"Without Further Interruptions"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security,
USS Galaxy

Location: Main Office, Security

Note: Happened after our upcoming Corgan/Tekri post. Oh, this story's long. Better get a cool drink for this one.

He had many fingers pulling many strings.

Corgan's Federation-wide dragnet searched through billions of gigaquads of information gathered at every outpost, border crossing, and transit station. In his search, millions of tiny branches extended out, each with information that could prove to be the breakthrough, or just another few bytes of useless data.

The Federation Information Technology Services had computers everywhere. On every home planet, colony, outpost. Starfleet was linked to this service, making every shuttle with a rudimentary LCARS system (much less a goliath of a starship with its own impressive, number slaying computer core) a computerized beacon in the dark of space.

The transit time of information in subspace still had its delays, and with billions of gigaquads of info, one had to make his searches count. Rather than bring in all the data to the USS Galaxy, the search parameters were already sent to each sub-station. The sub-stations, in turn, were linked to even smaller sub-stations. The branches kept splitting for several different levels, until it reached even the small servers at the spaceports. When finding the information under the search parameters, it was then shuttled back up the tree, then all gathered and processed at the main server complex on Vulcan or Paris, Earth (being that the FITS network was a matrix, and that many tasks were divided up for efficiency's sake), and then sent to the USS Galaxy for James to wade through.

The whole Federation was Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan's haystack. Though a daunting and impossible task at first, it didn't seem so difficult once one figured out that finding the needle was easy when one used a metal detector.

And still nothing. As far as the Federation was concerned, Commander Rebecca Von Ernst was a non-person. Her file and personal information indicated she was still in existence, but as far as FITS was concerned, she had no footprint.

BUPERS was no help either. While James sighed at the futility of his search, he seriously considered cancelling his investigation. Love wasn't enough to find Rebecca. For now, he had nothing, and no other way to go.

At least that was what he was thinking… until the sudden tap of information went dry.

"What the..." His eye glanced at the sudden stoppage of information on his screen.

=/\=Incoming Transmission from The Gryphon Coalition=/\= "About time," James diverted his attention from the sudden glut of information. Perhaps it was Gryphon Primus' Police Chief Randal Bremer, who promised James a tour of the Gryphon Arbiter's Service (or G.A.S.), as well as give him the invitation to a symposium on counter-terrorism in the Gryphon Coalition.

The screen flickered on, but the face was not that of the aged police chief.

What looked back was the opposite in many ways. It was not a man, but a woman, and a lovely one at that (considering James standards, now skewed by the sheer number of beautiful women besieging him at every turn, this was quite a compliment!). She was not human, but a second female variant Andorian.

It felt as if his heart was squeezed by an iron gauntlet

"Commander Corgan." Greeted Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora, the councel president of The Gryphon Coalition. But no longer the meek, mild mannered Mika that kept her confidence and power hidden from her superiors, she was now an Ambassador, and free to express her power and charisma as she saw fit. Her clothing, from James' last recollection, was just as flamboyant. She was wearing the Andorian kimono style dress, a bright orange piece with silken blue cuffs and sashes. It was exquisite for an Ambassador, and hugged each of her feminine curves lovingly. Her alabaster hair was cropped short, with bangs that stopped short of her sharpened eyebrows.

The joy in her heart to see James Corgan was the same as the bluish blush on her aquamarine skin. Bright and unrestrained.

“Mika!” James smiled back with a nod of courtesy. The distraction was untimely, but welcome. “How are you doing? I’m so glad to see you!”

“Likewise, James. I’ve done well for myself… I’m a full Ambassador now. I do not have to answer to Ordos. But you… have you changed much?”

It had been a long time since he’d seen Ambassador sh’Sonora, and then she was the deputy ambassador to the Federation Consulate on lanjep. Her master was Ordos, a pompous, corrupt diplomat who’s girth was a testament to the luxury in which he abused. As soon as Ordos’ corruption was uncovered, it was up to his overworked, abused assistant to take over the Consulate. Once meek, but now confident and bold, she held those traits dear while still keeping a calm, gentle demeanour.

James and Mika got along famously, seeing each other’s personalities compliment each other during the Lanjep crisis. If it wasn’t for a relationship with then girlfriend Electra Reece, James and Mika may have well ended up with each other.

“Not much…” James sighed, “But now I’m the security chief. I’ve upgraded my training… been promoted… and have been here for quite some time. But you… how in the hell did you end up here?”

Mika’s laugh was flirtatiously musical. “Here? In the middle of nowhere? Most of the diplomats are out in larger centres, trying to keep the diplomatic brushfires down. Fact is… we’re understaffed. I was rushed out of the ‘lanjep consulate to take care of the crisis here. But hey… I’m doing a lot more here than stagnating at a Consulate on a resort planet. I don’t mind at all.”

“Oh… well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing alright. I hope you’re handling the pressures here well.”

Mika shrugged, “Precarious at best, and it’s going to be harder to balance with the Galaxy around. We’ll have security, but we’ll have more suspicion. But with Captain Brhode gone, we should be fine. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. But listen, I have to keep this short due to business. I wanted to call you to see if you were available for a social visit.”

”Mika… I’d love to.”

”Good! I know a place in the main city. There’s not much for amenities here in The Gryphon Coalition, but the Charlemagne Bistro is in a secure part of the city, and they make an incredible Vinaigrette Salad. Come visit today… after your shift is out. I can meet you after my meeting with the resource minister.”

”Sounds like a date, Mika. I’ll see you there.” He promised.

“Great! Oh, and James… it’s good to see you again.” That was her final words, before the LCARS screen flicked off.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Women to the left, women to the right. The most eligible bachelor on the ship now, and it seemed that every woman he encountered was out to get him.

Mika was no different, though she was an older encounter. Most men hated James for the rumours of a surplus of breed-able females. Who could blame them? Many men did not have the same chances. Problem was, James was a magnet for women whom always had a catch, and it was his code of honour and hapless bad luck which made it a detriment.

He also loathed to get rid of them.

As he thought of how to let Mika down, and try to get rid of her (though he didn’t want to). It was close to lunch, and he was incredibly famished after many hours of work. Then there was the mystery of his halted information search… but that could wait until lunch.

Another message interrupted James and his growling stomach.

=/\=”Incoming text message.”=/\= The computer warbled, with its haughty, female voice.

~”Geez…”~ The vexed Security Chief shook his head, ”Even the computer is a woman, and she demands my attention. Put the message through to my console.”

The letter displayed on his screen. The name itself sent another iron gripped stranglehold in his chest.

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

February 22, 2381

Dear Jimmy Corgan,

I don't know if you remember me, and I am probably acting quite silly-headed by bothering you like this, but I wanted to get in touch with some of my daughter's friends.

I remember how you were always real sweet to my little Funny-Face and I figured you could help me out with a problem I'm having.

Unfortunately it seems that the Communication channels have been acting all 'foofy' for almost 6 weeks now, and I just have not been able to get in touch with my little Rebecca.

I wonder if you wouldn't mind running down the hallway, (or corridor or whatever you call it) and knock on her door and tell her to call her Fuddy-duddy mother once in a while.

I know she is all busy and everything being XO (or ZO or whatever those silly letters mean), but it would still be nice to hear from her.

Also I'm a bit worried about her finances....I have noticed she has been withdrawing large amounts from her Savings account set up by that Lysander fellow, and I am wondering if she ran into some money problems. Don't embarrass her, but if she is in a spot, I'd be happy to wire her some money. Anyhow I'm just being a worrywart. Thanks in advance Jimmy for being such a Doll. Drop by the Farm anytime you are in the neighborhood. Love Hollance von Ernst PO NET XQ238TZ Minnesota, Earth.

P.S. Say Hello to that little girlfriend of your Electra for me. Rebecca told me you were a cute couple.

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

“OH… sh*t.” Corgan fretted, shooting out of the chair to pace frantically, “Oh sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!” In his search for Rebecca Von Ernst, he forgot about her kindly, yet maternally stifling mother, Holli. “What the hell am I going to tell her?”

Corgan focus on tasks could usually be counteracted by his shortsightedness. He just forgot that Rebecca’s mother would be worried. Who knew what else or whom else Rebecca was frightening with her disappearance?

The random thoughts swirled about. Somewhere in the maelstrom of information, there was a connection he was missing, or a source he was not using but overlooked nonetheless. There was something out there…

~”Come on!”~ James huffed impatiently, ~”Her mother’s depending on this! Wait… her mother… her mother… she can….”~

In the rush to get back to his console, he tripped over his office chair. He scrambled himself up, ignoring the pain in his knee from hitting the corner of his desk, climbed up his chair, and sat down, his fingers already flying uncontrollably on the keyboard.

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

Dear Mrs. Von Ernst

I am not sure about the location of your daughter. She has been off the ship for the past few months. I do not know where she has been reassigned. BUPERS has not revealed her location to me, though I have tried multiple times. I have been told that her whereabouts are classified, but I have the feeling that I’m being stonewalled.

I am sorry that I have not kept contact with you during the past couple of years. Many things have changed during that time. I do not have time to fill you in now. I’ll tell you what, the next time I come to Earth, I’ll come to visit and I’ll let you know everything that is going on. I do, however, fell terrible about keeping you in the dark. I thought your daughter would have told you she was transferred.

