ring the bell, and we're all going to say 'Hi,Missus MacA' to cheer her up. Then i'll take care of the rest. Ok?"

Silence and nods was the group's reponse, until the same smart a lecky ensign said, "I heard Betazoid periods are worse than humans."

"Someone get that revolting dolt out of here..."E'xch ordered. Two other ensigns, both unimpressed by the dolt'srude comments, was shoved into the turbolift while it was automatically programmed to eject into the waste recycling vats.

E'xch ignored the wholescene,and was the only brave soul willing toring the bell.

Rose was trying to find another bottle of red wine when she heared the doorbell rung, she looked back towards her sleeping children and opened the door. She was shocked to an diffrent various of male staff from the security force behind the door.

"Hey guys what's up?" she said trying to smile back but it was abit hurtful because James is their chief.

"Hi Missus MacA!" Called out the security officers in unison, trying to be as cheerful and chipper as possible.

Skeptical faces worried about the smell of red wine on her breath, and hoped it was synthaholic.

"Missus MacA." E'xch wasthebravest, being the first to extend his greetings in the politest for impossible,"We have not seen you in security in over a week. Usually,you are quite prompt about your visits. Because of this, some of the males staff...including us, were worried about your well being. Therefore,we decided to visit and see if you were doing well." "So..." Ensign Tabor peeped, "Is everything ok, MissusMacA?"

"I guess James didn' tell you...please sit down and down worry the wine is synthaholic." Rose replied while covering herself up with an red silk rode from her Betaziod night gown.

"Huh?" E'xch raised a brow in skepticism. Most of the men were confused, but accepted her offer to come in anyways.

"James made his choice, he choose Rebecca over me." said the young Betazoid with an sad and pale look on her face, it still hurts her heart about what James did to her.

"WHAT?!" Each man perked up, now all too clear on what was going on. And though they didn't need to say so, their admiration for Ms.MacAllen flew them into one conclusion.

"What a idiot." E'xch grumbled.

"But..." Ensign Michels stuttered, "She was the...IceQueen!"

"Why would go for a skinny little twig like her?"Ensign Tabor asked.

"So you know why I haven't been coming around because, each time I look at James it hurts my heart like he did when he said Rebecca's name to me. Me, I'm just an nobody, just something men can step on."

"Missus MacA." E'xch declared, "You're someone to us!" "YEAH!" The other ensigns piped in unison.

A collection of cross armed, straight lipped security officers solidified their point. "You're the only high ranking officer outside security that visits us.... without breaking the law."

"YEAH!" "You bring us cookies... nobody brings us cookies."

"YEAH!"

"And you keep saying hi to us when people outside our department look down on us and consider us nothing more than pack of braindead meattrucks!" "YEAH!"

"In otherwords, you give us respect and kindness. And if someone is going to walk all over you for that, we're going to have a word with that person. Even if... IT'S OUR BOSS!!!"

"YEAH!!! Whoo!"

"But it still hurts me guys, you know that. I though James was in love with me and we would fall in love and marry...have an father for my children but now, I don't know what I going to do. I even try to kill myself during my New Year Hoilday on Betazed. But I couldn't go though with it." replied Rose while sitting down on the couch looking out into the stars feeling depressed and alone.

The ensigns and the Lieutenant looked back at her,with uneasy faces.

E'xch boldly spoke what the others were thinking, butwere too afraid to say. "Missus MacA, we would like to help. Name it, and we'll do it."

"Why are you here, I mean I like your company and all but you know how James will be if he finds out youguys are here I guess."

"Missus MacA... we're worried, that's all. You haven't been around for a long time, and even during that time we've seen youaround. You don't look the same, like you have a black cloud over your head. I mean, I've seen rejection, and being sociable myself, I have been rejected many times. But not once have I seen someone take a rejection this hard."

The ensigns nodded in agreement. E'xch finished, "Talk to the counselors about it. You can talk to us about it if you want, but I don't know what a pack of meat trucks like ourselves can do to heal your broken heart, except maybe... some cheering up... or perhaps making fools of ourselves for your amusement. We're quite good at that, as you've seen when you visited the security office." E'xch chuckled in reference to the usual floppish behavior whenever a beautiful female entered their office.

"So, you guys still love me?"

"We sure do, Missus MacA, or else we wouldn't be talking to you like this."

The young woman got up and bring out some Betazoid chocolate chip cookies for the young men from an gold tin box. E'xch waved the gift off, "You're too kind, Missus MacA, but we cannot accept your.."

"We love to try some cookies, Missus MacA!" Ensign Tabor elbowed the Denobulan Lieutenant sharply, while wearing a happy grin.

"You guys are so handsome and sweet. I will try and come around more after James...well you know." Rose replied while letting the guys sit back down on the couch.

"Alright! Missus MacA's coming back!" One of the ensigns excitedly yelled. "Missus MacA." Sighed the Denobulan voice of reason, "We won't tell James that we talked to you. However, I already heard through the rumour mill that you were rejected."

"Hey! Why were you holding out on us E'xch!?" Tabor scolded. E'xch brushed off the Ensign's comments, "But from the sounds of it, it looks like he needs a talk. Are you sure you don't want us to... talk some sense into him?"

"You can try but I don't know it going to work or not."

"Alright then..." E'xch got out of his seat, "We'll keep you appraised. Thanks for the cookies."

"Yeah, they were great Missus MacA!" An ensign added, speaking through a mouthful of chocolate chip.

"And we'll let you know if anything changes with our boss, ok?"

"Well do boys."

"Well, we have to go. Remember what we said to you. We care for your well being, or else we wouldn't be here. See you!"

"Grassroots"

Starring: Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant, JG Ammanalyn Lywhyn,
Assistant Chief Counselor

Lieutenant Janelle Reynolds,
Chief Medical Officer

***

Deck 1
Ready Room

***

"I understand, Ambassador-General."

Daren M'Kantu closed the transmission after the 7 second delay had returned his acknowledgment. Being so far out on the fringe, subspace transmissions could only be relayed through waypoints, slowing down the signal slightly as it was encoded, recoded, and cycled through various packet protocols as it made its long way through to endpoint. If it weren't for the amplifiers at Starbase 212, the signal would have taken hours instead of minutes. The delay was acceptable.

Upon closure of the rapport with Ambassador-General Mol, Daren presently signaled the Medical offices.

"Lieutenant Reynolds, could you report to my Ready Room immediately?"

Reynolds sighed, [On my way]

"Thank you." Again, he tipped the signal feed.

"Lieutenant Lywhyn, could you report to my Ready Room immediately?" Commander Dallas had personal issues with Legate Curran; there would be no way of determining her objectivity in this issue.

[Uhm... I'm -- I'm on my way, Captain,] Lywhyn replied.

He nodded as the transmission was terminated from the Daedryn's end. He rose from his chair and paced to the sofa where he lowered himself into an end and pondered the decision he would have to make.

With Tampatiaen faithfully at her side, the small Daedryn girl paused at the Captain's readyroom, then cautiously pressed the call button, just as Janelle Reynolds approached, likely summoned as well. Ammanalyn gave the other woman a meek smile before the Captain called them to enter. Ammanalyn ushered Janelle in ahead of her and Tampatiaen shifted from leopard to ermine shape and crawled up her pantleg as she moved through the doorway.

Dr. Reynolds stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged. She wondered what was going on since it wasn't everyday she gets called in by the Captain.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss." Janelle and Ammanalyn hesitated. They were unused to being in the Captain's presence, and even less so in this most auspicious behavior.

"I'll do my best. May I ask why?" She felt as if she walked in the middle of a movie.

"Captain," Ammanalyn stated, softly, as she sat down on the sofa. "We don't usually get called, what is... what is this about?"

"I am in need of your evaluations and review of Legate Curran."

Ammanalyn blinked and glanced at the doctor as Tampatiaen curled around his person's neck, rubbing his head up and down, soft fur brushing comfortingly over her neck. Absently, she brushed a hand up to him, fingers petting him gently.

Daren took a deep breath, rose and paced to the aquarium, graced with a luminous species of clownfish. The tank was lively with colour and activity.

"The Legate has been showing signs of increased irritability around the senior staff of late. Moreso than his usual demeanour. I've requested he be relived of this mission to undergo psychological treatment. His superiors have steadfastly denied a transfer entirely, as well as long-term treatment. They would rather defer that to our Counseling staff to determine." He tapped the glass as a tomato clownfish came close. It darted away.

