"Just a Big Red Bow"

Colby Elliot
Ella Grey

Colby shifted where he leaned on the wall of the lounge. He was finally coming out of the hangover, the beat in his head falling to a low treble. He needed to stop drinking. Colby looked around the lounge for someone to talk to, someone he didn’t already know as most of those people had a way or getting tired of him or being Hilary. Yellow shirt at the bar, she was pretty. That was vain. Yeah, yeah it was. Colby moved from the wall and crossed the lounge and took a seat at the bar next to the woman. “Hey,” he said, looking over to Ella.

Ella looked up from the computer PADD which contained information she had, sadly, updated about new runabout technology, and at the new arrival. She surveyed him in cool appraisal. He wasn't really her type but she was mad enough at Victor to try to take some sort of petty revenge. Ella whipped out her other PADD.

*HEY* She typed.

Colby raised his eyebrows, "Uh...what's with the PADD?"

Ella raised her eyebrows as well. She would have thought everyone would have known about her by now. *I AM MUTE*

"No shit?" Colby asked then shook his head, "Sorry I just would have thought that...you know, that could be fixed."

She smiled. *AH, BUT WHAT WILL REALLY MYSTIFY YOU IS THAT IT IS VOLUNTARY*

"Like its all in your head and you are working shit out with your shirk voluntary or fuck the world, who needs to talk to them voluntary?" Colby asked, an odd smile crossing his lips. Yeah, he'd found an odd one this time didn't he?

Ella grinned at that. *THE LATTER, I THINK. SO WHAT'S YOUR STORY?*

Elliot shrugged, "I don't have a story, I'm just here." He rolled his eyes, "Just another one of those guys who fixes the toilet while Kirk saves the world."

She was starting to like this guy's sense of humor. *I ALWAYS THOUGHT SCOTTY WAS THE COOL ONE.*

"He was cool, kinda lost his figure near the end there," Colby replied with a grin, "Anyway, even if we are talking Scotty he was still the chief engineer, I'm just the operations officer." His tone shifted to a mock seriousness, "Engineers fix the warp field, the weapon systems and save the ship from blowing up!" he finished on a rather triumphant note then added, "Operations officers unclog toilets."

She definately wouldn't mess around with this one. He was too funny. *AND FOR THAT THEY SHOULD BE COMMENDED.* Ella replied with a twinkle in her eye. *I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO LIVE ON A SHIP WITH PORTA POTTY'S AND SHOULD HATE EVEN MORE TO BE A PLUMBER.* She flagged the waiter for another drink.

"That's way to fucking positive for me...you don't mind if I say fuck do you?" Colby shook his head and whispered, "Fuck I said it again."

She leaned in a bit in a conspiratoral glance. *I WONT TELL IF YOU WON'T*

Colby laughed and shook his head, "You know, that makes me wonder, you're always not talking? I mean what about if you drop something heavy on your foot?” he shrugged, "It just seems like it would take a lot of self control just to not talk."

Ella smiled and shrugged. *PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT AND I'VE BEEN MUTE A LONG TIME NOW.*

"What brought that on? If I can pay not fucking attention to the fact that its not of my damn business and ask?"

*WELL, DAMN, I DONT KNOW* Ella typed with a grin. *THAT'S AWFULLY FUCKING PERSONAL.*

Colby gave a big toothy grin and nodded, "Well fuck it then. But this means you get to pick the next topic," he retorted smiling.

Ella thought about it and then pouted out her lips. *GOT ANY TIPS ON HOW TO KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO A GUY. I MEAN, I NEED A REAL WINNER HERE AND NOT JUST SOME 'BE YOURSELF' CRAP*

Colby smiled with a devious glee for a moment then straightened his face, "No bullshit, no be yourself real advice to get the guy. In all seriousness?" he asked but didn’t pause for her to answer "Find out where he lives, go in before he gets off his shift and wait for him with a big red bow on," Colby broke out of the serious tone and smiled, "Just the bow. And in case you're wondering my quarters are on Deck five." He finished then laughed, "The last part is a joke, actually I'm on deck 8."

She laughed outloud, her laughter echoing around the room. Ella embraced the sound of it, actually, she hadn't laughed like that in awhile. *I WOULD TAKE YOU UP ON THE OFFER IF I DIDN'T LIKE YOU SO MUCH. AS FOR THE RED BOW, MY GUY IS A LITTLE, ER, SLOW ABOUT THAT SORT OF THING. I DONT THINK HE'D GET THE SUGGESTION TO UNWRAP ME.*

"First of all anyone with a penis would unwrap that little Christmas present, and two," he said holding up two fingers and sounding surprised, "You broke the silence! I mean isn't laughing like talking?" Colby asked, clearly more confused about the willed silence then most would be, "and you know, shit, who the hell is this guy who wouldn't get a naked chick in a big bow, shit, that's classy! Ok, not THAT classy but shit."

Ella held up a finger and then typed. *FIRST, MY SILENCE IS MOSTLY ABOUT SPEECH NOW.* She held up two fingers. *AND SECOND, HE'S A GUY WHO JUST DOESNT BELIEVE THAT HE COULD BE THAT LUCKY, I SUPPOSE. I'D TELL YOU HIS NAME BUT YOU'D MOST LIKELY RUN SCREAMING IN TERROR.*

Colby raised his eyesbrows, "Run screaming in terror? Well now you have to tell me."

*VICTOR KRIEGOFF FROM SECURITY.*

Colby chuckled, "I don't even know who that is. I'm actually pretty new to this little boat." Elliot shrugged and took a drink of his beer, “So, let me get those straight. The guy can't take a hint, even when you type nice and flirty on your PADD, and if you showed up naked he'd just think you had the wrong room? Is he gay?"

She laughed again. *HE'S NOT. HE'S JUST, WELL, VICTOR.*

Colby shrugged and raised his hands, "I don't know, I mean showing up naked isn't subtle, if he doesn't get that…fuck I'm lost."

*JOIN THE CLUB.* Ella replied. She polished off her drink and then smiled. *IM ON DUTY TOMMOROW MORNING SO IM TURNING IN EARLY. IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU...WHAT'S YOUR NAME ANYWAY, LOL?*

Colby shook his head, feeling a little dumb that he had never said it before now, "Colby Elliot."

*ELLA GREY*

"Pretty name," Colby replied, "I guess I'll see you around then, hope you figure out how to give super dude the hint."

She shrugged. *ONE DAY MAYBE. SEE YOU AROUND, COLBY.*

Colby nodded to Ella as she left, taking a long drink of his beer as he watched her leave. "Damn."

"Checking On The Children Education"

By:
Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen
Ensign Sean Townsent (NPC)
Miss Victoria Lee, Day Care Teacher
Karyn Shinta MacAllen

**Galaxy's Daycare**

It was art day at the Galaxy Daycare and it was little Karyn's favorite day of all.

Sitting in her hovercraft looking all pretty in pink with matching pink bows holding her ponytails together.

During that time Miss Victoria Lee, an young pretty Asian woman who just in her early twenty's was passing out diffrent colors of model clay to children.

With an gentle smile Miss Lee gave little Karyn an big piece if pink clay and gave the young girl an big smile as she started to play deep into the clay.

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

Meanwhile since it was during her lunch break Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen wanted to check in with Ensign Sean Townsend who was the head of the Day Care to see now her oldest daughter was doing with the other children.

The older Betazoid woman just stand there looking on how little Karyn was playing with her clay and with her other friends at the table as Sean Townsend walked up behind her while Rose was lost in her thoughs.

"You got one beautiful daughter 'Commander MacAllen but something is troubling me." Sean said while both of them started waving at Karyn who just gave them an gentle smile and when back to playing knowing that they was talking grownup talks.

"And what that Ensign?" the Betazoid mother asked while looking at him with her dark eyes.

"Even though she very young but she worried about you but she won't tell me though."

Rose though for an few minutes, it must be about her and James. Little Karyn always asked if "Uncle James" was coming back to see them, but the Betazoid officer didn't have the heart to tell her that James is staying away from the from alittle while because he is too busy for them...always looking for his belonged Rebecca which that name always made her ill everytime she heards it.

But that was not any of Ensign Townsent business so the Betazoid replied, "Were fine she always worry about me no matter what."

Sean smiles then looked back towards little Karyn who was talking to her Trill friend who was sitting next to her talking.

"Like mother like daughter, she very smart, somewhat outspoken like her mother...she going to make an very great officer in the future."

With that said Rose Isis MacAllen smiles...Karyn is going to have an great future no matter who or what stands in the way and Rose will make sure of that.

"The Case of the Space Cadet & Green Growing Things"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Team Leader/Director

&
Miguel Antonio Sandoval
Botanist

----

Plants are people too. At least, that's what ex-wife number four insisted after I killed the third purple passion plant in a row. It's not my fault that I had no idea it needed some sort of special water imported from the sweet springs of Centaurus. That damn planet was haunting me. It was part, if not all, of the reason that that marriage broke up. She was a sweet girl, but after she pulled Plant Woman of the Amazon she had to go. I still have a single plant in my possession, one that thankfully I haven't managed to kill off. She insisted that it was an expression of my virility after our nasty divorce was settled. She was certain it would die within the month.

That was, I'm proud to say, fifteen years ago. Take that...whatever her name was, Amy, Jessica? There was that green Orion for a time there, she was great. Now, I'm single once again and still looking for the future ex-Mrs. Bregman. That, however, is neither here nor now. I'm currently on my way to interview number two - the Chief Botonist on the Galaxy. Personally, I hope this particular Spanish bloke can be entertaining on screen. But, we shall see.

-----

Emmett Bregman was surrounded by plants. Plants to the left, plants to the right, plants beneath and above him. He felt like he was back in ex-wife number four's living room. Emmett put a pleasant smile on his face as he settled himself on the bench, "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Ensign Sandoval." He hoped that the jungle wouldn't be too atrocious on the lighting. It needed to be just so, but he preferred to meet in places where the subject would be most comfortable.

For himself, the young ensign from El Salvador was simply gushing with excitement. ~~~TV!!~~~ he thrilled to himself, ~~~I'm going to be on TV!!!~~~

Mind racing, Miguel attempted to mentally compose of all the aunts uncles and cousins he would have to call and tell about this interview.

"Ensign?"