I thought she would tell me as well. She didn’t even let me know she transferred to Wolf 359’s Advanced Tactical School. I suppose if she didn’t tell you, I should expect the same treatment.

If you want to see your daughter again, I want you to do me a favour. Since you have access to her transaction records, I want you to find out where that money is going. The Bank of the Federation will give you the records easily as long as you give ID and your FSIN number.

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

~”There is hope!”~ James’ heart swelled with lighthearted joy, almost until he had to burst out with a smile and a scream of triumph, ~”’Becca, I’m going to find you! Just you wait!”

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

Mrs. Von Ernst, you do not know how timely your message has been. You’re my best chance at finding her. Send those transaction records to me as soon as possible!

With kind regards.

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan,
Chief of Security,
USS Galaxy
PO Net EC921RY
Starfleet Exploration Command,
USS Galaxy

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

“YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The security chief jumped out of his chair, propelling himself a metre up in the air while thrusting his fist upwards. Between the thump of his feet hitting the floor and the exuberantly vocal celebration, the security officers outside his office glanced briefly and shrugged, confused. It wasn’t unusual hearing a loud noise from his office, so passionate he could be. The fact that it was joyful threw off their game of predicting exactly what was going on.

James felt like celebrating. No, celebrating was imperative! His last bottle of alcohol was gone thanks to a disastrous date. Perhaps now he could convince the Ten Forward staff to let him at the Saurian Brandy? Though not in the habit of drinking, finding a hot trail to a case colder than Rebecca’s libido in ice queen mode was definitely a good excuse.

But first, what happened to that cut off transmission?

He shrugged without a care, and a huge pearly smile. For the first time in months, he felt unrepressed happiness. A little halted search, one that was doing nothing for him, could wait. It was time to celebrate!

=/\=”Incoming Transmission!”=/\=

The computer had other plans.

“Oh… now what?!?!” He snapped back impatiently, but laughed the interruption off. “Fine. Patch it to my console. Let’s make this quick.”

The new face staring back was a security officer, with the same pips as he. The new man was stone faced, with a jaw chiselled from limestone. His brown eyes reflected his stoney appearance, as did the square cut, salt and pepper hair. A scar from his cheek was familiar; it appeared to be a bayonets wound, most likely from the Dominion War (Jem’Hadar tended to use bayonets extensively). His mouth was set in a neutral frown.

A serious customer. Must have been too much of a contrast compared to a smiling Corgan.

“How may I help you, Lieutenant Commander Brenner?” James greeted his counterpart at the Wolf 359 Station. He had talked to the security officer numerous times about Rebecca and her whereabouts. Every time, Brenner stated security reasons, and didn’t mention where Von Ernst was. He was the first brick in James Corgan’s stone wall that was his search. Not one of Corgan’s favourite characters.

But with a new breakthrough, he didn’t need to talk to Lieutenant Commander Brenner anymore.

“Lieutenant Commander Corgan?” Brenner started, waiting for a response.

James gave him what he wanted. “Yes?”

”Have you noticed that your dragnet program has recently halted?”

Whatever smile was left, James felt it melt away as a giant, leaden ball, and it went straight to his bowels in a painful knot.

“You…”

”Shut it off, Lieutenant Commander Corgan. I also have to complete a request, sent to me by the Superintendent of this school, which I have naturally authorized.”

The stomach knot worked its way deeper into his system. “What is it?”

Brenner read from a PADD, while droning in a slatelike voice, “Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan, due to section 989 of the Starfleet Informations Confidenciality Act, you have been asked to cease and desist all inquiries into Commander Rebecca Von Ernst, for her personal information and whereabouts as assigned by Starfleet Command has been categorized as ‘Above Top Secret’ information.”

The knot loosened itself. Now there was a boiling anger and a deep seeded desire to shove the orders up Brenner in the approximate place where he felt the knot.

“THIS IS BULLSH*T!” Corgan let loose his verbal assault, “LIKE F**K YOU CAN STOP ME, @$$HOLE! This is a f**king missing person’s case! I’ll search if I please! Now get the f**k off my transmission line and give me the right to do my search!!!!!!”

”I can’t do that, Commander.” Brenner flipped over the PADD for James to view, “The orders have been signed by Admiral Jurgen Hoth. You try to disobey the orders, and you’ll end up being brought on charges of disobedience, treason, accessing classified documents, and… disorderly conduct to a fellow officer, thanks to your foul mouth.”

”F**K YOU!” Corgan’s fist slammed the desk, shaking the foundation hard enough to be heard outside, “I’ll give you disorderly conduct by kicking it right up your f**king @$$ if you get in my f**king way! So f**k off!!!”

“Have it your way…” Lieutenant Brenner smiled. His confidence was feeding James’ rage even more. “However, if we find you searching for Commander Von Ernst, you will be charged and thrown in the stockade. You’ll have to say goodbye to your starship… your home, your friends. You’ll be a pariah in Starfleet, even the whole Federation.”

Brenner folded his arms, and pointed to Admiral Jurgen Hoth’s signature on the PADD, “He can make it happen. You’ve come too close to our liking, and we don’t find it cute anymore. Walk away.”

The screen flicked off a final time. There was nothing but dead silence on the screen.

~”So close…”~ Thought the security chief, between images of destroying Brenner and the worries of losing his chance at finding Rebecca ever again. Like before, outside her quarters, willing to bear his heart to her, he was so dreadfully close. All the times she laughed at his jokes, opened up to him, the times he told her things that most people could not gain the trust to learn from him. They were once close. He was so close. It could have all come back again.

But like the time he wanted to confess his love, there was another obstacle.

And it all centered around an Admiral and his pet Commander.

An Admiral keeping his love away from him.

“Ohhhhhhh….” His bellow charged up, gathering every bit of frustration he could bunch up to hurl out a final, therapeutic expression of anger and loss.

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

The security office.

"FFFFFFFFFF************************************************KKKKK!!!!"

The longest expletive ever uttered in the history of extensive expletives uttered from the hell borne mouth of James Lionel Corgan happened on this Stardate, 50404.5.

It lasted for 26.3 seconds (as noted by Lieutenant T’lan, and though her Vulcan calm usually kept a strong shield against Corgan’s verbal kamehameha’s, this one brought a sickly green shade to her face). A few weeks later, there would be a plaque erected by the security crew for that feat.

Outside the office, a civilian astrophysicist from Andoria went into labor from the sheer shock of the foul word travelling through the halls. A baby boy was born (later noted for being a foul mouthed security officer during his adulthood), and his middle name became ‘Firetruck’ (it was the only way to politely mark the occasion).

It also caused Mrs. Davidson from the armory crew next door to drop a plasma grenade, in which Sergeant Mattleau of the marines was fast enough to put the pin back in, barely averting a disastrous explosion.

Ensign Denise Richardson was carrying a stack of PADDS full of reports when the expletive caused her to stumble back in fear, also resulting in her falling face first onto the floor, scattering the PADDS all over the office. Ensign Johanson MacVenner came to the damsel’s rescue, and helped gather the reports.

Mr and Mrs Mattleau, as well as Mr and Mrs MacVenner, ended up marrying on the same day, six months later. James Corgan presided over the ceremony.

But did it find Rebecca, or damn his career?

"Swordplay"

Saladin Bolivar
Ahdjiia D'tinya-Bolivar

=Holodeck two=

Saladin streached out on the holdeck. He had told Ahdjiia to meet him here, with all their intimacy and lovemaking he had not taught her the sword play that he kept promising.

He had two swords waiting for them and he waited silently for his wife to arrive.

Ahdjiia strode in, clad in simple workout attire. She wore a silvery web patterned mantilla that bound her hair in place.

He rose and walked over to her. Then he kissed her lips gently. "Thank you for coming..."

"I was thinking we'd both be in our dotage by the time you provided on your promise.", she smiled.

"I cannot help it, I was distracted by your beauty and the many times we make love...." Then he slipped his arms around her and kissed her passionately.

She returned his kiss and smiled, "And why do I feel that the blade lessons will be delayed again."

"Because you think I will make love to you now..." He then handed her a blade, "The lovemaking will be delayed because I hae been negligent in not teaching you earlier."

"My opinion comes from proven experience.", she said as she took the blade and tested it's weight and balance with a few swings.

He nodded, "Though I have not complained about the experience." Then he took a ready position and with surprising speed he drew his blade.

Ahdjiia just chuckled and copied his position.

He moved beside her and showed her how to hold the blade. "The secret to this is to strike first, don't let your opponant get a swing in."

"Like this?", she said as she swung to swat his rear with the flat of the blade.

However Saladin lept rapidly, his blade swung down and blocked her blade then rotated the sword resting the flat of the blade against her throat, an automatic and fluid motion. There was a bit of a look in his eyes that was a warrior's eyes. Before he paused, then smiled sheepishly, "like that..."

"At least I was aiming for your bottom.", she said.

"I was trained from when I could walk in the ways of bushido, the follow through was...standard."

"I only had Starfleet training.", she said, "Martial arts are not concidered polite on Chrysalia."