Upon noticing this, Tampatiaen lifted his head, looking toward the fish, VERY interested in it. He was constantly impressed by normal animals and always wanted to investigate, particularly if they came from earth: they were so similar to those from their homeplanet, yet so different at the same time. Mouth opened, he uttered a shaking, low-pitch cooing noise as one might expected from a small bird. He began to snake down Ammanalyn's shirt so as he could better move toward the fish, but she grasped hold of him. "Tam," she whispered very softly, "no."

"One problem we have here is Counselor Dallas is in no condition to determine the Legate's career options on this ship. The other is that I require both the Chief Medical Officer's and Chief Counselor's recommendations on transfer to better facilities." He opened a panel to the right of the tank to retrieve a small cylinder, of which he uncapped and sprinkled a pinch of particles into the aquarium. The fish bolted for the surface to devour the treat.

"Since Counselor Dallas has not been relieved, nor can be counted on to deliver an objective analysis, the Legate cannot be removed from this ship. He can be relieved of this mission based on your evaluations in the meantime. I would ask for that recommendation."

"I've read through his files, of course, Captain," Ammanalyn said, speaking up first, struggling a little to keep Tampatiaen under control. He kept threatening to shift into a large form, desperately wanting to examine the Captain's fish. "And I agree that there is... something... there. However, as much as I would like to help you out on this, I cannot in good conscience recommend that someone be relieved without first speaking to them personally."

Dr. Reynolds debated. She hadn't given him an examination to see if it wasn't something medical but if the Captain deemed him unfit, she didn't have a problem with it.

She spoke up, "I will back you up Captain but on one condition...that I get to examine him once he is relieved."

"Of course, Counselor, Doctor. So it shall be."

"Checkmate"

Starring:
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer (authorized)

Commander Cassius Henderson,
Executive Officer (authorized)

Lieutenant, JG Ammanalyn Lywhyn,
Assistant Chief Counselor

Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Appearance by:
Lieutenant Janelle Reynolds,
Chief Medical Officer (unauthorized)

"Legate Curran to the Captain's Ready Room immediately."

Janelle Reynolds, having had a limited experience with the Legate earlier in the week, had signed off on the recommendation due to that errant run-in of theirs. Ammannalyn however, had elected to stay for further analysis of the Kelvan as she hadn't formally met with him as yet and refused to sign off on anything until then.

Daren had then called in Commander Henderson and informed him of the decision to relieve the Legate from active duty this mission pending Lt. Lywhyn's evaluation.

"He isn't going to like this one bit, Captain. We're military relieving a civilian from active duty."

"I will deal with the situation as it stands, Commander. You may remain as witness to the proceeding."

"Aye, sir." Cassius was still reeling from the dressing down given him by the Captain upon his late arrival and check-in with him 48 hours earlier. He saw in M'Kantu's eyes the determination of a path with no turning back on. It simply wasn't an option. Indignation and fixation emanated from those dark eyes. Henderson, felt a pang of regret for the Legate. He wasn't on friendly terms with the Kelvan, but an uneasy ally in the internal Hawk/Dove threat the Federation faced since the end of the Dominion War.

The Hawks pushed for the days of exploration as the front runner of Starfleet to pass. They urged for, and won hard-fought for funds in increasing the offensive awareness in the 'Fleet. The Doves, now dwindling in power and influence, held a tenuous grasp on the Council. Their words were falling on more deaf ears every day since the direction the Federation had been taking of past was met with more battles and wars of late. The fleet was dwindling. Gone were the days of the Oberths, the Soyuz's. Now, we're looking at Sovereigns, Pathfinders, refitted Galaxy II's. Cass and Curran were Doves for the most part. It was a loss to lose one of the relatively few as it was.

The door buzzed, immediately admitting entry to the Kelvan. He was even more ragged then when we previously saw him 2 days ago. His eyes, once bright and focused, were now dull as coal. Dark rings edged around the sunken sockets, his complexion sallow and cheeks pulled tight against the sickly features.

"Have we arrived at Gryphon, Captain?" His voice, once sharp and tinged with pride, was now raspy, broken. It was an obvious effort of his to make a show of strength, but it failed miserably. He sharply nodded to the Daedryn off to the side, his eyes looking oddly out of place when he tried to squint them. When he arrived on the Bridge, the ship had still been in warp.

Henderson, off to the Captain's left, was making a show of strict composure, but Curran could see something was off. M'Kantu stood at the head of the trio, his arms crossed and silent for several moments. This put the Kelvan on his guard, for something was up. Just the fact that a counselor was in the room with her demon of the moment was suspicious indeed. At least it wasn't that half-woman Dallas lording over him.

"Not yet, Legate. We are still two hours out." Daren uncoupled his arms, ending the stalemate pose as he revealed a Padd he'd had tucked in under his arms.

"I won't waste both our times in pleasantries, Legate. This is Lieutenant Ammanalynn Lywhyn, Assistant Chief Counselor temporarily."

"I know who she is. Hard to mistake the only Daedryn on this ship with other all the other crew who carry around their pets on the ship at the hip. Someone should really do something about that. It must be so unsanitary." He sneered at the... the... whatever the hell the thing was.

"Tampatiaen is more sanitary than any human being," Ammanalyn stated nonchalontly, though Tam dropped from her shoulder, shifting into his snow leopard by the time he hit the floor, lip curled, some teeth bared, pale blue eyes narrowed. She laid a small hand on his head. "Legate, could you please sit down so we can get this started. We can ask the Captain to leave if you would prefer."

Kylar glanced from M'Kantu to Henderson, and back to the Counselor warily.

"Get started on... what? Why am I here? If it's not for the mission, I'll take my leave of you, then."

"It is for the mission, Legate," Ammanalyn said, showing a bit of nerve for one of the first times in her life. She even took a step forward. "So unless you really want to throw your career out the window, I suggest that you -- you sit down and cooperate with this evaluation." She clenched her jaw and her large doe-like eyes stared at him, urging him to not be as big an ass as people said he was.

"No one has answered my question. Evaluation? You have no right evaluating me! Damnable Starfleet and their so-called superiority." He cringed when the leopard bared its teeth at him.

"Keep that thing away from me before I decide I want to sever its head from its body."

"LEGATE!" M'Kantu's voice boomed over him. "You will respect this crew and personnel. Don't ever try to intimidate an officer under my command again, do you understand me?" The abruptness of the dark captain's rough explosion of words took him aback.

"You are correct in one aspect Captain. You are Starfleet. I am Federation. Your evaluations mean nothing to me, if no bearing at all."

Daren didn't say a word. His anger at the outright abuse of the Counselor was daring get the better of him. Instead he thrust out the Padd he'd been carrying.

"Here is your order. Signed by Ambassador-General Mol, your own supervisor." Daren did not like having to break anyone under his command of their spirit, but this was going nowhere but downhill. Kylar took the electronic display, scrolling over it.

"I warned you that I was unhappy with your behaviour on Starbase 212, and that I would look into it if it continued."

Kylar seethed in rage. The emotions he had so earnestly held in check roiled and bubbled. His face, once a sickly yellow, tainted in a flush of red.

"You cannot relieve me of duty. Says you need the Chief Counselor here." He pointed out the regulation as it was listed in the communiqué.

"Not permanently, no, but if you wish I could bring Counselor Dallas up here to sign off on it. I'm sure she wouldn't mind transferring you off for closer surveillance." He knew he had the Kelvan.

Kylar frothed inwardly. He'd been betrayed by his closest allies. Henderson stood off to the side, silent. He would not help him.

"You are a hard man, Captain." He thrust the padd back. "Fine. Do your evaluation. Even though it would seem you have already made a decision."

"Not yet. You need to convince the Counselor. It now rests in her hands. I cannot order her to sign off on you."

Curran nodded sharply, turning back to face the Daedryn. The creature-thing writhed against her leg like some feline loving its owner for food. Better this one than Dallas. As much as he hated the situation, he was thankful M'Kantu was at least offering him a chance, albeit a small one. Dallas would have failed him without a thought.

"You may begin."

"Now," Am said, softly, voice wavering slightly, though she held her own. The thought of this man beheading Tampatiaen sent a cold shiver down her spine. The man was hateful, but she struggled to put that out of her mind and be objective. "Will you please sit down so we can get this over with?" she sat, motioning to an empty chair.

"I'd rather stand, thank you. I assume this won't take long?" Sitting anywhere near that thing gave him the chills. Probably get taken over, or possessed. Counselors would do anything to get what they want. Power grabbers. Interesting theory by Starfleet. Too bad they didn't use it for external use instead of degrading their own personnel with it.