"Ah...Pardon' Senor Breeeaaagman." Miguel tittered, mutilating Emmett's name in the process. "Am being...ah...holo-shy. Um....yes, where is camera?" He twitched a toothy smile nervously.

"That's quite alright," Bregman nodded, taking note of the massacre of his name and the poor English skills. Maybe he should insist that the kid speak in Spanish and bring in a translator...he should edit that part out. "Don't worry about the camera, Ensign, it's in the area." If he told the kid where it was, he would be bound to stare at it insistently.

Not that that helped any, and Miguel was soon tossing knowing glances off into space , winking and smiling at the 'camera' (Or at least where he suspected one might be.)

"Why don't we begin with a bit on your background and then what you do here on the Galaxy?"

"Job yes!" Miguel bobbed his head rapidly still grinning like a loon. "Am being......" he paused for dramatic effect, "BOTANIST!" He breathed the word with a sense of awe as if he had just announced he had descended from on high to lead the children of Israel out of Egypt.

'Enthusiastic kid, isn't he?' he thought to himself. "Why don't you tell me about how you came to *be* a botanist?" He tried to urge Miguel to follow the order of his questions.

"Well," Miguel began tossing a wink into thin air, "This then is being a very interesting story. My am having grown up in Zacatecoluca......" he paused before adding, "Is being in El Salvador....." another pause, "...is being on planet Earth."

He almost went on to explain where Earth was, but Emmett was twirling his fingers in little 'go-on' motions.

"Am having been living with seven brothers and sisters.....three being boys and three being girls." Miguel paused again doing the math. "Also adding in me to being another boy....that makes seven."

Miguel began sweating ~~~Idiot idiot idiot...you are babbling like a total nincompoop~~~ he thought to himself.

"Anyways then," he continued. "My Country is having been depleted of flora during Industrial eras of 1900's and 2000's. Having not alot of regrowth either. So Federation is having had reforestation project for last 10-20 years, and am having worked on it as a teenager. Learned form Experts and decided to be expert too."

He knew the Spanish people. Rosalita used to go on and on about her family. Rosalita being ex-wife number two. Emmett tried to steer the conversation away from the family life, "Could you give us some details on what you do here on the Galaxy?" 'C'mon, kid, give me something I can use,' he urged mentally though his thoughts did not come out in his expression.

"Ah details." Miguel made a wide jerky motion with his arms as if to encompass the surrounding Arboretum. "This is being the Arboretum." He announced not blinking for an instant or allowing his cheesy camera-grin to leave his face. Am being in charge of research in Botany and Ecology for USS Galaxy for United Federation of Planets." In his nervousness, Miguel was still needlessly providing extra boring detail.

"Right," Emmett tried to ignore the urge to drawl that first word. "Is this your first assignment out of the Academy, Ensign? If so, how do you feel about being assigned to the USS Galaxy - especially with her reputation around the 'fleet and the Federation?"

"Reputation?" Miguel almost lost his fake grin on that one, but the worry did show around his eyes. As a scientist Miguel had not the slightest inkling about the reputations of various ships in the fleet, nor did he really care.

Starships were just glorified transports used to take him from scientific discovery to scientific discovery. What did it matter what name was on the outside.