"Well then we can start from the beginning, with the sword...."

"I know some of the basics, though nothing on your level."

"Few people are at my level." He said frankly then let her take the start position, "I will give you an opponant and critique your attack."

Ahdjiia nodded and a distinguished going to grey man dressed in black with a cloak materialized before her with a saber in hand. He saluted her and assumed a defensive position.

She copied it and the duel began.

Her time on Saladin's world had helped, but she still had a ways to go as she and her sparring partner riposted and lunged.

Saladin watched as she moved with a fluid grace, the blade struck out and his trained eyes studied her form already noting several rooms for improvement.

Ahdjiia kept up her sparring, waiting for when Saladin had seen enough.

Then he paused and spoke, "Pause simulation..."

The duellist froze as he was about to lunge and Ahdjiia let her blade drop, and caught her breath.

"Your stance was weak to the right side." He nodded to her, "It left an opening that could be exploited." He looked at her then corrected her stance, "now lunge again..."

"It is probably because I am left-handed.", she said as she altered her stance and tried the lunge.

"That woudl do it." He batted her sword away, "better. You learn fast."

"My benefactor encouraged it when we travelled together.", she smiled.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Some things he preferred not to know.

She chuckled, "He said it was more think fast on your feet and you'll go

far."

"You will." he kissed her gently, "Now let's try again."

Ahdjiia took up her position again.

He stepped back and watched as the duelist took his position. THen he moved back, "ready?"

"Yes."

"Begin."

The regal seeming sparring partner saluted once again, and the duel began anew. Ahdjiia did her best against him, this time using what Saladin had corrected her on.

This time the duelist was dispatched and he watched her with a satisfied smile.

"Did I make any errors?", she asked as she lowered her blade.

"you defeated him didn't you?"

"True, but I still could have made an error."

"Minor things which can be corrected with time." He said honestly, "But you have a strong grasp of the fundmentals."

"Considering my department, I should hope so.", Ahdjiia teased.

Saladin smiled and took her hand, "Your skills are admirable. How is the baby feeling?"

"As active as an eggsack about to open.", she smiled.

He put his hand on her belly and smiled softly, "Our child will grow strong, be a proud beare of our traditions."

"I can leave Chrysalia behind.", she said, "They would not accept him because of me. To them, I don't exist so therefore he cannot be of Chrysalian lineage."

He interlaced his fingers with hers and kissed her lips softly, "we will raise him as our child."

"I wouldn't have it any other way.", she smiled.

He kissed her again and hugged her, "Neither would I love."

"Well maybe a small interruption"

Starring

ENS Miguel Sandoval

(OOC: Takes place at the same time as James Corgan's infamous scream of despair......I just could not resist a quick comment)

The key to splicing in a fresh shoot off a Pomerian Variable Fern was a keen eye and a steady hand. The infamously fragile Blechanae was one of a rare breed of 'phase-plants' which were composed almost entirely of unstable molecules along their amino acid chains.

While this made for an awe-inspiring delicate beauty, it also meant that the slightest damage to the wispsy leaves could cause the whole plant to self destruct into one long rapidly unraveling chain of molecules.

Understandably therefore, Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandovals was a bit nervous as he made subtle adjustments to the micro-forcepts in his sweaty palms.

">Almost there little one<" he barely whispered, ">One more cellular bonding and you will be whole again.<"

Miguel hardly dared breath. He had seen the procedure done several time at the Academy, but each of his own three previous attempts had ended in failure leaving him with nothing more than a sticky pool of cellulose-ooze.

">Almost there...........<"

Miguel's fingers glistened with sweat from his concentration.

">Almost there...........<"

Just a few more genetic splices to be made and.......

>>FFFFFUUUU........................................................... .....UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<<<

The tormented shriek of a lost soul echoed from somewhere in the depths of the USS GALAXY and startled the poor Botanist so badly that his hands jumped.

">Madre de Dios no!<" he gasped as before his eyes the lightning fast chain-reaction of the Fern's molecules coming unzipped rapidly consumed the plant in a soft halo of light.