"Please. Sit. Down." She stated, taking her own seat. "This can take as little or as long as you want, Legate. It depends how seriously you want to take this. *I* do not have my mind made up. Now sit. Please." To add emphasis, Tampatiaen moved forward, baring his teeth a little more, growing a tad in size, his silver toned spots glimmering as the light caught them. He knew the other man was frightened of him -- perhaps frightened was too strong a word, but it was a close enough fit. Sensing that, he decided to try to use it to his person's advantage. Ammanalyn knew this, tried to show it didn't concern her, all the while sending a silent message toward him: *Now Tam,* she thought, *please don't get up both in trouble.*

"Fine. So long as we get this done with and I can get back to my work. My *real* work." The Captain coughed somewhere behind him. Waving a hand surreptitiously, he gingerly eased himself onto the proffered seat, retaining his stiff posture, arms crossed self-consciously.

Tampatiaen, content, turned with a flick of his tail and, showing off slightly, slowly shifted shape down to the ermine, crawling up Am to curl up in her lap, eyes focused firmly on the man in front of them. Ammanalyn laid her hands on him protectively and studied Curran for a fraction of a moment. "Curran, you are here largely because people are concerned about you and your behavior of late. Your appearance and personal presentation has changed drastically. You are... irritable, confrontational, and people with whom you work closely..." Her eyes glanced to the two other men in the room, suddenly very aware of their presence. She didn't like it at all. This wasn't a real session. How would she get anything from this man with them watching him, judging his future? She drew a slow deep breath. "Are concerned especially because of the nature of your work. Can you give me a little insight into this change?"

"I despise counselors." He never even hesitated at the statement. From Dallas and her 'look at me!' attitude down to this rookie, he couldn't believe Starfleet was so dim as to not see how this psychiatric angle has failed on a starship. He saw her eyes slip away from him to M'Kantu and Henderson.

"I sense you are uncomfortable, Counselor." Not much of an impression of a counselor, but then again, he wasn't concerned about lovey emotions, either. "And you are supposed to be leading this evaluation? Would it take the edge off if these two watchers weren't also possibly evaluating you?"

"I'm not concerned about my career, Legate, I've nothing but glowing recommendations." She stood and moved to the captain, her Daemon clinging to her clothing with tiny claws, eyes never leaving the Legate. "Captain," she whispered, "I really need you to leave the room. If I am to complete an evaluation, which is necessary for me to reach any conclusions, I need to be alone with the... with Curran." Her voice shook as she said it, looking up at the much larger, much more powerful man. "All due respect, sir, but I know you would want me to do my job right."

"That is your right, Counselor. We shall be on the Bridge if you need us." He gestured to Henderson, who fell in line behind him. He too sent Ammanalyn a reassuring glance, leaving the Ready Room to its occupants.

The fish jumped in the aquarium.

****

Deck 1
Main Bridge

****

"Do you think she'll be alright, Captain? It's a bit of pressure to put on a junior officer to assess any senior officer, but this is the Legate. No easy task." Cassius had remained silent until the doors had closed behind them.

"One thing to keep in mind, Number One," Daren slipped into the center seat, Cassius in his own right behind, "is to have faith in your crew. You're not their parent, and you shouldn't treat them like you are. They made the decision to pursue the paths they're on. It is for them to determine if it is their fate to pursue those paths or find new ones. Try not to put limits on others, for it is also our duty to encourage and foster the paths they have chosen."

"Game, Set, Match"

Starring:
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer (authorized)

Commander Cassius Henderson,
Executive Officer (authorized)

Lieutenant, JG Ammanalyn Lywhyn,
Assistant Chief Counselor

Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Appearance by:
Lieutenant Janelle Reynolds,
Chief Medical Officer (unauthorized)

****

Deck 1
Ready Room

****

Ammanalyn sighed softly, relieved as Tampatiaen scurried to her shoulder and leaned out, extending his neck and body as far as he could to get a better look at the fish. He ended up jumping off her shoulder and scurrying along the floor eagerly toward the aquarium. "Tam, behave," she said, eyes focused on Curran as she retook her seat and clasped her hands, sitting forward. "We're alone now, Legate, anything you tell me will remain confidential. I have nothing to gain, nothing to lose, and no ulterior motives. Obviously, for whatever reason, you do not trust counselors. I don't know why. But I assure you, you can trust me. While that may fall on deaf ears, I hope that you can come to grips with that. I am... I am not interested in playing politics. I don't care about..." She took a deep breath. "I don't care about that. I want to do what I can for you so that you do not lose something... unnecessarily."

"So you say, but as I'm sure you are all too aware yourself, trust is not to be given freely. You are a political player, like it or not. You are a pawn with the power to eliminate my piece off the chessboard we all play on. You are in the game, like it or not. Now, could we please get on with this? The only thing I'm losing here is valuable time."

"Valuable time in what?" she questioned.

"In preparing my presentation to the Gryphon colonies government! You aren't very bright, are you?" He was feeling quite exasperated. Stringing him up with a second-rate zoologist and her pets.

"Do you understand what will happen if we do not complete this?" she asked, voice soft and level.

"I understand that a decision has most likely already been made, regardless of the outcome of this so-called shenanigan of a session."

"No decision has yet been made, Curran," she stated. "And you do not seem to realize that I am the reason why it has not been. They need me to sign off on it. If you continue to treat this session the way you are, I will do so. That means that you will not be preparing a presentation. That means that you will be doing nothing until a more complete evaluation can be made. Now, explain to me why you have allowed your appearance to change so drastically."

Kylar almost allowed a grin to pass, but then remembered she was playing with manipulation, as all these counselors do so well.

"I don't know, Counselor, and if I did, I doubt I would relinquish that to you so easily. Like you said earlier, it's a matter of trust, and I don't feel that from one who will record and report this little chat-fest you've gotten on here! All you counselors, bleeding hearts, emotional chaotic creatures infest this Galaxy, did you know that? This shell I'm trapped in... it disgusts me. Trapped in such a brittle form. You think my appearance changes can be resolved in one therapy session?" He sneered. "You aren't even Kelvan. You have no idea what I deal with each day on this disease-ridden scourge they call a starship. Maybe I'm the way I am because I'm tired of all you trying to finish me off and complete your conquest by making me all human." Tired of sitting, he jumped to this feet to lord over the tiny girl.

"So go ahead, try and 'fix me', like you have any clue what you're talking about." He felt strong, powerful, on top of the universe. Oh, how he needed this release.

"If you think I do not understand what it is like to be the only one of my kind in an unfamiliar and hostile place, then you are mistaken, Curran," she stated, evenly, aware of Tampatiaen's shift into leopard form again as he crept closer, attention drawn away from the fish he'd been examining through the glass by the spike of adrenaline in his person's system. "And believe me when I tell you that I am certainly not looking to make you human." She clenched her teeth slightly. "Sit down and tell me about being Kelvan. I've only read about your species."

"We seriously don't have time for this. After the mission, I will gladly tell you of my people. Seriously, what bearing does my culture have on present events? If anything, my people have no use for psychiatry. We're tested young and assigned to work projects accordingly for further training. None of this self-questioning and implanting of doubts by others who think they know better when they've been there in the first place. You couldn't possibly understand or life. You fail in your assigned duties, you walk into the desert to die a dry, meaningless death. Simple as that."

"Why do you think I would not be able to understand that?" she questioned, a small smile breaking over her lips. "If you knew about my culture, perhaps you would change your perspective. And no, I suppose it has not bearing on present events. It only does if you feel it has contributed to your emotional state; and Curran, regardless of whether or not you chose to realize it, you are in an emotional state at the moment. Now... please." Her voice shook slightly on the 'please'. She wasn't used to this type of behavior. "Sit down."

"That is quite the insult to lay on me, Counselor. I can't help but believe you are baiting me." Instead of sitting, he paced to the viewport to the stars trailing outside in a rubberband of light.

"For all the size of this ship, it cramps me." He didn't know why he was saying it, but the words just started falling out.

"I feel the laughter, the hatred brimming when I make my presence known. The terrans on board... I can feel their repulsion couple with their smug superiority over making us beg for a savior. They no longer have to see us as our true forms; there's no truer for of conquering a species than making them over into your own image." He breathed deep through his nostrils, waving his hands up underneath. "They have stolen my identity, and now I have to live in this imperfect shell with all its impurities."