"Ummm.....Galaxy...yes.....Uh am thinking Galaxy is big. Big ship yes?"

~~~What kind of reputation does this ship have?~~~ he wondered inwardly.

'Oh dear God,' Emmett thought, seriously tempted to find the nearest bulkhead to start banging his head against. 'Si, Senor, el Galaxy es muy grande,' he thought despite himself. Of all the things. He couldn't include that comment in his documentary - it made the kid look, well, stupid. Bregman pinched the bridge of his nose before he replied to the rather earnest botonist, "Yes, it is a large vessel. Is this your first time on a starship?" He tried to re-direct the ensign's attention to the question, this time trying to be more direct than asking about the Galaxy's reputation. Big. He said the ship was big. Someone shoot him now.

"Well..no. Am having had other training cruises in Academy. First time out of solar system yes?. Went on training cruise to Jupiter.......uh....big big planet in Solar systems." He explained. "Am having had mock combat drill in Jupiter orbit. Am being declare simulated casualty." Miguel made a face mimicking a dead man complete with lolling tongue and rolled up eyes. "Am having been good dead crewman. Got another B plus that time."

Even better. The kid was proud of being a simulated dead guy. 'Yes, kiddies,' he mentally addressed an audience, 'This is what you can look forward to in Starfleet. Join Starfleet! See Jupiter! Play a dead guy!' "Ah, congratulations." It was obvious, at least to him, that that wasn't really 'meant.'

The young scientist of course took him literally, and smiled goofily.

Miguel's eyes sparkled mischievously as he beckoned Emmet to lean in closer. "Am wanting to see a secret?" he asked mysteriously. Reaching down behind the bench, the botanist pulled a large ceramic pot out from its hiding place and displayed it proudly before him.

"Taa-Dah!" he exclaimed beaming.

The image was to be frank.....quite sad.

A sick looking tangle of thorny twigs sat forlornly in the middle of the pot quite devoid of any sort of foliage or decoration. It looked like nothing so much as a rotten old stump somebody had stuck in the muddy soil.

It looked like the remains of one of his ex-wife's plants after he got done with it. "What is it?" Bregman asked, trying to be nice.

Miguel looked hurt. "Is being a rosebush!" he insisted. "Is being my own design for Academy Genetics lab during Senior Year. I got a B-Plus!"

"Um, congratulations?" he offered, though it didn't seem quite sincere. "But...it doesn't look like it is doing very well. Shouldn't there be some sort of foliage?"

"Well...yes, but will be blooming soon....very special rose. Am being my own designed." He repeated.

"Oh, okay," Emmett was thinking that right about now would be a good time to try to wrap things up, "Well, Ensign, thank you very much for your time."

Miguel's smile seemed to falter, and he touched one of the sickly looking thorns almost lovingly. "Ah....yes..." he sighed. "Are having to go...no time for Rose.....lots more interesting things on ship than my plants....Warp drive thingies and mechanical stuff."

Miguel's betrayed utter wonder that anyone could find mere electronic equipment interesting.

Great, now he broke the kid's heart. Emmett nodded slightly, "Thanks again for agreeing to speak with us, Ensign."

"De nada Senor." Miguel nodded at the imaginary camera (Its nothing)

-----

So, that went well. Between the whole English as a second language angle - why the hell wouldn't they come up with a universal translator that translated poor English? - and the Ensign's penchant for plants...Who am I kidding? That sucked. I've now got to spend at least five hours in the editing room just to salvage that conversation.

Damnit. And I was counting on cruising their bar tonight....

“Class is in Session”

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Flight Control NPCs

“So maybe you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here,” Lieutenant Savoie stated from his position next to the helm on his holodeck-rendered recreation of the Galaxy’s bridge. The statement wasn’t as meaningless as it might have seemed. Though he was Chief Helmsman, he only bothered to assemble the rest of his department for the obligatory ritual of regular meetings. Unplanned occasions such as this were not the kind of thing anyone expected from him.

“Or maybe you’re not. Either way, I really don’t give a rat’s ass.” Remarks like that were the kind of thing –everyone- expected from him.

“The long and short of it is that while we’re hanging around Lammergeir the Galaxy is basically a big sitting target just waiting to get smacked by an asteroid or two and it’s up to our department to make sure it doesn’t. So I thought we’d have a little refresher on how to handle the situation.”

“Sir,” Lieutenant Selana interjected. “Since it is logical to assume that since you are leading this session you are the most qualified helm officer to pilot the ship, are we not at risk right now with you away from the bridge?”

Damn tedious Vulcans.

“I have every faith in Ensign Faraal’s ability to handle the ship for awhile,” Jeremy replied. “But the sooner we get done with this, the sooner we’ll reduce any risk to the ship no matter who’s at the helm.” Not as to the point as “shut up”, but the reply allowed him to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

Abruptly shifting his attention from Selana, Savoie set his gaze on Ensign Ashbey. “Ashbey, have a seat,” he ordered, gesturing to the helm console. Obediently, Craig Ashbey placed himself at the controls. “Computer, run simulation Savoie-thirteen.” The viewscreen flickered to life, with the large rock called Lammergeir in the lower left corner.

“Okay, in a few seconds we’re going to have some incoming asteroidals. Show me what you’re gonna do.” The ensign swallowed, but held his eyes steady on the viewscreen, his hands poised over the console waiting to initiate evasive actions with the ship’s maneuvering thrusters. One tense second ticked by, then a second, then another . . . .

“CRR-unnchhh!” The entire holo-bridge rocked as red-alert klaxons burst into shrill song.

“What the . . .?” the shocked helmsman called out, staring wide-eyed at the still placid scene in front of him.

“Computer, end simulation,” Jeremy called out. “Congratulations, ensign. We’ve just lost deck 37 and Waste Management with it. The unprocessed shit of over a thousand Starfleet officers and crewmen will be raining down on Lammergeir in just a few minutes.”

“But sir,” Ashbey protested, “I didn’t see . . . “

“That’s right, you didn’t see,” Savoie interrupted. “Lesson number one,” he said, turning to the rest of the department, “do NOT depend on your eyes alone. You better be aware of lateral sensor readings as well as what’s on that viewscreen ‘cause those hunks of rock aren’t going to walk up and introduce themselves before they plow into us.”

“But what about the shields, the repulsor beams, or even Lammergeir’s own protective defense systems?” Lieutenant Elhaj asked.

Jeremy looked from Elhaj to the others. ”At any time, for any number of reasons, our shields could be down. Repulsor beams are not foolproof, nor are the asteroid’s defense systems. In the end, ladies and gentlemen, I want us counting on our own observations and reflexes first, supportive technologies second.”

“Certainly we can depend on assistance from Ops,” Maggie Pike interjected.

“-Last- of all depend on Ops,” Jeremy shot back with a withering stare. He wasn’t about to trust his hide or his reputation to that weenie Geluf. “When you’re at this console, -you- are responsible for keeping this ship out of harm’s way. What anyone else around you does is icing on the cake.”

“Merced, you’re up,” he announced next. While ensigns Ashbey and Merced exchanged places, Savoie called up the next simulation. The Galaxy was still in orbit of Lammergeir, but this time two substantially large asteroidals were careening toward the ship. The rest of the helm staff observed intently as Merced readied himself with a cocky grin. This was going to be simple. All he had to do was maneuver the ship slightly to get out of the path of these rocks.

A split second later, two red beams of light lanced up from Lammergeir’s surface, intersecting with the incoming asteroidals and blasting them apart. Now, where there had been only two humongous bodies, was a myriad of somewhat smaller but still very dangerous boulders. Merced froze, unsure which way to go.

Again, the holo-bridge shuddered and the red alerts erupted. The all went quiet as Jeremy halted the simulation.

“Aw, c’mon Lieutenant, that wasn’t fair,” Merced started.

::Whiny little bastard,:: Savoie thought, giving the younger officer an incredulous glare. “Not –fair-??? Well maybe if we ask the asteroids real nice they’ll treat us better next time,” he mocked. “Lesson number two,” he scowled, “a situation can change in a heartbeat for reasons you will never anticipate. Don’t get locked into a plan of action only to be unable to change it at the last millisecond.”

“Pike, take the helm.” Quickly, Maggie complied, more than a little nervous after the last two failures. “Computer, re-run the last simulation.” Once more, Lammergeir came into view with the same two huge asteroids headed for the ship. Lieutenant Pike engaged the maneuvering thrusters to pull the ship above their trajectory, and a moment later Lammergeir’s defense system activated again, shattering the incoming bodies. With cat-like reflexes, the helm officer veered the ship to the right, avoiding a couple particularly nasty-looking chunks of rock that careened harmlessly under and to the left of the ship. In so doing however, she inadvertently put the ship in the path of another significant piece of debris. Instantly, she brought the ship hard to the left and up, but the rock still struck the ship, setting off the red alerts once again.

But this time, Jeremy didn’t halt the simulation. “Keep moving, Pike,” he barked, pointing out another large piece of debris headed directly at them. Flustered, Maggie engaged the maneuvering thrusters again, just missing the boulder only to have three more appear behind it. Instinctively, she continued pushing the ship upwards, further from Lammergeir and from the bulk of the shattered remains of the incoming asteroidals.

“Computer, halt simulation,” Jeremy ordered. Quiet returned as an anxious Lieutenant Pike sat uncomfortably, bracing herself for the berating that was sure to come. “Not too bad, Pike,” Jeremy said, much to everyone’s surprise. “Lesson number three: keep your wits about you even when you’re not one hundred percent successful. Just follow your instincts and do what you can to get the ship out of danger.”

Savoie paused and scanned the faces of the other officers. For all his bluster and questionable people skills, he wasn’t a bad teacher and he trusted in the abilities of those in his department. “I think I’ve made the important points I wanted to remind everyone of. It may look like we’re just ‘parked’ here, but it’s a vastly more dangerous situation than it seems. Remember that.” He paused again, letting the seriousness of his expression reinforce his words.

“Until further notice, I want each of you spending at least half a shift beyond your normal duty shift running through the various simulations I’ve programmed into the holodeck computer. Don’t let your first experience in this nightmare be on the real bridge. Understood?” A unison of “Yes, sir’ s” answered.

“If you fuck up this ship you’d better pray the captain throws you in the brig before I find you,” Savoie responded in his classic curmudgeonly fashion. “Now get the hell out of here.”

Pilot Tyten

"Origins"

Tyten sat at the curbside eating his piece of jor'thal candy. It was his favorite candy that he had tasted in his three years of existance. He smiled as he sucked on one edge of the stick shaped candy. He liked how if he sucked on it long enough, it came to a fine point and then he would tease his sister with it. He always got in trouble for it, but for that short moment, it was a lot of fun.

"Tyten, honey! Time to go dear," his mother's voice called out to him.

He looked at her and smiled. Today was market day. Every third cycle, his mother brought him into the central city to shop for things that were unique; things that would not be the same if they were replicated.

He jumped up and started to run to her, his arms flailing wildly at his sides. "Mama!" he screeched in delight.

And suddenly, the once clear path to his mother was blocked. A tall figure dressed a black robe stood in front of him. With not enough time to stop, he ran straight into the person causing him to fall down. Looking up, confused, a hood prevented him from seeing the person's face.

His mother screamed as three more figures appeared around a corner and started to drag her away. The person standing in front of him leaned down and picked him up. It was at that moment that time seemed to slow. He saw his mother fighting pointlessly against her assailants her arm outstretched towards him, calling out his name.