Within a few seconds more the annoyingly familiar puddle of genetic ooze decorated poor Miguel's lab table and he was left with naught but an empty pair of forceps.

~~~Where in the name of the blessed Madonna did that scream come from.~~~ he wondered.

"Spider Lady - The First Interview"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Team Leader/Director

& Lt. JG Ahdjiia D'Tinya
Security Officer

----

Why did it have to be spiders? I like to say that I laugh at fear - ha, ha. However, when it comes to creepy-crawlies I definitely get the willies. My first interview is with one Ahdjiia D'Tinya, a Chrysalian who also happens to be spider crazy. Personally, I suspect it's a fault of the species but to each his or her own. Still, I have to wonder, considering I'm going to be going right into the metaphorical spider's web, why on earth did I choose to start with this one?

----

Emmett Bregman crossed his legs comfortably as he leaned back into his chair. His subject was seated across from him in clear view of Dale's camera. The lighting was perfect, thankfully. He hated the washed out look that sometimes came to pass thanks to either incorrect placement of the implements or the shadows cast by objects in the room. With a warm smile, cultivated, of course, by years as a journalist, Emmett spoke, "I'd like to thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Lieutenant."

Ahdjiia was in her uniform, though she did have a simple web patterned barrette clip on to hold her hair back. "With as politely worded request as was sent, how could I not?", she said with a faint smile.

"Why don't you tell me about exactly what you do here on the Galaxy?"

"I am a Security Officer. I am in charge of Gamma Shift which mostly entails tending to the PADDwork from the earlier shifts, standard walk arounds of the ship as well as maintaining that we are prepared in case something unexpected happens. While that does not happen often, when it has, we have been read for such."

Emmett nodded thoughtfully, "Could you share an instance where things have not gone as expected? Any insight into your position, and some of the extraordinary things that Starfleet crewmembers have done would be appreciated." He gestured for Dale to turn the camera slightly to make certain he got every nuance of the Chrysalian's expression and words.

Ahdjiia pursed her lips in thought before she spoke, "We did once apprehend a criminal who in turn was being pursued by Orions who insisted he slighted them in an underhand dealing. They were persistent enough to attack and board the ship. From what I know of them, such an action is rarely used, yet we were prepared for when they boarded and swiftly secured them in the brig."

The memories of Harry Mudd with those damned fembots were still fairly fresh despite how long ago it had been. Of course having to organize the space in the brig considering how many crew they had there along with the pirates was enough to put a grey hair on anyone's head at that time.

"As for extraordinary things...I wish I could say but those are still under classified by Starfleet until they clear the logs for public domain."

Emmett nodded, that was one of the favored lines of his interviewees. Classified. You're not in the need to know. Yadda, yadda. "I understand, Lieutenant. How do you feel being assigned to the Galaxy? Her name is well known throughout the Federation. Do you feel that you have to 'live up' to a standard being assigned to this starship?"

"I was surprised to be assigned to the ship.", she admitted, "I always felt one had to do something distinguishing to be sent to the flagship, and my last posting was rather tame. I have felt like I must strive for above and beyond my usual acceptable performance from time to time, but as long as I am true to myself, that is all I can do."

"That's all any of us can do," Bregman was being particularly kind during this interview, which he did know how to be sometimes. "Why don't you tell me how you like your position and Starfleet itself?"

"I am pleased with my position on the ship, it is far different than what I would have expected for myself when I was a child.", she said with one of her enigmatic smiles, "As for Starfleet, I can't imagine being anywhere else. I've seen more things, met more sentients, learned so much more than if I had just stayed on my homeworld. I've never regretted my choice to join even with the more disturbing aspects of having to defend ourselves. The benefits far outweigh the unpleasantness."

"What do you think your life would have been like had you not joined Starfleet? Do you have any regrets?"

"I would have ended up either a spinner of fabrics or a tender of crops had I stayed on my homeworld.", Ahdjiia said simply, knowing exactly what her family would have needed for the Synneth, "Regrets...I do regret that some sentients can be so stubborn as to not see when there are times when change is a good thing to experience."

"Sentients...being your people?"

"They are definitely included, but I've met others who share the same mindset."

"I see," Emmett shuffled a few papers in his hand - unlike many of his contemporaries, he preferred paper to a PADD. "Why did you decide to join Starfleet?"

"It was more stable than just traveling around the galaxy seeing things scattery.", she said, "I have done far better for myself joining Starfleet than if I had been just on my own."

"Why do you think that being in Starfleet, let alone on this particular Starship, has done 'better' for you than simply being a traveler through our universe?" Emmett asked.

"They both have their benefits and downfalls, but I would have to say that being here has been the more beneficial for me. I have made friends with those I might not have even approached before I joined, as well as vice versa.", Ahdjiia said then chuckled softly, "And the steady assurance of a comfortable bed and quarters that also add to the charm over knocking about space."

"Ah the truth will out. It's the beds, ladies and gentlemen," Emmett expounded. How much of this *could* he use in the documentary? Let alone something exciting for the viewers. He really wasn't certain.

Ahdjiia chuckled at the joke and smiled, only to have her Talarian hook spider finally shuffle out of the discreet creche she had for them to not frighten the reporters. It skittered over to the two and easily hooked itself up Ahdjiia until she held it in her arms while it curled up it's legs to now look at the newcomers.

Emmett, at least, was more decorous about his reaction to the Shelob-like creature - damn wife number one for that reference the woman was Tolkien crazy. He merely swallowed nervously and valiantly kept his composure.

Dale was not as decorous. Letting out a yelp that was certain to have woken the dead on the ship - provided there was any dead - he dropped the camera and tried to meld himself into the wall in an attempt to get as far away from the spider as possible.

"Damnit, Dale," Emmett sighed - it really was hard to find good help these days. "Get back here and pick up the camera."

"It's...it's..." Dale was gibbering.

Bregman suppressed the urge to hit his head with the palm of his hand, "Dale, NOW."

The Ensign immediately skittered back to his camera but made sure to keep the director between himself and the spider.

"Who," his voice actually squeaked slightly. Swallowing decisively, Emmett continued, "Who's your friend?" There, much better.

Ahdjiia smiled, quite used to the nervous reactions of others around her spiders. "One of my Little Ones. Part of my Faith is sharing my life with them.", she said as she gently scritched the spider's back.

The spider started to arch up for better scritching, it's legs starting to droop in contentment.

Excellent, an angle. Even if it had to be courtesy of the creepy-crawlie, "Have you found Starfleet in general, and your crewmates in particular, receptive to your practicing your faith here? Also, have your spiders ever...well, gotten loose?"

"There were some rough spots during my Academy days, but once I graduated and started my postings, there was more understanding.", she said, still giving the spider scritches, "I have always been open about my Faith and there has been no problems with that, and my Little Ones are quite content to stay in the quarters."

Ahdjiia looked at Emmet, "Would you like to pet her?"

Bregman swallowed nervously. Ex-wife number five - the shrink - insisted that he would have to confront his fears by petting them, or whatever. When she had tried to get him over his fear of snakes, he got bitten by a Cobra. Luckily, there was anti-venom available - but it was enough to steer him away from that type of confrontation. But this spider looked relatively harmless. Big and furry, but harmless. Emmett nodded slightly and leaned forward to scratch the spider rather tentatively, ready to jerk back the moment it decided it didn't like him. Rather like ex-wife number two.

If it were possible for spider eyes to roll up in their head, it happened as Emmet started to pet the Hook spider. It went limp, only moving one of it's legs to hold his hand back to keep petting when he first tried to move. Thankfully Ahdjiia delicately took control of the situation for him to regain his seat.

"Anyway," he continued, once he had returned to his seat, "I think that tops my afternoon. I'd like to thank you for your time, Lieutenant. I appreciate your speaking with us despite your busy schedule."

"I thank you for the chance to be able to speak.", she said with a soft smile, "This was most enjoyable."

Emmett smiled in return before signaling Dale to turn off the camera. The interview was now over...

------

So, maybe I was wrong. Not all spiders are that bad, though I must say I'm still going to be keeping my distance. For a first interview, I'm satisfied - though I must keep up hopes that somehow, someway, I'll get what I like to term a 'meaty' interview. Something exciting, something to get the kids excited back home about Starfleet or something like that. I'd have to think on what could be done...for while spider lady was great, there was only so much I can use from one interview.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I found an old vid series that I want to watch for a while.

"Spiderman, spiderman, he does all that a spider can...."

"Gag order...."

Maj Saladin Bolivar
NALDC Liason
Chief Intel

=Intelligance offices=

He flipped through the monitor and studied the screens. Information was flowing in. His strategy of letting his staff brainstorm without seeming to take charge worked amazingly.

He had heard soemthing about the reporter on board asking for interviews.

That was ridiculious, talking to some reporter that was an intelligance trap he woudl be damned if he woudl fall in to.

He got up and headed to his quarters. He woudl have to talk to Ahdjiia and inform her that this family would give no interviews, not about the ship, not about their marriage, not about their baby, nothing.

To speak to a reporter would put them at unreasonable risk.

Walking in he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. The spiders came out of hiding and he began to feed the Talarian hook spider.

"Strange Paths"

Starring:

Ens. Miguel Antonio Sandoval

(OOC: This is my own interpretation of the Lammergeir Asteroid interior, I realize that some may or may not like my views on things, and may want to totally change the cityscape. Thats fine. We can just assume that Miguel is exploring a different portion that everybody else. But if you like my ideas....feel free to play with them and expand them.)

=/\=

With the 'clomp clomp clomp' of his Fleet issued boots on the springy metal deck of the Lammergeir Gangway, Miguel made the last turn towards stepping off the USS Galaxy and onto the strange Asteroid World.

Over his basic Starfleet blacks, Miguel had donned a heavy Environmental Jacket whose dozens of large pockets were crammed with various scientific equipment ranging from soil-analyzers to microgenetic-sequencers to basic Nutrition bars. Across one shoulder a similarly stuffed black duffle-bag carried even more tools of scientific inquiry along with various other pieces of gear and supplies.

Technically this was Miguel's first "Away Mission" although seeing as he was walking down the gangway rather than 'beaming-down' made the experience seem a bit anticlimactic.

The bored looking Marine standing at the end of the plank didn't add much to the atmosphere either. He barely looked up at the Botanist and instead consulted a PADD while inquiring about his name and duty aboard the Asteroid.

"Ensign Sandoval, from Scientific Division." Miguel replied in perfect English. For the purposes of this trip the young officer had reluctantly decided to take along a universal translator so that he wouldn't miss out on important details.

"Shore Leave or Duty assignment?" the Marine drolled as he ticked off another box on his PADD. His query was quickly converted into the native Spanish that buzzed in Miguel's tiny earpiece.

"Duty assignment. I'm doing the initial botanical and ecological survey of the proposed terraforming site on the inner asteroids. Im made arangement to meet a representative from the Lammergeir Science Council"

"Simple yes or no will do Mac." The Marine yawned. The nit-picky details were not of any interest to him.

"Ah....well...yes...Duty Assignment."

"Roger that." The Marine checked off his final box and looked at Miguel for the first time. "Ready to go Mac, monitor fleet frequencies at all times in case of a general recall, mind the local customs, and clear any souvenirs with ship quarantine before coming back aboard...thank you ver much and have a nice day."

With that the Guard returned his attention to a holo-zine he'd been perusing and promptly ignored Miguel.

Sighing, the young lad from El Salvador looked down at the little tape marker that divided Starship from Asteroid, and with a deep breath made the step crossing the line. Thus Miguel set foot on another world for the first time in his life. "One small step for man...." he mused to himself as he proceeded into the inner depths of the Lammergeir Asteroid.

<******>

A few dozen meters later, and young Miguel was utterly convinced that the Gyphon residents must be among the most insane persons in the universe.

"Blessed Mother of God....." he breathed to himself, "Do these people not understand the conception of UP and DOWN?"

When one is born and raised in terrestrial settings( as on a planet) , complete with its easily understood rules of gravitation and spacial orientation, it is very easy to get confused once one slips the bonds of such confinements.

The Lammergeir asteroid, although itself a huge floating world that easily dwarfed the tiny USS Galaxy, was still quite small in the cosmic order of things, and thus did not have the luxury of quaint little rules of gravitation.

The Asteroid itself obviously did not have enough mass to support gravity of any significance, so the Gryphon settlers instead had to rely on Grav-Plate technology which when combined with the snaking tunnel-like nature of below ground homes had lead to a community straight out of Salvador Dali's worse nightmares.

All about Miguel stretching in every direction was a spiderweb of walkways and catwalks rising up at impossible angles and twisting their ways through a labyrinth of buildings that seemed to sproaut from the very walls of the Asteroid.

Unconfined by traditional laws of physics, the walkways and streets of the Asteroid interior had no reference to up and down and thus quite often a street would suddenly take a turn 90 degrees straight up a wall. Even worse, that same street would then proceed to bend back on itself again to leave the pedestrian quite upside down from his previous position.

As Miguel stood in a large alcove just off of the main docking level everywhere he gazed he beheld lines of humanity (and inhumanity) snaking their way up and down walls and across ceilings at nauseating angles. The Meandering of the Grav-Plate walkways turning the Lammergeir populace into the modern day equivalents of insects within their hives crawling along the walls and ceilings like so many worker ants.

What made matters worse was the seeming uncaring attitude of the those same pedestrians. Miguel had read a memo somewhere about there being a Festival of sorts going on, and indeed it was true. Swirls of color and light decorated every corner of the immense Lammergeir interior. Laughing couples clad in gaily draped costumes shuffled along the meandering paths taking the impossible detours up the very sides of buildings with nary a second glance.

Other groups, often upside down from one another, would call out their greetings and well wishes, inviting their fellows to "Come on up (or down)" to join the fun.

Open mouthed Miguel leaned back, looking straight up to see the tops of buildings staring back at him from the opposite side of the Asteroid interior. Waves of vertigo and a sense of falling overwhelmed the young lad, and he screwed his eyes shut tightly against the view.

"Sandoval? Mr. Sandoval from the Galaxy?" A strangely accented voice called out forcing Miguel to pry his eyes open again.

"Mr. Sandoval....up here!"

Looking upwards, Miguel saw the figure of a woman, dressed in the typical colorful attire of Gryphon natives waving at him from a street running down the 'wall'.

"Hang on Mr. Sandoval, I'll be right there."

Watching with a sense of nausea, Miguel watched as the stranger calmly walked down the wall, and then skillfully navigated the 90- degree transition on gravity to emerge on Miguel's own plane of reference.

"Mr. Sandoval," the 30-ish woman said again as she stepped before him and extended a hand in greeting. "Dr. Teeda Chhou of the Lammergeir Ecology board. I spoke to you earlier on the Comm-Net."

"Ah yes.....Dr. Chhou." Miguel shook her hand limply, still overwhelmed by the amazing world around him. "You're my liaison regarding the Terraforming Project."

"Exactly," Chhou grinned prettily, her dark eyes flashing. "I must say we're all quite excited that Starfleet has dispatched an Ecologist to give us pointers. We've got a good team, but frankly the amount of expertise you could bring in is most desperately needed."

"Right..."Miguel answered numbly. Wondering if the good Doctor would be disappointed if she realized that he was a raw recruit. "This is....ahhh....an amazing place you got here Dr. Chhou."

"Please call me Teeda," she replied, "and thanks......its pretty overwhelming at first," she agreed leaning back to watch the crowds pass 'overhead'. "I only arrived five years ago, long after the initial wave of colonists, and there are still times I get a little dizzy."

Miguel could only nod and swallow hard.

"Well come on, " the woman invited, linking her arm playfully around Miguel's, "I can show you a thing or two around the big asteroid before we head out to the Terraforming site. Lammergeir is in the middle of its Centennial Celebration, and there are some sites simply not to be missed!"

Miguel allowed himself to be pulled along, weaving their way through an ever increasing crowd of celebrating Gryphon natives. Humanoids of all-types seemed to be present here, and all seemed to be in a festive mood. Gone were the dull dingy work-clothes typical of Deep Space Miners, and instead lustrous cloths of shimmering silk and glistening leathers were in abundance. From somewhere overhead Miguel could make out the sounds of a band playing.

Teeda led him to a turn in the street, that quite literally 'turned' straight up the wall. Painted stripes in yellow and black across the intersection warned of the convergence of the two gravity fields, along with a simple little road sign.

"First thing to learn on Lammergeir is how to take a turn." Teeda giggled slightly noting the horrified expression on Miguel's face. "Looks daunting at first, but it becomes natural once you learn."

With that she let go of Miguel's arm and with a strange shuffling walk, she hurried through the striped-zone twisting 90 degrees to emerge standing on the 'wall' before him.

"Easy as pie." She explained, looking 'up' at Miguel, "Dont go too fast or you'll end up smacking your nose on the perpendicular street. Keep your feet very close to the ground and just kinda 'shuffle' your way through. Your body will naturally lean backwards to compensate for the new gravity field."

Miguel just looked at her dumbly.

"Go on silly," She giggled. "I thought you Starfleet types were trained to 'boldy go' and all that. If it helps, close your eyes.....your body will react more naturally then to changes in balance."

Seeing that as a challenge, Miguel readjusted his heavy Duffle bag, and took a deep breath. Mimicking the strange shuffling walk he observed Teeda perform, he move forward quickly.

As he reached the transition, Miguel became aware of many sensations at once. First and formost was nausea, as neither his stomach nor his inner ear could decide which way was 'up'. Secondly, just as Teeda mentioned, he felt his body naturally leaning backwards as the forward tug of the street in front of him increased. Even more peculiar, the Duffle slung over his shoulder seemed to be pulling out ahead of him as it too became caught in the field running up the wall.

Feet shuffling like mad, Miguel kept moving forward and leaning back until amazingly enough just when he felt he was going to fall over backwards.........he found himself standing perfectly erect beside the smiling Dr. Chhou.

"See. Easy as pie." She giggled.