She nodded softly. "That is a lot to be dealing with, Curran," she said. "How do you feel you have been coping with this? What have been your strategies?"

He cocked his head to the side to glimpse her on his peripheral. "Coping? How do you cope with losing everything you are, Counselor? Can you tell me that that was the body you were born with?" He returned to the cosmic view. "I have no strategies but one. I live with it. No one can assist me." He clasped his hands behind him and continued to watch the stars.

"I think that's about all the personal nature you'll get out of me today, Counselor. We have but one hour remaining before we arrive in the Gryphon system. You'd best make your decision now so I can prepare either way."

She sighed softly and rubbed her forehead, resting her other hand on Tampatiaen's head that he thrust in her lap. "Legate, it is obvious to me that you are suffering from a terrible trauma, I hope that you would be willing to work with me more in the duration of your time here. I understand it has been a difficult transition for you, but I think maybe... well." She bowed her head and cleared her throat. "I don't want to, but I am going to have to comply with the Captain's request. You will be take... taken off active duty for the duration of the mission and I am going to make a note that you must attend regular counseling sessions with me, or another counselor, should you want to return. Meanwhile, Curran, I encourage you to... well, fine a way to get some rest and get off the ship for a little while." She looked at him with large, doe-like brown eyes, concern echoing behind them. Her companion's creepy pale blue were staring at him similarly. She showed him no fear, nothing at all except innocent compassion. "I am very sorry, Legate." And she meant it.

"I'm sure you are, Counselor. Thank you for your candor." He pivoted away from the window to march with a deliberate, equaled step to exit the Read Room, with one hesitation. He did not look to her, but spoke with fractured tones, but it did appear more relaxed.

"You are a stronger person than you believe yourself to be, Counselor. Or make yourself out to be. That makes you a valued crewmember. Continue the honesty and sincerity. You will go far. I look forward to our next palaver."

Curran did not look back as he left.

****

Deck 1
Main Bridge

****

The meeting wasn't going over too well, Daren thought to himself. He wouldn't let his concerns show through, but they'd been there for almost an hour. The Legate's release from all duties on the upcoming convention was quite more probably treated as a dismissal to his personal standards. It had been far too long since Daren was a civilian, so it wasn't all too clear how he would have responded in the Kelvan's situation had his own superiors cast away all loyalty in favour of the opposition.

Knowing that Kylar also held himself to a strict and rigid structure not unlike Starfleet itself - perhaps even more so - Daren could see that the impact of that same decision would come as a slap in the face as resolute failure.

Curran had left without encouraging the conflict further. What was done is done. He could only hope that he licked his wounds on the rest leave he'd been ordered to take.

"Captain, I hereby appoint you as Diplomatic representative of Federation interests during this mission. I've prepared my notes in the central mainframe under Curran-Gryphon. It is not encrypted." With chin up, the Kelvan retained his dignity as he exited the Bridge.

Daren sent a silent command to Henderson to remain as he purposefully strode back into his Ready Room.

****

Deck 1
Ready Room

****

Ammanalyn sighed softly as the Captain came back in, and she dropped her gaze to look at the Daemon who shifted into a small mouse shape she covered with folded hand. She felt him quivering there: felt him quivering by touch, and by their connection. "I will agree to remove him temporarily from duty," she said, softly, "but I'm not sure it's really the right thing to do."

[Captain, you wished to be apprised when we entered the Gryphon system]

Everything was happening at once. They were ahead of schedule for once. He tapped his badge in response.

"Slow to one-quarter sublight and take it easy, Mr. Savoie. We're a bit early. Get to know those asteroids like they were your best friend."

[Aye sir]

"Why do you say that, Counselor?" He guided her to a seat while he took his own.

"He is dealing with a lot. He feels as though his entire life has lost its structure. Taking what little he has left might send him into further spiral." Clasping Tampatiaen close to her chest, the waif-like girl woman smiled slightly at the Captain. "I don't know your reasons for wanting him removed, Captain, I'm sure their good ones. I just hope it doesn't push him even further away than he already has been. Under normal circumstances, I might have been able to reach him." She shrugged slightly, glanced at the Commander behind him. "Karyn would want me to remind both of you not to be strangers down in counseling. The Command staff too often think we're not there for you, but if anything, it's most vital that you have your own regular visits. Now, if I may be excused... I have patients to see..."

"One thing you'll learn that is more difficult in practice than in understanding, Lieutenant, is that the best decision is not always the right thing to do. It's relative. Is it right for the person, or for the greater good? You need to separate those two when making decisions, because sometimes you must choose for one and sometimes for the other. Your department never has an easy time of it with regards to tasks of that nature I'm afraid. Just keep in mind that, if you had passed him, the consequences that his emotional turmoil might have had for the Federation. He knows the bigger picture is more important in the end; I think you helped convey that thought to him. Thank you for your assistance, Counselor. Dismissed."

"Learning to Fly"

Starring: Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer,
USS Galaxy

Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora (unauthorized)
Council President,
Gryphon Coalition

Unauthorized Appearances by:
Commander Cassius Henderson,
Chief Executive Officer,
USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf,
Chief Operations Officer,
USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie,
Chief Flight Control Officer,
USS Galaxy

Authorized Appearance by:
Sub-Commander Savar tr-Khellian,
Acting Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

***

Deck 1
Main Bridge

***

Daren hadn't wanted to relieve the Legate of his duties for this mission; there were no other remotely qualified personnel in the Liaison offices capable of handling this situation.

Now, the responsibility fell to him to officially represent the Federation in matters pertaining to requests from the Gryphon Coalition. That would not go over well with the colonists he knew. He represented power and might on this ship, therefore any honest actions could very well be skewed in his favor. It was by far a most undesirable position to be in at best. Maybe it was about time he saw if Karyn Dallas had learned from her mistakes of the past.

She would accompany him.

Surveying the concave control center around him, he assessed which personnel might best be suited for a mediation mission.

Jeremy Savoie, deep in concentration as he eased the Galaxy through the marked corridors of passage designated by the Coalition. The Galaxy was a substantially larger ship than what usually came about this part of the system. The deflectors took care to sweep aside the smaller chunks, but they would not suffice against the larger units. Daren wanted to jump out when a small moon-sized one narrowly missed the bridge itself, but clamped down. Savoie was the best; he wouldn't be Chief if he weren't.

The Galaxy had to reduce her shields to almost skin distance. These bits of debris, meaningless bits of matter to a starship, were the livelihood of the colonists who made this area their home. Any destruction to them would be two-fold; reduced incomes for the colonists, and even lesser chances of the Federation winning top-level consideration for contract bidding.

Savoie would remain on his personal duties for now. He would be needed to train his replacement personnel on reaction to asteroidal threat when the ship was parked at Lammergeir. Daren would be sure to authorize shore leave for him after all personnel had been fully trained on the procedures.

To Savoie's right was Curtis Geluf. The ship would remain at standby alerts during its stay here. Geluf would not be needed, and so the Captain mentally checked off the Kerelian as accompanying him.

Above him and to his left, Sub-Commander Savar was deeply entrenched in his duties. The Captain, meaning to discuss with him his intentions on the Acting Chief position, decided that Savar could do as he opted. Tactical would not be facing any strenuous tasks this day. Upon closure of this mission, they would discuss his options then. Daren had reservations on the Romulan, but his actions last mission were to be commended. Daren was unsure how he would react himself if stationed on an enemy vessel facing his own people in combat and in control of the weapons systems.

Yes, Sub-Commander Savar duly deserved recognition and credit - but only on this ship. There would be no official record of his being stationed at the weapons post during combat maneuvers with the Romulans. With the treaty of Galvanis in place, and his assignment to this vessel under close scrutiny, it would not do to inform his people he had taken part in tactical strategy against them. It may only serve this Tal Shiar agent on board to complete her task in eliminating him.

As to the rest of the crew...

"Captain, Lammergeir is directly ahead." Daren tore himself from his reverie to focus on the viewscreen as Geluf made his announcement. He'd been trying to avoid watching it, as the asteroids making their deadly path witness to any eyes watching the screen were enough to shake any beings composure.

Daren cleared his throat and brought his attention to the core.

"Open-"

"Lammergeir communication net is hailing us, sir." The Kerelian had not indeed to interrupt the Captain, and gulped, unsure of the Captain's response at being cut off.

"Respond, Lieutenant. Send our regards and request docking permission."

"Aye sir." Fingers flurrying over the panel in sending the canned recorded response, it only took a few seconds to return.