He tried to get out of the strong grasp that now held him. He called out for her, but it was of no use. He tried even harder to escape, but as before, his efforts were in vain. This time, however, he dropped his candy. It fell to the street and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Tyten sat up quickly in his bed. He was sweating and found himself short of breath. He sat for a moment and cleared his head. It had always taken him a moment to realize that these nightmares were not real. Since he could remember, his dreams had been filled with strange, disturbing, and sometimes distorted images of people he no longer knew or remembered. He had called that woman 'mama' before, but her face was unfamiliar.

"Computer, any responses to Tyten inquiry One-A?"

"There are no responses to Tyten inquiry One-A," the computer immediately answered.

It didn't surprise him. It had been nearly ten years since he had made the request and in that time there had never been any. Why would tonight be any different?

He laid back down and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. As he drifted back to sleep, the fleeting thought passed through his mind that he may never find out who he really was.

"On camera?"

Maj Saladin Bolivar
Lt(jg) Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar

Saladin fed the hookspider as he waited for Ahdjiia to come home. THis interview silliness was something that gave him a massive headache and the last thing he wanted to do was speak to some reporter and answer a dozen stupid questions.

He absent mindedly ignored the spider that was chewing on teh chunk of meat when it bit his finger.

Jumping back with a foul curse he inspected the wound and watched the spider scatter. It was so tempting to crush it with a shoe but.... he had a soft spot for the grumpy bugger.

Ahdjiia strode in with a fresh supply of fat bloodworms for her Little Ones that Sciences were breeding for her. She kissed Saladin on the cheek and started to greet her Little Ones as they approached.

Saladin growled slightly as she came in and he flexed his injured fingers. But seeing her made him smile again. Though he tried to hide the bitemark from her. "How has your day been?"

She did see the bite, and noted that it was just punctures without the vivid red swelling from an envenomed bite. Ahdjiia softly chastened the hook spider about getting too eager with it's food.

The spider's legs drooped a bit as it accepted the lecture and scooted back in apology.

"A pleasant one.", she said with a smile to her husband, "I did finish some things I'd been neglecting as of late."

"Like our lovelife?" he teased her and flexed his sore hand, "I didn't want to get him in trouble.." he indicated the hook spider, "he has my personality sometimes."

"Your winning him over is what decided things for the rest.", she said with a soft smile, "He is quite protective of the others."

He smiled and gently kissed her lips. "I heard a distressing rumor today...that a foolish reporter was running around asking for interviews?"

"I wouldn't say he's foolish. Skittish around the Little Ones, yes."

He raised two eyebrows at that one, "He was HERE?"

"Yes.", Ahdjiia said, "It was a short interview with quite innocent questions."

He looked distressed as she spoke, "I did not wish you to do the interview."

"Out of respect for your privacy, I did not list your surname with mine.", she said, not quite seeing what the big deal was.

He paused and looked more irritated then anything, "Still reporters are mostly spies and intelligance officers, the questions they ask...." He sighed and sat down, "Ahdjiia I just wish to avoid revealing too much."

Then he walked to the monitor, "I was going to call my father anyway. This might also affect the family."

"He just asked about me, nothing even remotely noteworthy as far as anything else."

Saladin smiled and took her hand in his. "I am a paranoid person love." Then he let her sit in his lap, "Should we call now or have some...alone time."

"Call now so we have the evening to ourselves.", Ahdjiia said with a soft smile as she put her arms around him.

He kissed her, "This is why I love you Thy'la...so practical."

"As are you.", she said after she returned the kiss.

He let his hand brush her breast then he nuzzled her neck softly, "but once we'er off the commline..."

"Make the call.", Ahdjiia chuckled.

He chuckled again. "Yes dear." Then he hugged her before helping her off his lap.

Walking to the companel he stopped to give the hook spider a little scratch to show him he wasn't angry with him. Then he began to go through the rituals of calling home.

Ahdjiia busied herself with what needed to be done around thier quarters so Saladin had his privacy to make the call.

Once he got through he spoke to his father explaining about the reporter.

Charlamagne rubbed his chin then stopped as he underwent a coughing jag that caused his face to grow red and blotchy. "My boy we should embrace the future now..."

"What?"

"the Confederation can only live isolated for so long, you have married off world and not been executed the old ways are dying out...perhaps you should give an interview... Your wife did...."

"But the risk..."

"Is minimal... As a matter of fact, where is your lovely spouse?"

Saladin looked around and waved Ahdjiia over, "My father wishes to speak to you."

Ahdjiia walked over. "Greetings.", she said with a smile to Charlamagne.

Charlamagne smiled then coughed a bit more before speaking again, "I understand you spoke to the reporter earlier...do you think he was a spy?"

"No.", she said, "I would imagine spies would not be so skittish around the Little Ones."

"Would you tell my son that it is ok to speak to the reporter?" It was his exaggerated politeness that ment to him he was about to give an order.

"Of course.", she said.

Saladin frowned slightly then looked at her and his father. "I take it I have been outvoted on this matter?"

"You have been." Charlamagne said, "Just do not discuss the standard things and for the love of the fates smile...." He then looked at Ahdjiia, "Does my son ever smile?"

"He has been known to on rare occasions.", Ahdjiia said with a soft smile.

"Well make sure he smiles for the interviewer. Hell you two do one together. Show the world we're just like them."

"I shall."

"Good good..." He dipped his head to both of them then signed off abruptly.

Saladin leaned back in a chair and looked at his wife, "I guess we talk to the reporter."

"Or you can do this yourself.", Ahdjiia said, "All the better to cover things should any enemy of yours think they can strike me through you."

"Though I was 'advised' to do one with you, why don't I do one myself then see if they wish to do one together...." He slipped his arms around her waist and began to nibble on her neck.

"I was just thinking of how you get that eyetwitch when I put your surname with mine.", she smiled as she tilted her head to the side for him to have more neck to taste.

He began to nibble on her earlobe and hugged her gently, "My father....he makes a wise point that if we keep being secreteive and keeping people away, they will not know us, that is why I was appointed to the Galaxy."

"And I do know your insistance on privacy concidering your position."

He nodded and let his hands brush along her belly then along the bottoms of her breasts as he nipped at her collarbone. "Yeah... I will speak to this reporter, would you like to do an interview wth me?"

"Do your interview first, see how comfortable you are with it.", she said, "Then we will see where things go from that."

He kissed her softly, "I will." His arms rightened around her and kissed her lips tenderly again then nuzzled her neck. "Though tomorrow..."

Ahdjiia just chuckled and pulled her husband closer.

"Oh, What To Do?"

by
Dr. Janelle Reynolds
CMO

Janelle was bored. There wasn't much going on in her life right now. That was depressing in itself.

"I'm going home. No use hanging out here right now. Let me know if there is some great catastrophy otherwise, don't bother me." Janelle left and went home. She sat on her couch in her lonely quarters and listened to some contemporary classical music. It was relaxing and she fell asleep.

Two hours passed and she woke up. She had dreamed about her sister and that was what woke her up. The lost of her twin was very hard on her. She decided that home was not the best place for her. She left to get herself a drink, a strong one.

"Trust Kira to find Pole Dancing as fun recreation"

by
Ensign Kira Murphy,
Paed Doc & Pole-dancing Stripper

Kira grinned as she stepped through the door that led from the docking bay into one of the public areas of the 'roughest asteroid that you can find'.

Smiling when she saw all the bright neon signs, she headed towards an establishment that seemed to be tacky enough to have what she wanted.

Winking to a bulky man at the door, he gulped and let her pass into the bar. Entering, she ignored the hang of smoke and passed through the entrance corridor. Coming to a big door, she pushed it open and passed through.

Inside, she found a lot of men watching very scantily clad women stripping on a long stage and spinning around poles. The women seemed to be almost floating as they moved across the stage. Moving over to the bar, she ignored the hand that grabbed and groped her.

Coughing to get attention, she winked towards the stage, "Who looks after the entertainment? Third door down"

He pointed towards a bead curtain at the back, and Kira headed towards it. Pushing past the curtain, she passed down a corridor and knocked at the correct door.

Waiting until someone called out, she entered a small office.

"Wadda ya want?"

"A temporary job."

Getting up, the man walked over to her and looked her up and down.

"Nice, but what do you look like without your clothes on?"

Shrugging, she undid the catch and slid out of her grav-suit, letting it fall to the ground. Without asking, he reached out and squeezed her breasts.

She didn't mind and did a turn for him when he motioned her to.

"Okay. You have a job. When can you start?"

"Now if you want."

"Good. Head down to the end and they will give you a costume. Dancing is good, but if you want to earn more, we have lap-dancing at the back. You can get more if they can do what they want to you."

Kira smiled happily, leaving the room carrying her suit.

Within ten minutes, Kira was out dancing nude and spinning around the poles, happily showing off.

"Relics of the Mooch's Lair"

By Lt. JG Dr. Klaus Fienberg

Location: Stiener's Inventions and Novelties, Promenade Lower Level

-Why the hell did he leave me this hole?-

Dr. Fienberg stood outside the closed doors of the Abandoned shop, pondering of what could possibly be of any use.

The Doors opened with the turn of the simple key lock Stiener installed. Inside, the shop was just as he left it. Duplicates of Archealogical treasures, all fakes. Cheap crystals, toys, and other worthless inventions, like a new kind of double wide toothbrush to brush the entire mouth in 2 fell swoops(3 if you count the tounge.) There were books, illegal books, numerous antique datapads. A Non-functional older type-2 phaser, still with the original pistol clip style powerpack. The ID tag on the bottom of the pack scratched and damaged. All that showed up was USS E---. The number was also there as well. 936. Also scratched out was the Vessel Call number. A fascinating Artifact, Klaus pocketed it.

-Odd little phaser. Doubt works anymore. Cmdr. Corgan may like it. Hell, he'd probably confiscate it anyway.-

Continuing to rifle through the junk, he found the real stuff. An odd barbed device. -One of those odd Ferengi Ear Tickler devices? Yes.....thats ear mucous.-

Not much more in this area, he moved on to the back room. Low and behold. The Head of a Fembot. The rest of it was gone, probably amoung those confiscated by Commander Maddox. But Stiener had kept the head. It lay on the table, the back of the skull laying near it on the table, the androids brain open and obviously tinkered with.

Moving on from that sight, he rifled through the numerous peices of equipment laying around.

What he saw next warranted speech. "My word. He forgot his Arm-Articulator Unit." The strange device that Stiener tried to use to regain the use of his dead arm sat there, unused, and apparantly slightly modified. On the Shoulder Mount of the device were a new set of wires that hung a good distance. -Well isn't this interesting. What could they be for? Possible link directly to the spinal cord?-

Next to it lay a PaDD. An older one, but it was still functional. Turning it on immediatly displayed a message for Klaus. It was written in their native language of German.

DIRECT TRANSLATION

Dear Klaus.

Perhaps you can continue my research on the device where I left off. I am Not a doctor, nor am I well versed in prosthetics, but I beleived I could use my engineering experiance to come up with a way to re-articulate my damaged arm. Although I managed to get it to work by moving muscles in my back, that was not efficient enough. Far from efficient and too unpredictable. I said that I had a possibility of Re-instatment into Starfleet, but It is actually garrenteed. I will have a desk job at Starfleet Command, but if I can show that my ability to function on a ship is returned through any process, than I can get an assignment aboard a ship.

As you can see, I extended the length of the impulse reception wires in an attempt to possible tap into the Spinal Cord. Unfortunately, this did not work. It nearly broke my arm. Too many stray signals to the rest of the body. If there was a way to isolate the signals that originally went to the arm, then perhaps it would be possible to accomplish what I originally wanted.