~~~ Amazing indeed. ~~~ Miguel thought, trying to regain his bearings. Looking 'up' he could see the docking port through which he entered about halfway up the new 'wall'. ~~~Madre de Dios but this would take forever to get used to.~~~

Grabbing his arm again, Chhou urged Miguel onwards. "Come on.....I wanna show you this neat little cafe' before we head out to the terraforming site. It's got the best sugar pastries in the quadrant."

Bewildered with the sights and sounds of this amazing world. Miguel was swirled away into the crowd of laughter, music, and color................"

~Fun with Magnets~

Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Arkedi Nitel'rajek

Zan Lanaka

"<Come on, Cutter>" Zan called back to the winged science officer who was lagging behind. She and Arkedi were several meters ahead of him down the long docking corridor that connected the Galaxy, gently resting on the surface of the asteroid Lammergeir, to the colony buried inside. Cutter didn't understand why she was fussing at him, she, herself, could barely keep up with Arkedi. He was especially eager to get out of the ship and see this new world, his first since coming aboard. Arkedi had a sense of childlike adventure and exploration and curiousity that Cutter had somehow lost over his six or seven years in Starfleet; he sort of envied that.

"<What's the hurry?>" he shouted back in his native Mika'kardi.

"<I want to see the colony,>" Arku explained, "<They say they have a 'Wheel of Fairies'.>"

"<Where?>" Zan asked as she hurried alongside him.

Arkedi gestured down the corridor. "<North, obviously,>" he said, recieving a weak slap in the arm by Zan. There was no north in space, obviously, but Fruna'lin like Cutter, Arkedi and Zan have a special organ inside their heads, milir, which detects magnetic fields and alerts them which way is north. In their language, they didn't refer to things as being ahead, behind, left or right of something, they were north, south, east or west.

Cutter laughed, "<That's a 'Ferris Wheel' not a 'Wheel of Fairies.' Slow down a little bit, Arku. You're not going to want to run out there.>"

"<What is 'Ferris?'>" Arkedi asked, slowing only slightly because of his linguistic curiousity, not because he was heeding any warning from Cutter.

"<I don't know. Some human who took a day off or something. I say again, you're not going to want to run out there.>"

Zan looked back at Cutter, she was confused about Cutter's nonsensical warning, but not so foolhardy as her current mate, so she slowed down and stopped in front of the large tunnel door. Her pause stopped Arkedi as well. "<What do you mean?>"

"<Have you ever been on an asteroid?>" Cutter asked as he sauntered up to the door.

Arkedi looked at him like he was a fool, <"Of course I've been on an asteroid before. You know I did field work in the Edera belt colonies.">

"<Yes, but have you been on a non-Fruna'lin asteroid?>"

"<What does it matter? Is rushing forbidden? A rock is a rock is a rock.>"

Cutter shrugged and reached up to a panel on the wall. He hit a button and the large door split down center and opened up. "<Then your ferris wheel awaits.>"

Arkedi gave one last suspicious glare towards his friend before peering out into the world before him; he was awestruck. Only a small portion of Lammergeir was hollowed out, but the space was still incredibly cavernous. Roads ran across the entire surface of the roughly spherical cavity, bridges criss-crossed out, linking buildings that were jutting out from every possible surface and pylon. Gravity held no force here, but that wouldn't bother any Fruna'lin - they spend thier lives defying the pull of gravity. There was something else, though, that would.

Without dropping his gaze, Arkedi took three quick steps out into the chaotic world, leaving Zan and Cutter behind in the docking corridor. He promptly let out a small startled scream, spun around, on multiple axes, and fell to the ground. "<What the .... ka .... thekh .... ka .... where?>" he spit out, too disoriented form a cohesive thought. Imagine not knowing which way was up, which way was forward, where your left or your right was. Imagine up is both in front of you and to your left, right is ahead and up, forward is in four seperate directions. Imagine they were all swirling about you. On an asteroid made of iron, nickle and cobalt, north is everywhere.

"<Arkedi!>" Zan called out, concerned.

Cutter stopped her, holding her back with his arm; he was laughing, almost uncontrollably. "<I warned you,>" he told Arkedi, then stepping behind Zan and pulling a long strip of white cloth from his knee pocket, held a small metal disc on her forehead and wrapped the cloth around it. "<Here, Zan. Its still disorienting, but at least north is only in one direction at a time.>"

He took another disk out and slipped it into the red headband he was already wearing. Cutter resisted the urge to jerk backwards as his directional sense was suddenly shifted to the artificial magnetic north located on his forehead. There was a third disc in his pocket, he tossed it to Zan and she went out to help Arkedi.

He made another small noise as his directional system was suddenly knocked back into stability and slow rose to his feet. "Cutter, en thekik," he cursed, "<Why didn't you warn me?>"

"<I tried,>" he explained, still laughing, "<not everyone takes the same precautions as Fruna'lin do in setting up thier colonies. It was very funny though, Arku, especially that little noise you made.>"

At this point, Zan started to break down, "<That was pretty good. Can you do that again, Arku? That little yelp?>"

Arkedi slowly alternated his glare between the two giggling Fruna'lin. "<I hate you both.>"

"<So, whose up for the ferris wheel?>"

"Talking with the Scum of the Asteroid Belt" - Part 1

Ensign Paulo DiMillo,
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

"Chang",
Dirt bag of the asteroid belt

**** Type-9 shuttle Heading for the main Asteroid ****

Paulo sat in the small Type-9 shuttle with five other people. They were headed to the main area of the belt. Paulo was dressed in his standard Starfleet uniform with a shoulder bag that contained a few padds with people's names and locations, and a few things to help the thinking along. He wasn't interested in going to any celebrations. He was though interested in getting Intel for his personal quest and to hopefully get more information that the Captain could use in his talks.