"Docking port 12 sir." He crinkled his brow. "Captain, that clamp is only capable of fitting cargo and lower tonnage freight vessels. There isn't enough debris clearance for us to safely dock."

Daren knew this already though. Part of the Science and Curran's reports had verified the debris content and defenses wouldn't allow the ship static docking.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Geluf. Mr. Savoie, engage your docking program."

Jeremy, his face no longer sweating now that the ship was more agreeable to maneuvering without any forward inertia, jumped at the opportunity to 'stuff it' to Geluf.

The ship, as seen from outside, emitted a series of motions. Maneuvering thrusters to avoid the mid-range size asteroids, re-aligned repulsor beams instead of tractors to push aside the larger ones.

Otherwise, Lammergeir's orbital defenses took care of any of the more dangerous ones.

"Docking port 12 is our official designated port. Any smaller craft from the Galaxy to the asteroid will dock through it."

"Incoming transmission from Lammergeir. Ambassador sh'Sonora, sir." Curtis shot a dirty glance over to Savoie. ~Something is not at all at peace between them~, Daren thought.

"Put her through." Daren tugged his shirt down in front, as seems would be the habits of all Starfleet Captains. The viewscreen shimmered bringing the Andorian council President into existence.

[Welcome to Gryphon and Lammergeir, Captain M'Kantu] The Andorian, last we saw of her was on lanjep, overseeing the Andorian interests over the trade route. They had not agreed with Karyn's voting down the route, but at least understood why she had made that decision. They at least, remained with the Federation. Losing a founding member would have been disastrous. Most people thought they stayed because of their idea that the Federation would fall apart without anyone babysitting the Tellarites.

Others just thought they loved the banter with them, even if they wouldn't admit it.

"I'm sure it will be a pleasure, Ambassador."

[That depends on a few things, Captain. I am hoping your presence will prevent any shortcomings that may result from these propitious meetings is one of them. When will you be beaming down?]

"As soon as you are prepared for us, Ambassador."

[We've been prepared since we were apprised of your assignment here. We've made sure your stay will be protected and comfortable. We have made special arrangements for Legate Curran as per his requests.]

"Legate Curran will not be a part of the mediations, Ambassador." Daren's tone suggested to not pursue the matter further.

[Ah, I see. That's too bad. I had hoped to meet him. Is your Commander Corgan still assigned to the Galaxy?] She sounded somewhat disappointed and asked of Corgan tenuously.

"Yes, he is. He'll be accompanying us to the surface."

[Excellent!] Mika's mood had considerably lightened upon hearing that news. The Legate leaving had completely left her.

[Oh, and Captain, your crew are more than welcome to share in the festivities ongoing here on Lammergeir and elsewhere in the belt. The Gryphon Coalition is celebrating their first centennial of independence! In fact, they are in the midst of throwing a most lavish party right here at the Council chambers! There is even an exhibition of sorts on the grounds. I think your crew might enjoy it]

"I shall pass that along, Ambassador. We'll beam down to your chambers in one hour."

[Excellent! We await your delegation with anticipation] At that end, someone had obviously gotten Mika's attention, for her eyes had averted somewhere off-screen.

[Unfortunately, I have some duties to attend to, Captain. We'll see you in one hour] The transmission terminated, to be replaced by the view of the asteroid below. The deflectors glittered from impacts of smaller debris.

"Commander Henderson, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir." Daren nodded to the Executive Officer, who slipped into the Captain's now vacated seat.

"Geluf, with me." The Kerelian, casting a glance that should have included a tongue sticking out at Savoie, slid out of his niche, to be replaced by an as yet un-named Enlisted.

Jeremy, closed all the fingers of one hand except his middle one, tapping in his on-the-fly commands with it.

"Heroes"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Team Leader/Director

Ens. Dale James
Camera Crew

Ens. Shep Wickenhouse
Camera Crew

& Lt. Cmdr. Tom Rundell
USS Galaxy Public Affairs Liaison

-----

They call me a filmmaker when they're being particularly kind. I've heard bastard, a**hole, and several other uncomplimentary epithets tied to my name more times than I can count. I like to consider myself a truth-teller. I am not afraid to tell it like it is, even if it does look uncomplimentary to those in power at the time. That's part of the reason why I'm not allowed to step foot inside the borders of Alpha Centauri, the other part is not something I care to go into. Suffice to say it involved a girl. A rather pretty girl, mind you. A pretty, rich girl...Oh, who am I kidding? She was the daughter of the president of Alpha Cent. Need I say more?

My name is Emmett Bregman, documentary maker-extraordinaire. It is because of that particular talent of mine that I have found myself on the USS Galaxy, strolling behind a mammoth of a man named Lt. Cmdr. Rundell - who also happens to be their public affairs liaison. President Jaresh-Inyo, or rather my friend Garth, asked me to assemble a documentary to clear the air on what exactly it is that Starfleet does for the public. I am to show that there are heroes out here in space, heroes that put their lives at risk every day. It sounded like a challenge.

However, if everyone on this ship is like Rundell, I am - to put it mildly - screwed. The man is as personable as a piece of burnt toast. I like to put a human slant on my subjects, to show that there is a good person behind the uniform of whatever I'm trying to show. My thoughts were interrupted by the particularly lively conversation from my camera crew.

Of course, I'm the only civilian in this particular outfit right now. Garth insisted that I bring along a few Starfleet officers to 'make me seem more approachable' - his words, not mine. Hence, I'm stuck with Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum. Or rather Ensign Dale James and Ensign Shep Wickenhouse. I have worked with them before and they do know how to follow orders - my orders that is - however, they had a tendency to speak out of turn and to make nuisances of themselves. It is hard to find decent help these days.

Their words penetrated my thoughts, causing my steps to falters somewhat as I heard what they said.

"Shep, did you hear that this is where that chick from Starfire got posted?"

"No way, Jasmine Heloi's *here* on this ship? Man, she's hot."

"Think we can get ourselves an autograph?"

Teenagers. They might be in their twenties, but they still acted like teenagers. Jasmine Heloi, former actress turned Starfleet officer, would be a good person to have in the documentary..."'Cmdr. Rundell, would it be possible for me to get some of the dossiers on the Galaxy's crew? I need to pick a good variety of people to interview for the documentary."

The mammoth man turned towards me, and in a surprisingly weak voice for such a large person responded, "I'll be able to get you some information, Mister Bregman. It may take a few hours, however."

I shrugged, "What's a few hours between friends?" I flashed a grin that tended to annoy most people.

Rundell shot me a look and continued along the hallway. I suspected that he was not exactly my biggest fan. Ah well, the joys of journalism.

((OOC: Takes place right about the time as when we arrive in Gryphon system. Miguel's initial arrival aboard the ship at Starbase 212 is coming soon in the form of a JP))

"Perspectives"

Starring

Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval

Its all about perspective really......

Take for instance the Gryphon system....currentl political hotspot of the Federation where opposing parties seem ready to come to blows over terraforming rights of the system's larger asteroids. So important is this collection of independent mining colonies to the Federation that they have dispatched no less than its latest Battleship, the USS GALAXY to help restore peace and order to the troubled locale.

Gunboat Diplomacy is what it really was, or as long-ago President Reagan put it...."Speak softly but Keep the Battleship New Jersey handy...."

All of this seems important, but consider the turmoil in the larger scheme of things.

In reality, Gryphon is an infinitesimal scattering of dust and pebbles awash in a sea of nothingness that is the universe as a whole. Mere dust as it were on the face of the eternal void.

What of the GALAXY itself. This tri-nacelled wonder of modern science? This space-going leviathan bristling with planet-shattering weaponry?

A mote in the eye of creation.

Even now as the GALALXY slips out of Warp-Space, decelerating into sub-light at the fringes of the above mentioned Gryphon dust fields we see that given the right perspective....there are other things afoot of much more lasting importance..............

`^`

`^`

Glancing up through the massive "Skylights" that covered the GALAXY's deck 7 Botanical Garden's, Miguel Antonio Sandoval noted how the massive starship returned to the Einsteinian Universe when the blurred 'starstreaks' slowed and coalesced into brilliant pin-pricks of light.

The starship it seemed had arrived at Gryphon at last, making the journey thousands of times faster than even a ray of light could.

For some people.....the mere idea that one could take a mountain of steel the size of the GALAXY and hurl it through space and time at speeds beyond the laws of reality, represented a wonder and achievement beyond description or imagination.