Included on this PaDD are the full original plans, all the modifications through it's development, and the final modifications to the point where it is as of now. Take these and handle the prototype with care, for it is the only won and I know you don't have the skills or the authorization to create another one.

Take Care, My Brother
Erik Stiener.

Klaus set the PaDD back where he found it. -Wonder if there are any other relics for me to procure here?-

There was a final curtain in the back of the room. He swiped if over slowly.

-Still a Gimp I see.-

The black leather suit hug on the wall, as if put there with great care. A Single note on a peice of what appeared to be paper stuck to it. Written in english...

MESSAGE

----

Enjoy!

Erik.

----

Klaus shook his head, laughing to himself. He picked up the arm-articulator, and PaDD and walked out.

"Broken Wings" Part 1 of 2

Principal Characters:

Lt. Curtis Geluf
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
10-Forward

"...heard that he convinced everyone that it was an 'evil twin' that did all those things on the Defiant last year, and not really him. Can you believe that? And they bought it!"

Victor considered favoring the whisperer with a glance, but decided against it. Let the man think what he wanted, let him believe what he wanted. The Defiant was dead, destroyed, and that was all that mattered about that. It couldn't hurt anyone again. He'd done his job, and if the sheep didn't understand, or care, well, that was all right too. They didn't have to."

"I heard that he was the one that really killed all those people last year, too - and that he made that Klingon Princess give up the General for it."

"How'd he manage that?"

"How do you think, dummy? He got her in the sack for, like two-three days right before it happened."

"No way!"

"Yes way. I saw the requests that went in to Supply during that time for things you wouldn't believe." The speaker lowered his voice. "Cheese Whiz, man, they ordered three gallons of Cheese Whiz!"

That was it. Victor didn't mind being blamed for the things he'd done and the way he'd done them, but he was not going to take the blame for Leo Streely of all people. He was going to be transferred anyway, what was another reprimand for menacing crewmen? He turned, a smile already starting to spread across his face as he started to rise.

Curtis entered 10-forward slightly worried. He had, of course, heard the comments made by the crewmen before he'd even stepped through the door but he wasn't clear on the gravity of the situation until he looked towards Victor.

He was going to have to act fast, or the crewmen would end up as stains on the carpet.

"Victor!" he called across the lounge, "Sorry I'm late! I was held up in the office."

The two crewmen looked up; eyes wide like Terran prairie dogs. The speaker, one of the ratings from Operations, visibly blanched and his glass fell to the floor from nerveless fingers as he saw Victor standing and in the act of moving his way. The other rating at the table simply pushed away from the table and turned to run.

Victor stopped at Curtis' words and nodded once. "Geluf." He favored the remaining rating with a smile that stopped the man's breathing. "Thought you weren't going to make it."

"Had to sort through some transfers and the like. In fact, I believe my crewmen are due for their shift in about 10 minutes." Curtis said, casting his gaze towards the two gossipers.

"All right, I won't keep them long." Victor leaned down to the crewman and said softly. "For the record, Chief, it was Streeley that slept with the Princess, not me. Keep your scandals straight."

The man nodded once, wide eyes on Victor as the security officer stepped back and turned away.

"Sorry about that, Geluf," Victor appeared unconcerned about the incident, as if it had never happened, while they walked back through the arc of empty tables that spread out from the corner where Victor traditionally chose to sit. "Had to correct some bad information."

"So I see." the Kerelian nodded, "Those two aren't exactly the shinning stars of my department. Did you order already?"

"Coffee," Victor said tonelessly as he sat back down and picked up his half-empty cup. "I was early."

Curtis turned towards the waiter, "Hmm...I think I'll just have some French Vanilla."

Victor was silent as Curtis ordered, eyes moving across the room restlessly, like a watchful animal's. He frowned once, quickly, as his gaze swept over the far side of the room, Curtis' mind sorting the expression out from the wide range of frowns that he'd seen Victor use as indicating displeasure, but Victor wiped the expression away as his eyes moved on. "Something on your mind, Geluf?" he asked as Curtis finished his order.

"Well...not so much on MY mind." the Kerelian answered, he couldn't believe he was about to ask Victor.

Victor took a sip from his coffee. "Whose then?"

Curtis flushed a bit, "Well, I'm no good at this, so I might as well just level with you. I've been talking with Ella."

Victor looked at him silently, without blinking, for longer than Curtis thought reasonable, before he replied. "You've been talking to Grey." It wasn't a question the way he repeated it, but a statement.

"Uh, yeah. Is that alright?" Curtis asked, a little guilty.

"You don't need my permission to talk to anyone, Geluf."

"Yeah, well. Since the conversation was about you, I didn't want to get you upset or anything. We talked for quite a long time as a matter of fact," the Kerelian said.

"People talk about me all the time, Geluf. Your ratings, O'Rourke's coffee klatch crew, the fighter pilots, the rest of Security - sooner or later everyone does it. Nothing to feel bad about." Disturbingly, his voice didn't register any of the microtremors that Curtis would have associated with suppressed frustration or anger. It was just... dead.

That wasn't entirely true, and Victor knew it. If there were anyone aboard that he would not want to talk about him that way it would be Grey. But they weren't friends any more, so that made it okay - or close enough that it didn't hurt. Not yet anyway. "If you and Grey want to talk about me, you can too."

"No, dammit, it's not like that at all!" Curtis said in surprise. Why was he always so sure people were saying bad things about him? "Ella's upset, Victor, really upset."

"If you were talking about me, I understand why," Victor returned in his dead man's voice. "Try talking to her about something else that won't make her mad."

"No, no, no. Not 'mad' upset, she's confused, she doesn't know what she thinks. But she doesn't want to distance herself from you." Curtis replied.

"She was mad when I saw her last - and that's okay. It's better for her, better for you, better for everyone, Geluf, if you get mad and walk away. I'll be transferred off as soon as M'kantu returns and he can find someone who hasn't seen my personnel file to take me."

"Maybe she was mad then, but she isn't any more. She cares about you Victor. You may not believe it, but it's true. I do too, but not like her. With her it's different, there's more to it than friendly coffee meetings like we have." The Ops chief explained. Victor was going to have to understand, Curtis would have to make him understand.

Victor frowned. Of course she'd been his friend; that was why he'd done what he'd done to push her away. It was better for her to get used to not being friends now than let it linger. "It doesn't matter, Geluf," he said slowly. "Like I said, better to be mad now, before I leave."

"I wish you'd cut that out. We don't know if you're being transferred or not." Curtis pointed out. A broken record, this guy was.

"Of course I'm being transferred. I'm always transferred," Victor returned with a calm certainty. "I'm always left behind. That's the way it works, Geluf."

"I admit the track record so far hasn't been great in that aspect." The Kerelian sighed, "But still, you can't be sure. From what I've gathered of our captain, he's the surprising type."

"Not that way. We covered that in my interview already. I'm gone as soon as he finds a place for me somewhere else." Victor shrugged. "I'd transfer me if I were him."

"Why? I still don't understand that."

"Because I'm not like you, Geluf, that's why. I'm not like them," he indicated the occupied tables on the other side of the room, "either. I'm a predator and the rest of you aren't." He sipped at his coffee, untouched by his words. "I'll be transferred because I'm a tiger, Geluf, and the galaxy is filled with sheep. It doesn't matter that I'm guarding you from the other tigers, I'm still a tiger, and no sheep born wants a tiger mingling in their flock no matter what the reason."

"I must be a pretty lousy sheep then." Curtis shrugged, "Cause that's not what I'd do."

Victor shrugged. "Maybe so - but you aren't responsible for all of the sheep on the Galaxy, either. You make decisions that are disagreeable personally when you're in that position, decisions that are for the good of the many, not the good of the one. That's what Command is all about." He sipped his coffee again.

"I don't need to take Command class from you all over again Victor." Curtis smirked, "But yeah, this isn't about what I'd do I guess, it's about the Captain. But we've gotten a little off topic."

"No," Victor said softly. "It has everything to do with the topic. The Captain is going to transfer me, and it's better for everyone to walk away now. Mad or not, the sooner that happens, the sooner you will get over it and move on."

"But what about you? What do you think of all of this?"

"Me? What I want doesn't matter, Geluf. It never has." He finished the last of his coffee, his voice still that dead, and certain monotone. "I'm here to do my job and keep the sheep safe. I'll do that wherever they send me." He looked at Curtis for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side. "I didn't join the fleet to get to do what I like to do, Geluf. I joined to give me a reason to do it to the right people."

"Broken Wings" Part 2 of 2

Principal Characters:

Lt. Curtis Geluf
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
10-Forward

"But what about you? What do you think of all of this?"

"Me? What I want doesn't matter, Geluf. It never has." He finished the last of his coffee, his voice still that dead, and certain monotone. "I'm here to do my job and keep the sheep safe. I'll do that wherever they send me." He looked at Curtis for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side. "I didn't join the fleet to get to do what I like to do, Geluf. I joined to give me a reason to do it to the right people."

"Ella isn't just going to let it go Victor. She's confused right now. She's feeling things she's never let herself feel before and it scares her," Curtis noted. It was true; of course, she was a wreck over Victor.

"She needs to let it go." Victor set his empty coffee mug down. "I'm going to be transferred. There's no point in making this worse than it already is. All of you need to let it go."

"You keep saying that." The Kerelian took a drink from his cup, "But it isn't magically making that happen. Ella is very fragile emotionally, plus she's a woman. And I should know about women, I married one, and she can read my thoughts no less."

Curtis cleared his throat a bit, "What I'm trying to get across here is that you need to talk this out with her. She wants to know how you feel; even if you think it's unimportant, it is to her. The big question here, Victor, is do you care about her?"

Victor looked at him for a moment, his eyes as unreadable as ever. "Care about her, how?" he finally asked, his tone still even and dead.

"Care about her in any way at all really. I'll settle for any facet." Curtis sighed. Victor was more Vulcan than Vulcans, but in an odd kind of way. Vulcans were emotionless, yes, but you could at least see in their eyes the inner workings of the mind. You could tell they were thinking. With Victor, you couldn't see anything and if you let yourself think on it too long, you couldn't really be sure his eyes had any color.

"I don't understand what you mean," Victor replied after a moment. "We talk, like you and I do. We do things together sometimes. But she isn't family."

"You don't have to be related to someone to care about them. It's a different kind of feeling," the Kerelian pointed out.

Victor frowned. "There are three kinds of people, Geluf. There are people that are just people. That's almost everyone. There are people that you talk to. That's a small number; I've only met a dozen or so in my life. And then there are people that are family, that's the smallest number. I only have five of them now, and they aren't all related by blood. You don't have to be related that way to be family, you just have to be..." he paused, obviously trying to find the right word, "...family."

"You forgot about friends, Victor." Curtis said, flatly.

Victor shook his head. "Friends are people I talk to, Geluf."

"But there's more to it. Ella really cares for you and not in any of the ways you've mentioned. Ella cares for you....well...like I care for Kiora." There, he'd said it. Why had that been so difficult?

Victor looked at him blankly. "No she doesn't, Geluf. She isn't family."

"Kiora wasn't family till I married her Victor." Curtis pointed out, "She just won't tell you because she doesn't know how you feel."