The shuttle came up to one of the docking ports and four of them climbed out. The fifth, the pilot, closed the hatch and brought the shuttle back to the Galaxy to pick up a few more people.

Paulo looked around. He had come unarmed, more or less. He had a small Type-1 phaser hidden in his boot. The people he was meeting where more or less scum of the universe, but they had information he needed.

Paulo walked with the three other members of the Galaxy for 50 meters or so, where Paulo took a sharp left into a dark ally. Through one of his own contacts he had been able to get a name of someone that might have some information, or at least where to get some. His contact's contact lived someplace around here, but never stayed in the same area for long, just the same general area.

As Paulo walked along he got a few strange looks from people. Most seemed to be in shock that a Starfleet Officer was walking through the slums. Paulo wasn't worried about it that much. He was a trained Starfleet Intelligence Officer, and he would be able to do this easily, as soon as he found who he was looking for.

Paulo walked up to what looked like a bar and walked in. There seemed to be a half-a-dozen or so people there. Paulo looked around and headed back to where someone was sitting alone in the corner. "You must be Chang," Paulo said matter-a-factly.

"And you must Mr. DiMillo," Chang replied.

"You have some information for me?" Paulo didn't feel like playing games with the small man. He was here for information, and that was all. "If you don't have any information I am sure I can go somewhere else, and probably be able to report you to the coalition."

"Slow down there cowboy," Chang said. "I have your information for you, its just do you want to hear it?"

Paulo sat down at the table, and after flagging the waiter off Paulo took out one of his padds and pushed the record button. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Chang replied. He then took a sip from his drink and set the cup on the table. "I personally don't know if your sister is alive or not, but hopefully with this information you will be able to find out for yourself."

"I don't have all day Chang," Paulo replied. "The sooner you give me the information the the sooner you get you money and I can get out of this shit whole."

"Slow down their cowboy," Chang replied. "Luckily I do have all day, but if your in that much of a hurry," Chang said reaching into his pocket. Paulo reached down for his phaser at the same time Change pulled out an isoleaner chip. "All that information you need is here."

Paulo took the chip and pulled out a tricorder out of his bag and scanned it. "Looks like its real, and without a virus."

"Of course its real," Chang replied sounding hurt. "I don't have anything to gain by hurting you, but I have everything to loss."

"True," Paulo replied. "If you don't mind me leaving you, I have another contact to meet."

"Not at all Mr. DiMillo," Chang replied. "If you ever need any information I hope you remember this transaction."

At that Paulo stood up and set some credits on the table. "I just might," Paulo replied as he walked away from the table.

NPRG: Well, Erik Stiener is being removed at my request, so this is his last appearance. I just couldn't write for him anymore.

WARNING: Adult Language, and references to Bondage and other Fetishes.

"The Mooch Rides Again"

By Erik Stiener, (APC) Starfleets Newest Civilian Technical Advisor
and Lt. JG Klaus Fienberg, Medical Officer

Location: The Promenade outside of Stiener's (Closed) Shop.

BACKPOST: A week Prior to Arrival at Lammergeir

"Klaus! What the Fuck is wrong with you!"

Klaus was milling around, definitely not right. "They're going to come and kill us all! And We won't know until it's too late because they're INVISIBLE!"

"What? You mean the Romulans? Hostilities have ceased, Klaus! Is your brain fried or something?"

Klaus hadn't shaved that morning, and had a little dirt on his face. "No, I've never thought so clearly in my life. I have to go to work soon."

Stiener looked at his half-brother with worried eyes. "Klaus. You're starting to frighten me. Please seek some help will you?"

"I need Help? You think me Mad." Klaus started rambling and yelling in his native german, so quickly and badly that Erik couldn't understand him. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shook him, also yelling in garbled german. Klaus shook him off and punched Erik in the abdomen, which Erik followed with a slug in Fienberg's face. He fell flat on his ass with a thud, holding his face with one hand. Erik stood back, clutching his belly. Klaus nailed him, hard.

"Yes, I do think you are Mad. But Madness can be cured."

Klaus' nose was bleeding, he was on the hand that cradled his face. He was speechless, but the true moment of clarity came over him. Tears were in his eyes. Erik walked up, and put his hand out for Klaus to take. He took it and was hoisted back to his feet. Erik pulled him close and have him a one armed hug, then pushed him back slightly. The Brothers showed a long look into the other's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I had to snap you out of it. Do you see now?"

Klaus spoke with a shaky, hurt voice. "Yes, but I still feel as I did before. Just with the awarness of the feeling."

"Hold that awarness my brother. You must. I often felt as you do, and it's hard. Console those you love, specifically your lovely wife. Console your friends, you colleages and expecially the counselors. I can crack up with I want to, but you can't. Although you may be overlooked, your superiors being acknowledged, you are still an invaulable member of the crew. If you go mad, with your previous military experiance, who knows what you could do."

"Erik, I was a combat medic, and have never fired a phaser, or any weapon for that matter outside of Academy Training."

Erik smirked. "Do you know how to fire a phaser?"

"Of course----" Erik abruptly interupted.

"Enough Said."

They stood in a lightly awkward silence."Come, help me pack my things."

"What?" Erik regretted not informing his brother sooner.

"My Petition to take a civilian engineering position in Starfleet has come to a success. Narrowly. But there is even a possibility of Reinstatement."

"I suppose the assignment is on some remote station in the core systems?"

Erik Chuckled. "At the Heart of Backwater. Utopia Planetia. I will be adivising the Refit counsel on any new Technologies or other improvements."

"And if you're reinstated in Starfleet?"

Erik didn't seem happy about the next comment he gave. "Probably a desk job. Not with this arm. At least I'll have peace and quiet."

"No, You'll probably be corrupt and be sloshed on Romulan Ale most of the time."

Erik waved his fist in a angry-joking manner.

"Better, yet. You'd better not help me, you may find something you're too young to see."

Klaus retorted quickly. "I'm 32 years old, Erik."

"As I said. Too young."

Klaus put his hand on his head and rubbed it with frustration. "What is it, The Bondage suit? Or that love swing device."

Like a Little kid with a secret, Erik got close to Klaus' face "And more!"

"Jesus Christ."

He slapped each other's shoulders and seperated. Klaus turned around and walked backward, yelling out one more comment. "YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING MOOCH YOU BASTARD!!"

"Not For the Glory"

Primary Characters:
Ensign Cora Dobryin

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Intelligence CIC

It was time for a break. While they had turned up some interesting inforamtion so far she wanted to be sure there were no lose ends. Letting her mind drift to the earlier session with one of the ship's Counselor's, at least that was out of her way now. Cora secured the file she'd been working on, then her terminal. All standard operating procedure.

Then Ensign Dobryin exited Intelligence CIC. At the moment the only thing she had in mind was a walk, then maybe food. Daytime hours on a starship were busy. Today proved to be no exception. The only difference was a documentary film crew currently onboard as guests.

Rumors of their presence had been confirmed with her own eyes as Cora saw them passing in an adjacent corridor. What they didn't need was some sensationalized account of their mission. Her reasons for waking up every morning and once again putting the uniform of a Starfleet Intelligence Analyst had nothing to do with glory.

Public notice didn't enter the equation either. She did it to be able to continue to enjoy the freedom granted Federation citizens. Media types didn't always understand or see it that way. Cora knew all too well there would be some resistance when it came to having journalists aboard.

As a member of the Intelligence staff she had to be cafeful. The last thing they needed was for vital information to be comprimised. She set that thought aside as she recalled it was nearly time for lunch.

Cora detoured to grab something to eat before heading back to work. That way she wouldn't have to interrupt her work later. She had a long way to go before truly earing the respect and confidence of Galaxy's crew. Only time would allow that to happen as she lived with, worked and carried out her duties side by side with them.

"Counseling Session"

Primary Characters:
Ensign Cora Dobryin
Lieutenant Ammanalyn Llywhyn

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 14
Counseling Offices

Ammanalyn stood in the outside office-- called by terrans the 'waiting room', though most only saw it when passing through or waiting for loved ones. She was downloading some notes into the pych files of her morning appointments. Tampatiaen sat at her feet, licking a large paw, his tail flicking up and down contentedly.

She looked smaller in her slightly too large for her midnight blue civvies. Because she was seeing numerous new patients -- as acting assistant chief her work load had doubled -- she'd decided to be out of uniform that day. It was a tactic she had found put the more reluctant at better ease.

She picked up her next case's files from the desk,looking through it for a minute. Ensign Cora Dobryin, Intelligence. "Perfect," Ammanlyn muttered, looking down at Tam who raised her large, pale blue eyes in mid lick. "Draw it back in, Tampatiaen, you look rediculous. I never should have let you hang around with that housecat."