For the simple lad from El Salvador however, there were things far more fascinating afoot. He merely shrugged off the arrival and turned his gaze back downwards towards the small Mustard Seedling that he was gently transplanting into a new potting arrangement.

For Miguel, there was more wonder and amazement the timid arrangement of fragile leaves and roots than anything Warp technology could inspire.

">One moment more gentle Mustard....<" Miguel cooed to the tiny plant in his native Spanish as he gently lifted it from the starter-pot, shaking black soil from its hair-like roots.

">A few more moments and we will have you in your new home......you are too big and grown-up for pots now....you are ready for the world.<" The scientist reassured the precious seedling, carefully examining its structure with a critical eye. There were no insects or parasites aboard the GALAXY that could maraud the tiny plant, but Miguel still felt he owed the Mustard his utmost care and attention, and so left nothing to chance.

~~~God gives strength to those he expects to watch out for the weak.~~~ the childhood lesson came unbidden to Miguel's mind as he gently turned the frail stem between his fingers.

Determining at last that there was no rot or damage to the plant, the Starfleet officer stooped to settle the adolescent Mustard into its new home as part of the Main Botanical Gardens. Standing at a mere 5 inches, the simple stem with its three tiny leaves were dwarfed by the more mature and exotic greenery of the surrounding Arboretum, but again Miguel reasoned that every living thing, great or small had its place in his Lord's creation.

">After all...<" he said to the plant as he gently smoothed fresh soil around its roots, "...the blessed Lord himself said that if we had but the faith of a Mustard such as you, that we should accomplish amazing things.<"

The tiny Mustard did not reply, but perhaps it stood a little straighter in its new home, as Miguel leaned back to consider his work.

'Brassica campestris' (the common Mustard) might be the humblest of plants, but Miguel still remembered the first seeds he planted as a child almost fifteen years before. The seedlings had sat in simple ceramic pots all lined in a row along his bedroom window for almost three weeks before the first precious shoots had poked their emerald heads out above the packed soil.

Miguel had been hooked on plants from then on. The wonders of planting a seed and helping it to grow had become a never-ending joy in his life ever since.

"Buena suerte." Miguel said nodding his head in respect towards the newly transferred Mustard. ">Good-Luck in your new home and grow up strong and proud.<"

With a slight popping of joints, Miguel rose from his kneeling position and brushed at the damp earth that still clung to his uniform knees. Absently rubbing the soil between his fingers, he considered the vast Botanical Gardens around him and frowned.

Things were changing slowly, but frankly the GALAXY's Arboretum was simply in sad shape. To the untrained eye things looked pleasant, what with cunningly arrayed floral sprays and cute little winding paths, but to Miguel's more scientific mind, it was all too artificial.

~~~A zoo for plants.~~~ he mused to himself shaking his head. ~~~An amateurish warehouse designed more for aesthetic value than the real benefit of its inhabitants.

For him the plants were too confined, and unnaturally grouped, reminding the El Savadoran of an unhappy wild animal trapped in a tiny zoo-cage too cramped to do anything more than pace nervously.

The garden was also littered with garish artificial lighting designed more for aesthetics than anything else, and was nothing more than gaudy eyesores to Miguel who preferred a more ordered natural appearance.

Glancing up at the humming neon lights above, the scientific part of Miguel cringed. Artificial Garbage.......What plants needed......What plants WANTED was REAL light.

Miguel glanced at the soil that he had been rubbing between his fingers. ~~~And Earthworms too!~~~ he grumbled for the umpteenth time since he first took control of his Department. ~~~I need REAL earthworms to aerate REAL soil instead of this mass-produced replicated garbage they call soil.~~~

In the rushed hours before departure from Starbase 212 weeks before Miguel had hastily requisitioned a starter colony of 10 tons of Earthworms in stasis. Beyond the wonders they could work for the GALAXY's meager gardens they could be invaluable for revitalizing the ecology of explored worlds out on the Frontier.

Alas Starfleet in its wisdom had categorically denied the request and there was nary an Earthworm to be found on the entire USS GALAXY.