Victor frowned for a moment. "You don't have to be married to be family, Geluf. You don't even have to be married to someone for them to be the One." The odd capitalization of the last word was obvious to the Kerelian's sensitive ears.

"Of course." Curtis lifted his glass, "The bottom line here is do you feel anything for Ella? Even a little something?"

"What I feel or want doesn't matter, Geluf. It never has, it never will. There's only what is, that's what I have to work with. Nothing more."

"Ok, yeah, we got that," the Kerelian sighed, "Ok, let's go with that. It doesn't matter. In that case, it couldn't hurt to say how you feel. It isn't going to change anything right? So there should be no problem."

Victor's frown shifted, and he tapped out a request for another coffee before answering. "Geluf," he said slowly. "How many people have there been for you? People that were family?"

"I've got Kiora and my parents really. My sibling too." Curtis answered.

"No, I mean people that you... lovers, Geluf. That's what I mean by family. How many?"

"Oh THAT." The Kerelian almost choked on his coffee. "Well, actually...Kiora was the only one. I mean, I spent a lot of time in my youth just trying to get over what happened on my planet."

The security officer nodded. "And how many opportunities were there? Ones that you decided not to take?"

"A few I suppose. I was too stupid to see it really. Too caught up in my lingering homelessness, planet-wise anyway."

"Two." Victor paused as his coffee arrived and sipped at it. "There were two, for me. I was stupid and took the first one. I shouldn't have. Better to do without. I knew better when the second came."

Victor's statement surprised Curtis a little, "You just didn't even bother with the second one? What had the first one done so wrong to warrant that?"

"I was 23, Geluf. She was the first person that had ever touched me willingly outside my immediate family - and she was like Flight Officer Angelienia." Victor looked across the table. "That's why I knew better the second time."

"That was 10 years ago Vic. You're 33. Ever heard of getting back on the horse?" Curtis asked.

"Why?" Victor sipped at the black coffee. "What would be the point?"

"Because things might be different. I mean, come on Victor, its Ella. I don't think there's anyone on this ship who better understands you." Curtis pointed out.

Victor's frown deepened as he looked over his coffee at Curtis. "There's no point to it, Geluf. Even if I walked out the door and ran into the One as soon as we finished talking, there would be no point. I'm leaving. I always leave. I'm always left behind." The total acceptance of that statement in his voice was worse than any emotional reaction might have been. "That's just the way it is."

"Maybe it IS hopeless Victor. But what you have to understand is that she doesn't care." Curtis put down his cup, a little more forcefully then he intended, "All Ella wants to know is how you feel about her. She just wants something, anything. She's prepared to deal with the consequence of losing you to a transfer. If she wasn't, she wouldn't have asked me to talk to you."

Victor took a swallow of his coffee and set the cup down calmly. "Watch out," he said softly, "you're going to spill your coffee if you don't calm down." He looked at Curtis for a moment, eyes unreadable. "I've told you and I've told grey that what I think or feel, or want doesn't matter, Geluf," he said, voice still soft and even. "I've accepted that for a long time now. Why is it so hard for you? Or her?"

"Point established." Curtis said, "And I'm telling you that if none of it matters what can be the harm of letting on what you think or feel about her? She isn't going to let it go just like that. May seem odd to you, but that's just the way it is. Nothing to be done about it."

Victor looked at him for a moment, blinked, and picked up his coffee, draining half the remaining content in one long swallow. "If I were going to have that conversation with someone, Geluf, you aren't the one I'd have it with." He looked down at the coffee in his mug. "There are two sides to everything, Geluf. You're just seeing hers. Think about mine, for a minute."

This caught Curtis by surprise. Was Victor showing some emotion here? Or was it his imagination?

"You have to understand. I only ask as a favor to her. She asked me if I would and I couldn't say no. My personal opinion on the subject is that you'd be better off talking to her about all this and not a middle man. I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position."

"Yes you did, Geluf," Victor replied calmly, without hint of malice. "You wanted to catch me off-balance and see if I would tell you something. Standard interrogation technique." He finished off the rest of his coffee, regarded the cup, and finally set it down to simply sit and look at Curtis for almost forty seconds in silence.

"I don't like to be angry, Geluf," he said softly, abruptly, his eyes catching Curtis' and holding him there, like a snake might a bird. "It's a bad thing, a very bad thing for the people around me. Worse even, than being around me in the first place. I can deal with what I am, and what you are, and the fact that I'll never be able to be a part of the world the rest of you fit in, but it takes effort some days. Occasionally, especially at the end of a tour, when I know I'm being reassigned, it takes a lot of effort. Especially then, I don't need to be distracted by something that might make me frustrated, or angry."

He smiled briefly, something deadly and cold - and, for a tiny instant, terribly, terribly sad - stirring in the air around him as the expression flickered across his face. "You wouldn't like me when I was angry, Geluf," he said slowly. "And afterwards, after you'd seen me angry, you wouldn't like anything at all, ever again." He blinked and the chill was gone, and he was only Victor again. "Better for everyone that I'm not distracted, that I'm not angry, Geluf. You, Grey, your wife who tries to hide the fact that she wants to scream if we're in the same room, everyone. Let it be, Geluf, just let it be."

Curtis had nothing to say. He'd exhausted all avenues of attack and was frankly rather uncomfortable with the whole thing now. He KNEW there was something there, behind those eyes. Victor had let it slip, if only for a moment. Sadness. But he couldn't even begin to understand any more than that.

"You win." he said at last, "There's a reason my degrees are in Engineering and Warp Field Theory."

"It's because you like to fix things, Geluf," Victor told him in that same soft, quiet voice, "just like you're trying to do now. But no matter how good you are at it, there are just some things too broken to fix."

Curtis sighed, "Maybe Victor, maybe."

"No maybes, Geluf. That's just the way things are." Victor stood smoothly, without warning and stood there, the Gryphon Asteroid belt arrayed behind him in the wide window that comprised the forward wall of the lounge like a pair of ever-shifting, broken wings that Curtis couldn't decide appeared more demonic or angelic.

For a moment, the security officer said nothing, just stood there, and then, as suddenly as he'd stood, said, "Thank you for talking to me Geluf. I'll miss that when I'm gone," the last words not even registering on Curtis' ears before Victor had turned away and started for the door, leaving him to look out at the mass of moving stone in silence.

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"Superheroes... That's us!"

"You sure this is a good idea?" Tom asked, brushing his hair back in the process.

Jiiles scratched his bold blue head and frowned at the younger Lieutenant. Why wouldn't be a good idea? Sure Bolians weren't known for their ingenious suggestions, but hey, who would question a bulldozer of a Bolian anyhow?.... Who but Tom.

"I mean, he seems fine to me. Every time we're all doing something, he gets involved int he action, unless it's us kids partying or something in which case he justs sits back with a couple of drinks and enjoys the scenes that lay out before him."

"Tom," Jiiles almost snapped, "he does a very good job of hiding it. But every now and again, you can catch him off-guard. It's still eating him up. The other Engineers know it, well, some of them."

"Perhaps, or maybe he just gets caught in a bad mood?" Tom suggested.

"I don't want to sound harsh, but stop sticking up for him. That's the other thing, his mood swings. One day he's ok, but probably really brooding in his office where no one can see, then the next day he's brooding in public." Jiiles explained.

The two Engineers slowly walked around a corner of Deck Eight and continued their stride.

"Sounds to me like he's needs more than a speech or drink." Tom added.

"The poor man needs a superhero." Jiiles replied with a smile.

""Superheroes?... That's us!" Tom joked back.

Jiiles came to a halt and held up his hand to stop Tom from The stepped in and saw Ethan stood by the window. He seemed to be deep in thought, but slowly turned to face them when the doors shut behind them.

He didn't even say anything, just remained still and observed his friends actions.

"Hey." Tom eventually piped up, glancing at Jiiles to take the lead who didn't.

Ethan moved over to his desk and sat down in the rather large and comfortable chair. He sighed and looked at the pictur eon his desk before looking over at the guys. "So, what's going on?" he asked bluntly.

"Nothing." Tom blurted out.

"Just thought we'd stop by, see how things are going." Jiiles stepped in forward.

"Ok, cut to the chase. This routine might work with the girls, but not me."

Tom giggled a little and looked at Jiiles. "That's true."

"Not with all of them. Ask Dhani that, she'll see straight through you." Jiiles shot back.

"Ah yeah, heard you two-"

"Guys." Ethan interrupted with raised eyebrows and a tired look.

"Oh." Tom replied.

"Look, we know what's going on, Ethan. And we want to help you. It's been a few years and any normal person would have gotten over this, wouldn't feel..."

"Feel what?" Ethan snapped.

"Well." Tom stepped forward and moved to gesture with his hand but accidently knocked the picture on the corner of Ethan's desk. It fell backwards, flat on the desk. Tom stepped back with a look on his face like Ethan might have strangled him.

Jiiles hesitated before pointing at the picture.

Ethan followed Jiiles' fingers and looked at the picture, now face up. He moved some data padds from one side of his desk to the other and cleared his throat. "It's just a reminder." a quietly mentioned.

"Of what?" Tom asked.

"Of the footsteps that I should follow in."

"You need a picture for that?" Jiiles asked.

Ethan frowned and then laughed at the situation. "You know at my age, memory isn't that good."

"Got ya." Tom said looking around Ethan's quarters. "But it just seems a little-"

"Look guys," Ethan interrupted again, "I appreciate your concern, but there's nothing to worry about."

"But you're always be yourself, keeping really busy." Jiiles noted.

"I like the work. There's nothing quite like being at the heart of the ship, you know that. As for my time, I like my own personal space. A good book... that sort of thing."

"Come on." Tom said.

Ethan stood up with a sigh and replaced the picture to it's proper position. "Look, what is it you want from me, another ass-whiping in the holodeck, a game of cards, advice on how to get the perfect woman?" He paused as he moved around his desk. "I can do all of the above, minus the last one."

"Ain't that right." Jiiles commented.

"Look you guys, I'm good. It's a busy life being the Chief. There are always ups and downs. More ups I think, having a little trouble sleeping sure, but that's it. I'm fine."

"I don't think so." Jiiles commented. "Everyone knows it, us, Michael, hell, I'll bet Dhani and Ella are in on it too."

"Ok, so let's say they are, so what?"

"So there is something?" Tom asked.

Ethan frowned and looked at the floor. At this moment in time, he wouldn't mind being anywhere else. This was going to be a pain in the ass. They weren't going to go away for a simple 'I'm ok' routine. "So what do you want, a bedtime story?"

"Works for me." Jiiles replied with a chuckle.

Ethan moved behind his desk and picked up a couple of objects. Throwing a glass over to Tom and a bottle to Jiiles, he moved over to the couch with another two glasses in hand. "Well, take a seat, this could take a while, but seriously, there's nothing up."

"We'll be the judge of that." Tom said sitting down opposite Ethan.

"Well aren't you two a couple of superheroes." Ethan mumbled.

Tom and Jiiles shared a laugh before pouring out a couple of drinks...

"The Forgotten Strawberry"

by
Turan Trelar,
Quentite ambassador,
former boy scout and probably future plant deliverer and micro-farm owner

OOC: Help - Quentite agriculture expert searching for work. Please don't hesitate to mail.

Can you imagine sitting in a small room with just a bed, a cabinet, a desk and a chair for weeks? Sooner or later, the blue-gray duranium walls building Turan's room started to move, continuously approaching each other.

The size of the rooms furniture did its best to intensify that impression. Who ever was responsible for the vessels interior design didn't seem to spend many thoughts on Quentites or other non-standard sized species coming aboard. Even with the chairs on its highest setting, Turan was not able to find a convenient position to do his studies. So finally, Turan decided to move his office to an outdoor location.