Cora had a busy schedule and wasn't exactly looking forward to the psych eval but she followed standard procedure. Before entering the Counseling office's she made a quick check of her uniform. Always one to look like a well groomed Starfleet Officer. "Ensign Dobryin reporting," were the first words to leave her lips when she arrived at her destination.

Both girl and... animal... looked over at her in unison, cocking their right eyebrow in unison. "I'm, ah, um...not a senior officer," she said, then offered a small smile. "You can just call me Am, and this is Tam. Please, Ensign -- may i call you Cora? -- this way." She directed her toward the hallway that led back to the counselors' offices.

"That will be fine. It's become a habit for me to inroduce myself that way," Cora replied following the Counselor.

"Probably for the best," Ammanalyn said, smiling as she pointed to the second on the left, nodding to the other woman to enter. "I developed a, ah... bad habit of not? and got on the bad side of more than a few, er... commanding officers." She cringed slightly as they entered the office: it was large and comfortable, with large sofas and pleasent paintings. A massive fish aquarium, about five feet long, two feet wide and two feet tall, sat against the far back wall and several dozen tropical fish swam around it. A small sofa sat up close to it and Tampatiaen ran to jump up upon it, watching the fish curiously. "Please, take a seat."

Cora made herself as comfortable as possible given the circumstances, "How long have you served on the Galaxy?" The question came more out of curiosity than anything. She wasn't trying to avoid the real reason for this meeting but did want to learn more about the crew in the process.

"Not very long, probably five, seven months. I haven't really kept track," Am said, blushing slightly. "It's a good ship, a little cold at first though. I still don't feel like I really know a lot of people around here, but I think that's 'cause Tam kinda freaks them out. And I'm a counselor. It's kinda two strikes against me." She smiled softly. "How are you finding it, Ensign?"

"Ok so far but then I'd say Intel comes in line next to Counseling when it comes to scarring people off. And I really haven't been aboard very long at all so I'm still very new to the ship," Cora commented.

"I wouldn't imagine people would feel very comfortable around you. They always think I'm psychoanalysing them. They would always think you're stealing their secrets... Can you tell me a little bit about the circumstances that have brought you to the Galaxy?"

Cora shrugged, "Nothing overly special. I assume its no secret I was among the survivors Galaxay's Executive Officer and his away team located aboard the Pallas Athena. Only that was just a temporary assignment for me. There's not much else I can say."

"That was a pretty traumatic ordeal," she said, softly. "I read a briefing on it..."

"Traumatic, yes it was. Do those memories haunt me of course they do," Cora admitted, "But I'll tell you something I'm not letting it interfere with my job and it would have been much worse if I had been a permanent member of that crew." She couldn't say that working in Intelligence gave her some very vivid insight into what they may be called upon to endure but that also played a part in how Ensign Dobryin responded to any crisis.

"Is there any method you are using to cope with what happened to you?"

"Besides mourning like eveyrone else, writing down what I feel and going about life as my those that didn't survive would want me to," she wasn't sure what else the Counselor was exactly getting at.

"So you keep a journal?" Ammanalyn questioned, making a mental note. "How long have you kept it?"

Cora thought about it, "Its something I've been doing for as long as I can remember. Probably started seriously back when I first found out I was accepted as a Cadet at the Academy."

"Alright... have you had trouble sleeping? Nightmares? Nightsweats? Any trouble at all in adjusting to day to day life again, and on a new ship? You haven't had a lot of stability in your career, Cora; I am concerned you don't have a support network around you." This wasn't going well, Ammanalyn thought. This woman was answering everything correctly. Her body language was giving away nothing. What did she expect from intelligence, she supposed.

She was also realizing how tightly wound she was. She was nervous. The entire experience with Kylar Curran had her on edge. She was letting that interfere with her work. Focus on the patient in front of you, Ammanalyn, she chided herself. Focus.

"I guess I have had a few mild nightmares and some trouble sleeping," she answered, "Though I know the latter could also have something to do with the stresses of adjusting to a new ship. Right now I'm doing what I can not to let it get in the way of my duties, but I do know when I have reached my limit and will ask for help if I need it."

Ammanalyn studied the woman carefully. May I have your word on that, Ensign?" she asked softly. "My office is always open to you."

"Yes you have my word on that. Sure I'm not exactly fond of psych evaluations but I'm not an idiot either. My career didn't just come by snapping my fingers so I'm not about to ruin it by being stupid," a slight smile appeared.

Ammanalyn laughed softly. "Finally. One who sees it my way. Well, I think we're done here; you're doing better than I would be, Cora, and better than officers with twice your experience. I'm impressed. But if something does happen, please -- no matter what time, I'm here to help. Don't go putting up that strong Starfleet Officer mask that so many... frontliners... do." She stood and offered her hand. "And welcome aboard, Ensign."

Cora accepted Ammanalyn's hand as she stood to leave, "Thank you Counselor."

"You're very welcome. Have a good day."

"Coincidental Meeting"

Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen
Liaison Officer for the Starfleet Scientific Corps.

Lieutenant (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineer

*** Some corridor, Saucer Section ***

~It's always the same... Day in day out.~ Michael shook his head while he kept on reading the newest incidents concerning the Quick virus. ~That 'thing' is going to get us killed someday.~

He quickly exchanged the PADD for another one. It held some letters from home, from both his father and mother. Finally something which he would enjoy reading. After reading the first two paragraphs it was clear to him that they were both doing fine. His father had managed to get more time for his hobbies besides his work at the University and Galor IV, and mother had taken up gardening again.

Michael smiled. Nothing but good news from home. What more could he wish for? The thought of father and his hobbies even made him chuckle. ~Hobbies? Yeah, that would mean even more Mathematics.~

By now Michael was so engrossed in reading the latest news from home that he was unaware that he was on a collision course with someone else that walked in the opposite direction. Moments later the inevitable happened.

PADDs went flying everywhere as Michael clashed into the other person. He was just able to utter a muffled cry as he fell down on the floor. He blinked a few times, disoriented at first, trying to focus on the individual before him and quickly offered an apology. "I, uh, I'm very sorry. This was my fault."

The young Betazoid started to help him pick up the PADDS while her twins James and Diana was in their stroller watching the young man they are now an few months old, "Sorry it was my fault I should have watched where I was going."

Michael thought for a few moments why she also offered him an apology. Surely he was the only one at fault here. But the thought disappeared just as soon as it had come up. She, and her children, seemed to be okay and that was more important at the moment. "Well, maybe we both should be more careful when we're going for a walk in the future. I'm Michael McDowell. And you are?" Michael smiled and offered his hand.

With an warm smile Rose shook the young man hand and replied, "I'm Rose Isis MacAllen and this are my twins James and Diana, I have another girl Karyn she in day care right now."

"Pleased to meet you Rose." Now the introduction was over and done with, the little kids of Rose were drawing attention from Michael. He crouched and looked at the two cute little faces. Their eyes following his every move. Michael put on a big smile. "Hey, you two. How are you doing? Are you having a nice walk with Mama? You like it?"

Both of the babies looked at the young man an started to smile and giggles, Rose looked at the young man and replied, "I think they like you."

"That feeling's mutual." Michael answered while playing a bit with the kids. It suddenly made him think about his own future. Thirty-four years old and no children. It was not really how he'd pictured it years ago. "They're really nice children. How old are they?"

"My older Karyn she almost three and the twins are fixing to be one very soon." Rose replied while walking little Diana grabbing an hold of Michael's nose.

Michael laughed. "Yes, you're right, that's my nose." He then carefully placed a finger on Diane's little nose. "And this is your nose. Right here. Feel that?"

Diane tried to look at the top of her nose and was forced to look a bit cross-eyed, which made Michael even laugh more. He looked up at Rose again. "This is just wonderful. She sure knows how to have fun, doesn't she?"

"Yes she does." replied Rose with a little smile on her face while little James looked at toward his little twin sister.

Michael stood up, but he kept looking at the little girl besides him. Next he looked up at Rose. "Forgive me for being so curious, but are you taking the kids out to the Holodeck or are you just walking around?"

"I'm just walking around, I get a bit bored something not doing anything."

It surprised Michael to hear she was bored. "Why be bored? Is there not enough to do on the ship? There should be Holodecks available at this time. I'm sure they would love it." He nodded slightly to both Rose's children. After some hesitation Michael continued. "Can I be of any help?"

"Well I been trying to write an holonovel, it from my favorite book "Gone With The Wind" but I don't know what to do first." the young Betazoid replied while rocking the twins stroller a little why they started to try to start talking a little...even though it just funny sounds.

Frowning just a little, Michael tried to remember if he ever read the book. " 'Gone with the wind'... I don't think I read that book before. I can help you, but you'll have to explain the story to me. You know, the setting, the characters, all the important things that make up the story. If I have that, then I should be able to put something together."

With another gentle smile the young Betazoid replied, "That be fine, when ever your ready to do this Michael."

Michael nodded. "Alright. I'll give you a sign when I have some time left. I don't know when that will be, but hopefully it won't be too long." He let out a short sigh. "Well, I wish I could stay and talk longer. However, there are people waiting for me. They're probably wondering what's keeping me. So, I'll talk to you later Rose. Take care."