It was painfully obvious to poor Miguel that his initial fears of Science being a secondary concern aboard the Galaxy were sadly accurate. The Botany department was woefully neglected, and drastic understaffing was the primary reason that he, an inexperienced newly graduated Ensign, had been placed in charge of the whole department.

~~~Who did they have before I came along?~~~ he wondered? ~~~Did they even care?~~~

He wondered idly if Captain M'Kantu was even aware he HAD a Botany Department.

Miguel sighed......probably not.

"A Checkup Before I Go"

T'Shani A'Akledorian
Lieutenant Commander Vladimir Malgin
Chief Surgeon

** Following "Resignation"; before Cass and Tish's little *trip* **

=^= Deck 12: Surgical Ward 4 =^=

"OW!" Tish yelped. She had told the doctor that she didn't need an anesthetic - she could take a small incision by her own willpower - but the *surgeon* (if he could be called that) was being a little to rough...

... "I told you to stay silent, didn't I?" said Vladimir with as much of evil sarcasm as he could (and verily he COULD), "It is you, who wanted this little process to be carried out without anesthetic. You. It is you, who wanted to check your pain tolerance or willpower or whatever else. You. So I wouldn't mind, if you stop yelping, moaning, cursing me even mentally...You know, that I don't like it..."

The Doctor's hands, despite this tirade, were working even faster than his tongue (it is possible), as he was quickly doing his job.

~Why in the name of Umar did I get *this* barbarian~ Tish groused to herself, as she lay facing down on the surgical bed. Yes, she had to have the *device* installed...but the spot was so damned incovenient! She wouldn't be able to sit down properly for the next few days...at least, it was the least-likely place for any would-be captors to search for it...

Speaking with her head to the side, as the doctor finished inserting the device, "Careful, Doctor Malgin," the ice growing in her voice, "I'm no longer officially commissioned by Starfleet, so I could kill you, and disappear, and there would be nothing anyone could do..." she joked...well...*half-joked*...

"... Why do I have to spend time with this person, planting some sort of a device inside...." Vladimir mentally kicked his brain for such thoughts "Inside that! Damn, I could just have been drinking some lemonade in the Lounge... Maybe playing some chess or just spending time in holodeck...But..." He intentionally made little inaccurate movement "This girl makes me stay here and look into her..." One more mental kick.

"Enough of you..." he finally said, stepping away from her and looking more-than-sarcastically, "We'd see you will kill whom. As for now, you just could have said 'thank you, kind doctor, your perfomace was excellent'..."

Tish swung herself up, after the Good Doctor finished with the dermal stitcher. Actually, she couldn't even tell that the device was installed, now. She got up, and pulled her uniform pants back on.

"Thank you, kind doctor, your performance was excellent," she mocked, while finishing dressing, sans rank bars.

"Although, you may want to work on your bedside manner," she said, turning to face him. "So...is this thing working?" she said, tapping at the LCARS display on the wall, while subconciously shifting her weight to her 'unaffected' side.

Oh, well, the girl proved that she literally wanted to enrage him. Strangely, Vladimir didn't explode with anger, shoot with curses or anything. He just calmly said. "First - don't mock mem as this might result in your coma. Second - I am a good surgeon, as bad one wouldn't have put that 'thingie' inside with so little pain and so cleanly. And last, butcertainly not least... NEVER criticize my bedside manner! Gotcha? Hope so. As for that thing..." he yawned, "I don't really care if it works, but it does."

"Perfect," Tish said, spinning on her heel - albeit with a wince...

"See ya around...Doc..." she said, semi-sweetly, as she strolled out of the operating room...

"Don't want to see you around," bumbled Good Doctor, walking from the operation room, "Hope that this thinglie will cause as much pain as it could..."

"End of Hermitage"

by Turan Trelar
long lost juvenile Quentite Ambassador

((OOC: oversized 16-year-old student with agricultural and boy scout background searching for a job.))

"Can Turan ask for a privilege, captain?" pronounced Turan. For the last weeks, after he was attacked by the camouflaged officer who first seemed to take him for her husband and afterwards almost beat the hell out of him he rarely left his room.

Instead he spent most of his time studying. Several pencil drawings filled his desk, most of them accurate drafts of a spaceships recreational facilities.

=/\= Do you want any correction? =/\= offered the small gadget, half covered by the paper sheets in the 16-year-old boy's native language - Quentinarish.

Turan had switched his translator to teaching mode and now used it to learn the language, the Galaxy's crew called 'Starfleet standard'

"Translator, correction please" answered Turan.

=/\= Usage of the the word 'can' should be limited to cases which deal with the ability to do something. If you intend to ask for the permission to do something, use 'may' instead.

You your name should never be used instead of 'I'. Build an additional sentence if you are going to introduce you to somebody.

Replace 'privilege' with 'favor'.

At the end of a sentence, meant as a question raise your voice instead of lower ist. =/\=

Turan uttered a groan. Although Starfleet standard first seemed to be rather easy with it's reduced set of just twenty-six letters and with even for a Quentite's tongue rather pronounceable words, Turan had difficulties to choose the right phrase for a given context. But in the end that's what a language was meant for.

"May I ask you for a favor, captain?" retried Turan.

=/\= No corrections available =/\= reacted the translator.

Turan grabbed the translator and attached it to his Quentite boy scout uniform jacket, switched his desk's light off. Time was right to leave his hermitage to show the world outside his room what he had learned so far. Maybe it was even time to ask the captain to have himself integrated in the Galaxy's every day routine.

OOC: BACKPOST: To the end of the previous mission.

"What You See Is Not Always What You Get"

Primary Characters:
Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson
Ensign Rima Pennington

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 4
Main Shuttlebay Flight Deck

Rima Pennington made a beeline for Cass even as all manner of shuttle techs, engineers, and god-knew who else swarmed over the damaged shuttle Serengheti. This was a bad habit, she was developing, caring enough to follow decidedly dangerous orders. ~Whatever happened to just looking out for me?~

Cass wasn't expecting his next conversation with Rima to go well. The Serengheti had taken a stray disruptor shot during the course of the battle with the Romulans and was nearly destroyed.

Rima walked over, gave him her sweetest smile, and made to kick him where it counted. "Never do that to me again, Cass," she said, throwing her foot forward with all the force she could summon. How the man infuriated her!

Cass deftly caughter her foot to check it's momentum, then let it fall. Pennington stumbled, swayd, and narrowly managed to avoid falling over. "I take it you're not happy to see me," he said, pulling her into a side office adjoining the bay.

"You could say that," she snapped back, letting out her pent up frustration. Still rattled from the *shuttle ride from hell* She shivered uncomfortably, "I'm sorry if I don't *meet your standards*, but I like my life and don't enjoy risking it for other people. And I hate shuttles, Cass, especially ones that are getting *shot* at!"

He sighed. It wasn't that he didn't understand. He was fond of life, himself, and could fathom her reasoning quite well. It was more that he didn't agree with the part about doing it for other people. "Rima... You know how you were supposed to come here and learn from me?"

"Yeah, your point?"

"My point is that I've learned a few things, too," Cass admitted, leaning against the conference table, "I can't hold you, or anyone else, to my standards. Just me. So no, I'm not dissapointed. And you come through in a pinch, anyway, like today."

~The only big difference between us is that you can be counted on to complain about it.~

"Fine, Cass," Rima sighed, satisfied for now. She sucked at this sort of thing, the whole standing up for herself thing. She'd never had a way with words, and hated how Cassois could just say things that removed her will to fight with him, "Can I go sleep now?"

"Not just yet."

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Cass got to the point, "Rima, I have a favor to ask. I know. I know. Another one. But I have to remain visible because I'm the acting XO. You can dissapear for a while and not be missed. Especially if I let SubCommander tr'Khellian know what's going on."

~Oh, that's a real confidence booster,~ Rima thought, ~Disappear and not be missed.~ She looked him square in the eye. "Fine. What do you want?"

"We're transferring the Rihannsu Commander, Seraan tr'Bhutra, over here and setting him up in the brig. The problem is that our security recorders are offline," Henderson said, "I think something more than meets the eye may be happening here, and I want you to watch Commander tr'Bhutra for me. Without being seen."

He expression didn't change. "I am not invisible, Cassius," she stated flatly.

"I know you're not," Cass said, "There's a ventilation shaft that comes off the jeffries tube that leads into the brig. It's locked from the outside, but you can access it from the tube network. You can listen and watch through it. Take a holoimager and a recorder. Get Lieutenant' Remur to let you into the tubes."

She nodded slowly, "Alright, I'll do your dirty work, Cass, *this time*. And afterwords, I need some sleep before you throw me into the next crisis." This was giving her a headache.

"Fair enough," he said, and they set about their tasks.

~ Our Scripture for Today is a Reading form the Book of Miguel~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Ens. Miguel Antonio Sandoval
Lt. Daniel Scarborough

(The Galaxy.....backdated just prior to leaving Starbase 212)

"I, uh, I hear we got a, um, new Chief Botanist?"

"Sema," Cutter replied to his chief colleague, Daniel Scarborough, "I'm actually supposed to meet him in, uh, about 15 minutes." They were sitting in Cutter's office, a larger room imbedded amidst several others, the hub of the astrophysics community aboard the Galaxy. He and Daniel had just finished running through a logistics report to be given to OPS, new equipment that was brought aboard from the starbase, schedules and accompanying ship's systems protocols that would have to be suspended or modified during installation, sensor schedule for the upcoming week, etc., etc., etc. Standard paperwork.

"Who is he," Daniel asked. He was surprisingly interested in this new crewmember, perhaps because he was a new department chief.

"Uh," Cutter stalled and picked up a PADD, "Miguel Antonio Sandoval."

Daniel nodded, then looked at Cutter for a moment. "And?"

"And what? He's the new chief botanist."

"Oh, all right. Um, so, um, nothing, um, nothing interesting then, huh?"

Cutter shrugged, a movement taking place more in his wings than in his shoulders, "You can read his personnel file, that's all I know."

"Yeah, but, uh, you know, you, uh, you get the, uh, um ... all access version," Daniel explained.

"You're quite gossipy today. What's with you humans, always have to know every little secret about everyone."

"Yeah, I don't know," Daniel admitted. "He's new, though, isn't he? I mean, uh, fresh, uh, fresh from the academy. Why, uh, why does he, um, get to be chief already?"

Again, Cutter shrugged in indifferent ignorance. "Botany is a small department. I don't think there are any commissioned officers. Maybe coming in as an ensign gives him highest rank. Maybe a professor pulled a few strings for him, I don't know. He lives on this ship now, why don't you go meet him and ask?"

Daniel glanced at Cutter, then shifted it away to various places around the room, looking around for visible answers. Obviously, his curiosity was not satiated, but Cutter wasn't going to be any help. The rumor mill would turn up material in a day or so. "Um, all right," he said, rising from his chair, "well, I, uh, I, um..." He gestured towards the door, nodded, more to himself than to Cutter, than gave a slight wave and left.

"Ekayn, Danu."

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

Two decks below, and Eight bulkheads aft, the aforementioned Botanist was still in the midst of a forlorn search for his cabin, when the call to meet with the Science Head came buzzing over his Chest Communicator. The bulky potted plant that Miguel carried in both arms had long ago become much too burdensome for words, and for a moment he was torn between carrying on, or just dumping the silly thing down the nearest reclamation chute. However, the words of Marshal Hux, and how he compared the potential for this gangly looking plant to Miguel's own potential aboard Galaxy came ringing back to mind.

One look at his precious Rose-Bush, and Miguel had to smile. ~~~As if I could ever remain mad at you my precious Rosa.~~~

Shifting the heavy pot in his arms again, he continued his search.

~~~Blessed Jesus had to carry his cross.....perhaps I have to carry my Rose-Bush as my burden.~~~ Even though the analagy seemd to fit, Miguel quickly blushed and flushed it from his mind. As if he could ever compare himself to the Blessed Savior! He made a note to do some Hail Maria's as penance for his insolence.

Sighing he continued down the hall.

The Galaxy was so much bigger than he had previously imagined, and after the first fifteen minutes all the endless kilometers of beige carpeting was starting to look alike.

~~~Madre de Dios, but what a Monster they have built!~~~ he thought, as he turned yet another corner. ~~~Can it be true that she actually flies through space?~~~

As a Science-Emphasis Graduate from the Academy, Miguel's actual experience with Starships was rather limited. His Space time had been limited to a few cadet-cruises to Mars and back, and one week-long survey of the Jupiter system, but even then his time was spent mostly locked in a laboratory.

The Galaxy and her Ship-of-the-Line ilk were quite beyond his imagining.

~~~Ay Maria'.~~~ he swore as he finally made sense of what the English-printed placards were telling him. ~~~I'm not even on the correct deck.!~~

Doubling back to located a Turbolift he had passed earlier, the young El Salvadoran made the quick trip up to the primary Science level, and without too much further difficulty, stepped between the hissing doors that opened up onto the Central Astrophysics Research area.