If there anyhow was a place on a spaceship somebody dared to call 'outdoor' it was the room called arboretum. Somewhere deep in the belly of the giant duranium monster which swallowed him few weeks ago, the Quentite boy found a place that looked a little bit like a jungle - although it was just a few square feet full of vegetation. The wasn't any too small chair to torture his backbones - there wasn't any chair at all.

Turan didn't need one. He sat on the soft soil, laid back at one of the large rocks he found there. A pencil danced over the drawing-pad that laid on his knees, filling it with rather detailed drafts of starship furniture objects.

Turan looked up from his pad. There was something just a step away that drew his attention. He dropped his drawing-pad to have a closer look at the plant. The tiny plant, not bigger than his palm was in a poor shape with all of its leaves withered and the fruits dried up. The plant seemed to have put the last remains of its life energy into one last effort to have a descendant. At the end of the plants only tiny green branch hung a ripe fruit of dark red color.

Who ever seeded that plant seemed to have forgotten is. Or maybe he transfered to an other assignment or even killed in a battle like one the galaxy recently was involved in.

Carefully not to damage its fragile roots Turan started to dig out the small almost dead plant, keeping it with a god amount of the much too dry soil. Probably he would be able to revive the plant or at least seed the plants seeds that covered the fruit like a dark fur.

Robert Biessman,
Tactical officer

Robert sat in his quarters like he usually did since he arrived on the Galaxy, he woke up each morning and went to do his shift and he always came back to his quarters and just sit there doing nothing, or work on new recipes that he looked up on the ships database. He knew he had to get out sometime, but he didn’t really want to right now, before coming to the Galaxy he had a huge fight wwith his parents and they told him not ever to go back and see them, for all they knew he never existed. It really hurt him but he couldn’t stop what he loved doing just because his parents didn’t like it.

"Computer start music," Robert said sitting down on a chair thinking what to play, "Great big sea: sea of no cares."

"Affirmative," came the computers reply. The music started a little too loud.

"Computer turn the music down two decibels." Robert said as he got up from the chair. He walked over to the computer and turned it on, brought out the latest news.

"Hello, I am dennis Trudel and this is the six o’clock evening news. Top story Captain David Carey and the Resolution is back from the Breen space, where we have just learned of a battle ensuing against breen rebels. Out of a total of 100 ships that partook in the battle, including 20 Federation ships, 20 klingon ships and sixty Breen ships were against the Rebel fleet that was estimated 15 percent of the Breen military. The total casualty report has not been made yet, but out of that 100 ship fleet only six made it out. Which included 3 federation, 2 klingon and one Breen. The rebel fleet was destroyed no ships remained. In other news the former Damon tog has again tried to kill Captain picard while he was on shore leave he was on Betazed when Tog apparently walked up behind picard and shot him with a phaser. Security quickly apprehended the ferengi and rushed captain picard to the nearest medical facility, where it is said he’ll make a full recovery."

Robert shut the computer off, his former Captain was lucky to get out of that one, he got up and walked over to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, he took out some meat out.

About a half hour later his meal was ready and he started listening to some more of great big seas music. He sat down and started to eat, just when his door chimed. He got up and and answered it.

"Hello, I am Greta Pullman your new neighbour," The woman said.

"Hi Robert Biessman, please come in." Robert said. "I am just sitting down to eat, may I get you anything?"

"Uhmm...," She said, thinking about it. "Well... I guess I could have a little bit."

Robert walked to the kitchen and took another plate out of the cupboard and filled a plate for her. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Greta said, as she cut a piece of steak and took a bite. "You are a good cook."

"Thank you" Robert said simple as he took a bite of his own, "I took a course on cooking before joining the academy, I guess it came in handy."

"It sure did," Greta said with a smile, "I haven’t seen you out around the ship, I must miss you each time."

"Actually you don’t miss me I don’t go out unless it is to do my shift," Robert said simply.

"You don’t make many friends that way," Greta said.

"I suppose not but it is not a good time for me with my family." Robert said.

"Oh whats wrong?" Greta asked

"They were against me going to starfleet, and now since I have joined the Galaxy, they forbid me to go back home to see them, so I am pretty well all alone now."

"You are not alone there is the crew here to help you," Greta said.

"Yeah I guess you are right." Robert agreed, "I’ll try to get out and tour the ship with in the next few days."

"You’d better, or I might get my husband to come and drag you out." Greta said finishing her plate. "Well thank you for the meal, I gotta get going and fix up my quarters, before my husband gt back from work."

"Where does he work?"

"He is just one of the guys who works at the lounge up a couple of decks, one of the least favourite hangouts on the ship."

"I see," Robert said. "He stood up to show her the door, well its been nice meeting you Greta, maybe next time you can bring your husband"

"I will," Greta said as she walked out the door.

After she left Robert sat back down on the chair and turned on the music once again, he looked at the time, it was only 7 o’clock in the evening, another eight hours until his next shift started. He picked up the book he had started reading several nights before ‘The rise and fall of WWE’ it was about the rise of a wrestling company run by a vincent McMahon in the late 1980's and the fall of it in the late 2030's. He had watched several matches, he especially liked the wrestlers Steve Austin, and Chris Benoit, and the Heart Break kid.

After an hour of reading that he set the book down on the table and rested his eyes some. Staring at the book all that time was really straining on the eyes. That what padds came in handy for but he was brought up with books so he preferred that. He got up and walked to his bedroom, since he was to start his shift in seven hours he had to get up at two to get ready.

"Computer dim lights." Robert said.

"Affirmative." Came the computers reply.

With the lights out Robert drifted quickly to sleep.

"Reason to Live"

Lieutenant Corran Rex,
Vanguard One

Corran tapped absently at the PADD in his hands, arranging this weeks training schedule. He'd decided to leave it a bit light, to allow some chance for visits to the asteroids. They sounded like an interesting place. The crew thought so, certainly - the shuttles were all booked up.

The advantage of being a fighter pilot, however, was that he was never without a ride. Vanguard One was officially requisitioned equipment to Vanguard Squadron, not the USS Galaxy. There were benefits to technically being a separate command, such as a Starfighter Unit. Therefore, the Lieutenant needed no ones authorization but his own to take her out. A pilot's fighter was his, he was a firm believer of that, and it was a policy he allowed for all his personnel. Most pilots he knew did, and it was practically an unofficial policy in the Starfighter Corps.

Perhaps he would take a cruise later, at that. Or possibly even just a flight through the belt - asteroid belts were notoriously difficult to navigate. That was, of course, why pilots loved them so.

"Hell with it." he said, and tapped his commbadge even as he was putting the PADD down. "Rex to Flight Deck"

["Stalansky."] came the reply of the crew chief.

"Get my fighter ready, Sergeant. I'm going out for a spin." the Trill ordered, as he picked his helmet up from the shelf.

["Right on, boss. She'll be ready for ya."]

"Good man." the Trill replied with a smile, and closed the comm. Before he left the office, he was careful to take one of his injections. Wouldn't do to loose.. Himself when he was busy dodging asteroids.

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

Vanguard One emerged from the flight deck at the rear of the Galaxy at the top speed that was allowed, (actually, slightly faster than that, but no one needed to know.)

He pressed the small starfighter up to full impulse then, taking on the asteroid course as fast as he possibly could. Corran began to slip into what pilots called 'the zone' - almost a complete switchover to the situational awareness required to be a starfighter pilot.

He flew almost entirely on instinct, narrowly dodging one asteroid after another, skimming the surfaces so closely that he had to disable the automatic antigravity repulsors on the bottom of the ship.

This was living.

"Death Becomes Her"

With Ensign Zeke Wikkins,
Security

and
Constable Silas Thane of the Lammergeir Peace Battalion.

Also including a handful of unauthorized guest stars.

(*Author's note:A tip of the hat to Chris for crafting a slick setting for me to play with. This post will touch upon the contrast in law enforcement styles between the Federation and the frontier folk if you will. That's just a fancy way of saying things could get zany.)

Location:The Lammergeir Asteroid, Gryphon Cluster

Previously on the USS Galaxy: With their arrival at the Gryphon Asteroid Cluster, the crew of the Federation's flagship was free to explore the area both professionally and recreationally. Seeing an incredible opportunity, Commander Corgan asked Ensign Zeke Wikkins to meet with Constable Silas Thane for a 'ride along' with the L.P.B .

"Zeke, your gonna wanna watch your step now. them gravity fields will twist a man's stomach in knots." Constable Silas Thane began before the smile on the bearded man's round, weathered face turned into a look of amused concern as he watched the mammoth Starfleet security officer attempt to navigate the Lammergeir's unique gravity fields.

Ensign Zeke Wikkins' face flushed an awful shade of green as waves of nausea cascaded over him, threatening to wash him away. He staggered towards the nearest railing and hung his head over the side of the catwalk.

Constable Thane chuckled deeply and pointed at the black and yellow stripes that served as a warning of the conflicting gravity fields. "I don't know if you want to hang your hat there, my friend."

The wet, retching sound told him that the Starfleet officer had paid him no heed. Vomit spewed from Zeke's mouth and towards an unsuspecting couple kissing passionately on a bench a couple levels below him before taking a series of sharp turns and riding the gravity waves back up into his own face.

"Told you so." the Constable said, making no effort to hide his amusement.

"Father...in ...heaven..." Zeke gasped as he removed his tunic to wipe his face.

Thane slapped him on his broad back with a thick, beefy hand. "You' ll be fine."

Wikkins coughed violently then stood with his hands on his hips, breathing deeply and clearing his throat. "I have never before seen such madness! Not even after eating those mushrooms in Uncle Caleb's farm and having hallucinations about being chased by a three legged starship with fish fins. How thou manage to walk without spewing forth thy own entrails is a mystery to me on par with how Elija the smythe used to shoe horses when he had no arms with which to do so."

"You get used to it." Thane said barely able to hold back a hearty laugh as the large Ensign shook his head. "Come. Let us go get something to put back in that stomach of yours and get the taste out of your mouth, no?"

The two men walked down one of the gangways through the various music troupes, dancing revelers and blinking lights of the festival currently being celebrated by the Lammergier people. They stopped at one of the many vending areas and the Constable ordered a fleshy sandwich wrapped in a thick green leaf. The Security officer sniffed the creation, then took a small nibble.

"This is actually quite enjoyable." Zeke said eating greedily."I would like to have the recipe."

"It is..how you say...the stones of a Myrnak beast." Thane said pointing to his pelvis then giggling once again as the Security Officer vomited for the second time, flinging the wrap across the street and into the lap of a legless beggar who thanked him for his charity.

"Now Silas, are you torturing that poor boy?" asked a woman in brightly colored robes walking down the wall next to a skitterish dark skinned Starfleet Officer in Science blues who appeared captivated by a large plant growing seemingly out of the rock beneath them or next to Wikkins, depending on which side of the gravity well you were standing on.

"Evening Dr. Chhou" Thane said removing his cap. "Don't worry about him. Just a small case of the bends is all. You two enjoy the festival."

Further down the block near a stand with a bearded dwarf entertaining children by placing his head in the mouth off a reptile over twice his size, the constable's hand seemed to chirp.