With that Michael walked on, but not before he waved at the two little kids, Diane and James. He smiled. This day seemed to go quite well for him, except for that unfortunate clash with Rose. Though, in hindsight, that small incident had been rather funny...

BACKPOST ALERT: Takes place after we leave Starbase 212 and before Legate Curran is removed from duty.

"No Secrets"

Primary Characters:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commander Cassius Henderson

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 2
Pennington's Quarters

Cass dropped the Padd on her desk. He'd been looking forward to coming back to his position as Chief Tactical Officer, to his daily arguements with Rima, to his old life. But he saw now that that life was gone, washed away with the tide. Two messages had told him that. The first, assigning him permanently as the ship's executive officer. The second was Rima's goodbye note.

Personally, he hadn't thought she had it in her to do something like that. Apparently he'd had her pegged wrong, or she'd grown a spine since the time they'd last spoken. Her letter had a lot of good points in it, and he had to admit, he didn't envy her the position she was in.

He would have to make the decision about what to do about it later. The Galaxy was shipping out in a few days, and he had a job to do. He was the executive officer now, and Rima Pennington, for the time being, was out of his reach. It was time to report in.

"Computer, lights to zero," he said, walking out of the room, "Seal quarters, authorization Henderson Kappa Foxtrot One-Seven-One." When the computer chirped it's acceptance of the new executive officer's command, he stepped away and headed for the bridge. He'd clean out her quarters later, but for now he didn't want Biessman or tr'Khellian coming back and ransacking the place.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Daren Runako M'Kantu was a man of few words. What he did choose to say, he spoke with great candor, and specific pronunciation as to elicit a no-nonsense approach to the situation at hand.

Standing with his back to the main desk console, he idly watched the stars as they stretched by in their mystique of bending light. He thought back to the days when he was a green flight control officer on the Aries almost 30 years ago now. Times were so much simpler back then. The Galaxy Project had just gotten underway, no major skirmishes at the time. Allah, even the Ferengi weren't naught but a nuisance rather than the major thorn they are now.

And now here he was, commanding one of those very cruisers he'd read so much about as a fresh-faced Ensign and Lieutenant.

Yet, he still faced the disrespect of one who he'd supported promotion on.

Cassius.

Commander Henderson had arrived by shuttle while they were en route to the Gryphon Asteroid Belt. His assignment with Flight Officer A'Akledorian had taken him off-ship since the ship docked with Starbase 212 the previous month. M'Kantu hadn't been apprised of the goal of that assignment, only to expect Commander Henderson back before the Galaxy departed for her next mission.

Yet, his Number One was late on returning, and had yet to check in after arriving almost an hours previous. Daren didn't much appreciate the fact he had to call his Executive Officer to meet him. It should've been the other way around.

"Commander Henderson, report to the Captain's Ready Room immediately."

Daren set his jaw. He was more than slightly irritated.

Cass frowned, leaning on the wall of the turbolift. This probably didn't bode well. M'Kantu hadn't sounded pleased. Perhaps stopping by Pennington's quarters before checking in formally had been a mistake. But he was here now. And after all, any tongue lashing M'Kantu gave him would pale in comparison to the ones he'd received after the Dalson incident in 2376.

Stepping out of the bridge turbolift, he crossed the back of the bridge, ignoring those around him, manning their stations silently. Warp travel was always a slow time on the bridge. Arriving at the ready room door, he rang he chime.

"Enter." The ready room doors, parted in stark contrast to the presumptuously slow time perceived by Cassius. The whisper dared chase the burgundy panels to their sleeves, but once again lost the race.

Daren had his back to a slightly skewed angle just off to Henderson's left.

His fingers steepled in what one could only imagine as deep thought.

"Commander Henderson, it has been approximately 1 hour and 13 minutes since you docked with the Galaxy. Your late arrival could have our scheduled rendez-vous with Ambassador sh'Sonora back, or worse yet, allowed lives to be put at risk by our not arriving at the exact time we have given the Gryphon government. Yet, you felt it necessary to put off checking in with me." The dark, mottled fingers tapped from the forefinger down to the pinky.

Henderson straightened anything limp in his posture. This wasn't going to be good. "I appologize, sir. I had not been made aware of my confirmation as executive officer before checking my messages in my quarters. As far as I knew, I was to return to my duties as Chief Tactical Officer."

"I'm not interested in excuses, Commander. You are not a fresh-faced recruit on his first assignment - belay that. A new recruit would have been 30 minutes early. You are to set THE example to serve by. I can't have my First Officer doing whatever he pleases whenever he elects to do so. I'm not disinclined to state I pondered releasing you from your obligations here." He still had not turned to face the Commander.

"What say you, Mr. Henderson? Careful of what you state. I haven't cast aside the notion of a transfer yet."

Cassius took a deep breath. If it didn't work out, it didn't matter. He had never expected to be promoted beyond the tactical department in the first place. "Sir, I understand the my record is far from spotless, and I have made some judgemental errors in the past. However, I believe, and hope that you agree, that my performance as Chief Tactical Officer onboard the Galaxy has been model, as department chiefs go."

He paused for a moment, "As an executive officer... My tactical skills are probably without doubt, but I have little formal command experience beyond academy courses and what I've picked up in the field."

"This means that I may not be as good a choice as an executive officer when it comes to dealing with problems within the crew," Cassius said, continuing his self-assessment, "Within my department, we were usually fairly self sufficient, with the exception of Ens... Lieutenant Pennington. I worked with her to try to resolve that, and I had thought she was making progress, despite her continued refusal to seek counselors. I suppose, though, that her going AWOL doesn't help me much."

"In any case, Captain, I have a lot to learn," Cass concluded, searching for the right words, "But if you're willing to teach, sir, then I'm more than willing to learn, and become the executive officer that your initial faith in me proves that you want me to be."

Daren had remained intent on Henderson's monologue. Cass appeared reserved, strict in posture, keeping his strengths and weaknesses relevant, to the point. For several long seconds, the Captain deigned his commanding presence in a prolonged effort to wait for the usual 'but...'. It never came.

"Mr. Henderson, you are correct in assuming your need to learn. Regardless of how well you interact with the crew on a personal level, it is the professional aspect I am more concerned about. It is not the friendship rapport that I need from you. It is your professional conduct." He bore his eyes into the First Officer's to drive home the point.

"Even as a department head, I expect the highest level of conduct, at which you failed to adhere to on arrival. It is not up to you as a Chief or First Officer to decide when it is time to check in with the Captain or First Officer. That procedure is mine to determine. Did you take the time to confirm the manifest on arrival? For if you had, you would have verified that one, we were never assigned a replacement XO. You would also have seen the note I tagged to your roster to see me upon your return." Captain M'Kantu rose from his position at the head of the table to round out Cassius facing him.

"As a Tactical Officer, Mr. Henderson, this lapse of judgment on your part puts me in a position to second guess any options you present to me. I don't wish to be in that position if you're this lackadaisical as we're surrounded by Jem`Hadar." He panned the First Officer's expression. There was something...

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Commander?"

Cassius listened to Captain M'Kantu's words and nodded mentally. He was too used to operating independently; dictating his own schedule. One assignment and the past four years had dropped away. Well, it was time to get back in step with reality and stop playing spy games.

"Sir, I think you should know that my Starfleet Intelligence commission has recently been reactivated. As you know, I was off-ship with T'Shani A'Akledorian, who should be returning soon. We were on a mission for the SFMC Intelligence branch 'Red' Division. While I can't give you too many details, it involved a long, intense, operation to recover stolen technology," Henderson said, "While I can't say I agree with many of 'Red' Division's, or even SFI's ideological decisions, I do have to carry out their orders. I thought you should know, in case it affects your decision one way or the other."

Captain M'Kantu let out the breath he'd been holding. Cassius passed the preliminary test. He would hold no secrets from him.

"It is good you informed me of your mission, Commander. I dislike my officers with-holding information from me. It denotes a lack of faith I find disturbing." The elder officer resumed his position in the leather-backed chair that was his alone.

"I fully expect a report on my desk at 0800 tomorrow morning of an evaluation of ship procedures and efficiency reports of the crew. Assign drills, simulations, whatever you need. We're on a mediation mission, of which you will find in your date calendar the details on. Plenty of time to increase efficiency and productivity. Being in neutral territory without the benefit of Federation aid will require the crew to be topnotch. Also, arrange shore leave rotation with the CPO Westwell." M'Kantu was relatively satisfied with Henderson's response. It was now up to the new Executive Officer what he would follow up on.

He depressed a panel button on to open a lower drawer on his desk frame. Reaching inside he withdrew a small black, nondescript case at which the dark-skinned African stood up with somber ease and extended it to Henderson. The chrome border glittered a spectrum of colour from the lights of the fish tank to his left.

"Congratulations, Commander. Your official promotion came through." He flipped the lid to reveal a shiny gold pip, meant to replace the dark one of Lt. Commander status on Cass' collar.

"Thank you, sir. I'll get right on those evaluations," Cassius said, carefully accepting the case and replacing the pip on his collar. It was certainly a strange way to get promoted, but he would take what he could get.

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