Shifting the plant awkwardly he glanced around. The Astro-guys had as little to do with his precious plants as he had to do with their 'space-dust'.......or whatever it was that they studied.

~~~Whats so exciting about dead floating rocks?~~~ he mused. Growing things.....full of life and potential was where the REAL exciting science lay. That's where the really intriguing mysteries lay.

Miguel idly poked his head into a nearby office, looking for directions, "Excuse please....I am being looking for Senor Kara'nin and...........GRAN MADRE DE DIOS PRESEVARA NOSOTROS!!!" Miguel nearly dropped the potted bush in shock at the sight before him.

>>>>>>>

And 'lo the angel of the Lord did descend from on high and stood before the Lord's servant Miguel.

And Miguel was filled with fear before the Angel of The Lord and sought to hide his eyes.....

And Lo the Angel did say unto Miguel...

>>>>>>>>>

"Tola. Ento dwomdzi?el, er, uh, how are you? I trust you found the place without too much difficulty."

Blinking and trembling Miguel snapped back to reality and had to do a double-take. No his eyes were not lying to him. There, before him stood a being like unto the glorious Angels of the Lord whom Miguel was brought up to revere. Indeed his own name was given in honor of the blessed Archangel Miguel who cast Satan out of Heaven at the beginning of all things.

Miguel looked again. He never recalled the Padre mentioning the fact that the Archangel wore a Starfleet uniform however.

Cutter stood for a moment, becoming increasingly uncomfortable trapped in this young man's stare. After a few more moments, Cutter began to awkwardly glance about the room, confused about the extended silence. "Tola? You, uh, you are Miguel, right?"

"M. . .M. . . Miguel?" the young Ensign replied his palms suddenly quite sweaty against the cool terra-cotta pot. He was not quite sure if he was supplying his own name, or trying to confirm if this being was his Archangel namesake.

"Sem," Cutter replied, drawing the word out to some length, forming as much of a question as the ensign before him had. "My name is Cutter. I'm the Chief Science Officer. Are you Miguel, the new botanist?"

Botany? What was Botany......Oh yes. "Botany!! Si si ....I am Botany. I work hard. Very hard I swear it." Miguel retreated a step unconsciously. Every fiber of his rigid Catholic upbringing was at odds with what his common sense was telling him. This was an alien......or was it? Just in case Miguel Crossed himself as best he could without dropping the pot.

Cutter was slowly beginning to understand what was going on. He hadn't experienced this since he left Earth, this awe he seemed to strike in some people, this religious image he seemed to cast. He never quite understood it, but he hadn't ever explored what it was, either. The event was rare enough that he had never felt the need to; he certainly wasn't interested in religions of other cultures. It was more common to run across people who were simply jealous of him, of being able to fly; it seemed to be a very common desire among groundwalkers. What did the Terrans call him, an anchor? Ankle? Angle? Maybe if he ignored it, this man would reason for himself that Cutter wasn't one.

"Ah...Senor...ah Anjel..." Miguel wondered fervently what he was supposed to call this.....thing? "So sorry...am looking for...Kara'nin yes?" ~~~>Blasphemous fool!<~~~ his mind berated him ~~~>Even if this is not a messenger from the most high...you are making yourself seem like an absolute bumbling fool.<~~~~

"Sema," Cutter nodded, "That's, uh, that's me."

"Ummm Soy Miguel Antonio Sandoval, Classe de '81...Is reporting for science yes?"

Again, Cutter nodded, "I think we covered that, already." He stepped backwards into his office and sat on the corner of his desk, trying to shrink his hieght slightly. His wings rotated back as much as they could trying to be, for Miguel's perspective, one thin mass behind Cutter. "You're the new Chief Botanist."

"Chief? No. Am making mistake? Just scientist...not being Chief Botany. Am being Young."

This man's English was about as good as Arkedi's. Cutter thought briefly about introducing the two, but that probably wasn't a good idea, since Arkedi had wings too. "Well, I think you got a promotion because I'm told you are the new Chief Botanist. Its, uh, a small department, maybe you are the only commissioned officer in it, I don't know. I'm Chief of Science, but that only means I have some logistical and administrative duties. I'm actually Chief of Astrophysics. Every science department is separate - you have your own labs, your own crew, most of your own machinery. You are in charge of organizing that for Botany as well as organizing the research questions your department pursues, but, you know, you can just let everyone be. I'm sure everyone down there is used to each other, so, it won't be any real responsibility. If anyone wants to use the external sensors or community equipment or, uh, anything like that, you have to submit a request to me. Understand?"

At first Miguel's ego and hope soared as he found out that yes he would actually be heading the entire Department. Chief of Botany aboard a Starship, and so soon after Graduation.

On second thought however his grin faltered a bit. Why in the world would somebody take a green fresh-out-of-the-Academy Ensign to be the head over an entire Department unless.......

~~~....unless they really don't care one iota about the Department to begin with. ~~~ Miguel concluded.

If a fresh Ensign was the Senior most member of Botany and Ecology......then who in the world has been running the show up to this point?

Miguel's smile faded completely now and he considered the immense starship about him. USS Galaxy. Starfleet's newest Battleship.

Not Science vessel

Not Research Station

But Battleship.

Slowly Miguel began to realize that all the polite words and fake honors aside, he was being relegated to a dead department and would be promptly forgotten by the powers that be aboard the Galaxy.

He sighed and returned his attention to what the Fruna'lin was saying.

"Have you been down there yet?" Cutter asked, and before Miguel could respond continued, "I assume not, since you didn't know you were chief, huh? I can take you down there, if you want."

Still contemplating his plight Miguel waffled for a bit. On one hand he was eager to get down and scope out his new kingdom, but in the light of his recent discoveries he was almost afraid of what he would find.

The potted rose stump suddenly seemed quite heavy in his arms.

"Ah...no...no gracias Senor....Am needing to find my quarters and...." he shrugged, "drop off some things.

"You haven't been to your quarters yet?" Cutter repeated, slightly surprised.

"Ah no....no Senor. Am not being to room yet. Am getting roommate?" Miguel was wondering about that ever since he saw the sheer size of the Galaxy. Perhaps he earned some privacy after Graduation, although he supposed that was not the case. Privately.....and a bit shamefully.... he hoped for a human roomie.

"Oh, I, uh, I don't know. Senior officer tend to get their own room, but I don't know what OPS considers you. They may have given you a roommate to help orientate you. I don't know. Why haven't you been to your room yet?"

Not knowing if he had somehow committed a procedural gaff, Miguel decided to feign ignorance and merely shrug.

Cutter made a small noise of understanding and laughed. "Don't worry. This ship gets small really quick. I know that more than anyone," Cutter said, flashing his wings a bit without thinking.

The fluttering wings from the Angel-like being distracted Miguel slightly. Inside his instincts were raging a battle amongst themselves as how to react.

On the one hand his religious upbringing almost demanded he fall down and honor a messenger from on high, while on the other a feeling of nausea at the false angel's appearance was strong.

~~~Lucifer too was a False Angelic being.~~~ the thought rose unbidden from the depths of his memory.

"Ah ....si...am going now sir. Am needing to find room and find lab yes? Anything else?"

"I need something else? Oh! Do I? Um, no, I don't think so. If you want help finding anything, you can come to me," Cutter offered again, "Also, there is a department chief meeting later this week...Thursday? You will receive a memo about it, be sure to check them."

Cutter thought for another moment, looking over the young ensign, thinking about his reaction to the news of his position. He seemed worried, Cutter wasn't sure if he should tell him this or not, it could make the human more worried. "There is one more thing," he started, catching Miguel as he began to leave, "The founding mission of Starfleet is 'to boldly go where no one has gone before.' Its supposed to be a largely scientific entity. Starships, like the Galaxy, are supposed to be big, expensive scientific probes built from Federation resources because they normally can't be afforded by single universities. But, you humans tend to be ... aggressive. Science tends to fall to the background. And it certainly isn't helpful that bureaucrats and politicians don't understand science. It is now your job to bring it forward and make it important, at least on this ship; bring it forward and make sure it stays there."

Miguel didn't quite like the way that Cutter was seeming to read his thoughts, and most especially did not like the use of the phrase 'you humans.' He was half tempted to say something about how the Federation would fall apart without the humans, but bit his tongue.

Obviously there was nothing Angelic about this winged imposter.

"Si Senor.......whatever you say."

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