He raised his arm revealing a communicator fastened to the back of his hand and pressed the button.

"Thane. Go ahead....."

["Constable, it's Garibaldi..You better get over to the Winking Pink. There's been an incident."]

"Copy that. I'm on my way." he replied closing the channel and shifting to all business, even loosing the twang in his voice.

Moments later Thane and Wikkins were swimming through the gathered crowd of the Winking Pink Cabaret. Women gyrated on three stages to pulsing to Kix's underrated power ballad "Don't Close your eyes". Every corner of the room seemed to be filled with sin reminding the Amish officer of a modern day Sodom.

Zeke eyed the crowd suspiciously. He noticed a group of Cardassians at the far table and off to thier left, hiding in the shadows, and a pair of Breen leaning over and talking with a ragged looking Klingon. As he made his way into the back rooms, Wikkins thought one of the nude dancers even resembled Lt Murphy from the Galaxy although he was reluctant to look lest he be turned into a pillar of salt.

Passing a woman with a huge rubber appendage buckled to her waist, Thane led Zeke into a lushly padded room, lit by countless candles that smelled like oranges. Lying upon a thick bed of silken, purple pillows was the nude body of what looked like an elderly woman.

"Oh, Damn. This here is Bessie 'Fuzzy' Lumpkins. She is one of the favorites around here." Constable Thane said shaking his head grimly and tugging a sheet over the woman." The woman had a heart of gold. Literally. An artificial heart with gold inlay installed during her last bypass."

"This wretched wench worked here?! As a jezebel?!?!" Zeke asked in stunned amazement. "She must have been..."

"117 years old. Or at least that was all she would admit to. We reckon about 132." He turned to Garabaldi. "Do we have a suspect in this foul act?"

The slightly balding officer motioned to the corner where the suspect was handcuffed and kneeling between two muscular officers wielding huge blasters on their hips. Zeke's mouth fell open when he rested his eyes upon Leo Streely.

"Am I glad to see you! Listen, I need you to call Darkstar. Commander Darkstar.." Leo babbled. "This is all one great, big, fat, Greek misunderstanding, OK? He'll sort it out. That's D as in 'Damn, what a way to kick the bucket', and then A as in 'ANYONE LISTENING TO ME OVER HERE?!?!?!"

The Constable pressed his thumbprint on the official Seal of Death for Bessie, then turned his attention to Leo. "You are hearby charged with the death of Bessie Lumpkins. How say you?"

"How say I? Listen here, lube for brains. She was rocking and rolling with the Big Hoss here. Right when she's telling me that I'm her daddy, she grabs my chest and starts rippin hunks of hair out! I'm screamin. She's screamin then the next thing I know, she has a death grip on me if you know what I mean. I ain't never seen anything like it!"

Constable Thane's frown set in deeper."You are claiming that she died as a result of having relations with you?" "Can we kinda keep that one on the down low? I don't want word to get out about this. It would kill my street cred with the ladies. Besides, there would be the countless 'dead lay' jokes. That's more than I need, OK?" Leo said. Constable Thane drew himself up to his full height.

"In the Death of Bessie Lumpkins, you have pleaded guilty. In accordance with Lammergeir Law I accept your plea." "Well OK. Let's get these things offa me so I can get a shower or something. And you tell the manager that I expect a refund of every penny!" Leo uttered.

Thane looked at Garabaldi and nodded to Leo.

"Kill him."

"Unfinish Projects and the Demons they bring"

By Lt. JG Dr. Klaus Fienberg

Location: The Fienberg/MacFarland Family Quarters, Deck 7

Time: 1230 hours

With Kay absent for the time being, Klaus had their shared quarters all to himself.

On the Coffee table set the Arm Articulation device, still on it's stand. Klaus had a cup of coffee, and the PADD left to him by Erik. Having just eaten lunch half an hour prior, his addiction to caffeine had returned at a much lower magnitude.

His mind was still clouded by the horrors he'd seen. The pain and fear that had once controlled his heart, making him inefficient, unreliable, erratic, and possibly dangerous. He had it under control....but he needed to be rid of it for good.

But for now, it was just fog, surrounding the current activity of his brain.

-He's done alot for an Engineer lacking any formal medical training.-

He went over the scematics, which ranged from the control system actually just manually reacting to the movement of the muscles themselves, to detecting the electrical impulses, further refinements, then the movement on to the detecting of electrical impulses in the spinal cord itself.

-This is where he is flawed. He seemed to overlock the fact that there are too many signals to deal with with this kind of primitive sensor. But he's on the right track.-

The Plans were crude, but had already been implemented. Apparantly they were rushed...but by what? Whatever it was, it came too quickly.

-Perhaps if he had more time, he would have come to medical with his plans.......I don't know what Dr. Reynolds would have done, but our wonderful loving cheif surgeon would have probably shot down the entire idea. But even that is unsure. Perhaps he may have seen through his own arrogance and acknowledged that a Lowly engineer could have come up with this.-

On a seperate PADD, Klaus was writing down his own notes. Adding references to his own findings and suggestions.

He finally found a finaly schematic. It was very crudely Drawn, as if by hand. An attempt to refine the current implemented Design, but there was something missing. The Electrical Impulse detectors at the ends of the wires were missing, as if the spot were to be filled in with a missing link. With it was a note. No regard for grammer. It was written as hastily as the schematic.

MESSAGE
-------------
Klaus
you must finish my design. my arm will be vital to me when the time comes for me to have it. finish the missing link for me, and dont let anyone outside of medical know about it. i know they trust you appreciate you and regard you highly. these are things i can see. finish it find where i went wrong. well you probably already know being a doctor an all. but i dont know how good you are with prosthetics neural links and that sort of thing. i came to the conclusion that a direct neural link through the spinal cord or even perhaps a shunt directly into the brain may be the one and only key but i lack the medical knowledge to implement such a plan. once you have the product(do not bother testing it I will do so myself) send it in an encoded message to a one admiral sergei romanovsky of the corps of engineers.

one final thing. i know of your troubles with lucy trang and gunther engleman. i am seeking dr engleman. he has something of mine and i must have it. as for lucy i know not where she is but she is not with engleman. in fact i know that engleman has lost her trail. unfortunatly as of last month lucy secretly retired from starfleet and has gone comepletely off the scope. i know you have had talks with captain alberion s savage and i must inform you that he is no longer able to help. he is under too close a watch for us to operate with him. one of us will eventually find engleman and one of us will exact our revenge on the man that should have died long ago. well actually he did die but somebody i dont know who revived them to secretly accomplish something. i dont think even he knows. he just wants to kill you and lucy so it is likely the agents who saved him may have lost control. i dont know. just take care and finish my project.

and delete this message.

Erik
-----------------------

Klaus immediatly deleted the message.

-What in the world is going on! Gunther is a dangerous man, but why would Erik have any problem with him? And I don't understand how Adm. Romanovsky is involved in this. Probably a debt owed to my brother and nothing to do with it. Could it be that Gunther has a bigger hitlist than we know? Who else will he try to kill?-

He set the PADD down and stared at the device.

-Well, my two main tasks are at hand. Live my life, and finish my brother's work. Should be quite easy.-

"Past Lives"

Lieutenant Corran Rex,
Vanguard One

Guest Starring:
Ensign Xiaz Padma,
soon-to-be-transferred-to-the-USS Atlantis-Flight Controller (Kate)

Corran had changed into his PT gear after his flight, deciding that, since he was already sweaty, he might as well go work out.

All the technology in the Federation, all the advances... and they still couldn't make a flightsuit with adequate cooling technology.

There was a certain comfort in that, actually.

Pad was still buzzing from her latest... excursion. It was fun, to say the least. Mindless, ridiculous, and worthless, really, but certainly fun. She was being transferred off the Galaxy in not too long -- she and the Captain had had a bit of a clash (okay, so she hit on him while she was drunk; after a few sunrises, even M'Kantu was sexually appealing... she might have been able to help him remove that stick from up his ass... but alas, now they'd never know). The 'issue' was really just a cover; they'd never gotten along and her behavior was just an excuse. She was off duty, after all. Hadn't she been? She was trying to remember, and giggled as she recalled that evening. It had been fun. "Hi," she purred to an ensign who passed by, eyes glued to her so tightly she wondered if his eyes would fall out and run to attach themselves to her cleavage. Being a woman was definitely fun. And having almost five hundred year experience as a man made it that much more fun. She suddenly had a thought and glanced down -- oh good, there was a shirt there. Phew. She looked up just in time to see a form approaching from the other end of the hallway. It looked vaguely familiar. Definitely Trill. Hum...

Corran's head tilted as he saw the Trill in front of him turn her head, and he frowned. She seemed.. familiar. In fact, she seemed like..

~No. Way. In. Hell.~ came the unified response of about half of his previous hosts, causing Corran to wince slightly in pain.

~Not so loud, folks.~ he mentally replied, and rushed forward to catch up to the other Trill.

"Hey - hey, wait up!" the pilot called out, trying to get her attention.

She turned and folded her arms, cocking her head, a smirk spread across her lips. "Yes?" she asked, cat-like eyes wide and mischievous.

"YOU!" he exclaimed, trying not to laugh uncontrollably. What came out sounded more like a bark of exclamation. "I can't believe they let you out, Pad! How long were you grounded to the pools?"

"A hundred and fifteen years, seven months, two weeks plus one day, nine hours and twenty two minutes," Pad replied, smirking. "Federation standard, of course. And look." She clasped her breasts. "They gave me this great body. Seriously, someone at the commission was smiling at an old man like me. I never want to be a man again, this is too much fun. Look at you, I thought you'd be dead by now. How's the new host holding up? Heard about the last one, sounds like my kind've guy, eh? eh?" Pad grinned, elbowing her long lost... friend (would Rex be a friend? compatriot? it really depended on the lifetime, really).

"That's right" Rex replied, remembering. "This is the first time you've been a woman, isn't it?" Steadfastly, he avoided answering the question of how he was.

"Yes, yes it is, and let me tell you. It was hard to stop touching when I first work up. Thank God the host and I are emotionally and psychologically compatible, if you know what I mean. Frelling commission didn't screw up this time. Huh." She wrinkled her nose. "So. Really. You. Heard stuff about you before the joining. In the pools. You know how the other worms love to talk, and at the time, I didn't think I was ever getting out of there. Gossip was really all I had." She twirled a piece of hair. "Wait! Before you answer. Seriously. Drinks. On the old man. And by that, I mean the Captain, of course. Onward and upward, dear friend, this reunion, in the flesh requires celebrations!"

Rex could only chuckle at his old ... companion's exuberance. "Let's go to ten forward, then. I'm guessing you're the Ensign who spilled drinks on the Captain, last night?"

Rex could only chuckle at his old ... companion's exuberance. "Let's go to ten forward, then. I'm guessing you're the Ensign who spilled drinks on the Captain, last night?"

"Guilty as charged. Just got out of the brig five minutes ago." She looped and arm in his and they tromped through the corridors into ten-forward, making an entrance only Padma could make. She snapped her fingers toward the bartender. "The good stuff! To celebrate old friendships! On the double, now, I haven't lived 643 years to be kept waiting! Step on it, Sparky!" She led Rex to a table and pushed him into a chair before sliding into the other across from him. "So. Mate. Truth? Fiction? Vague exaggeration?" She arched an eyebrow, lowered her voice. "The long incarcerated scourge of the TSC wants to know..."

"Truth." he replied. "I've got Trex's."

"'But you're only...." she frowned, trying to recall.

"Just over five hundred, I know. Believe me - I'm well aware that it doesn't usually occur until the ninth or tenth century. Damned if anyone can figure it out - and I'm the best expert we've got on the topic. "

"Well damn, Rex," she said, sitting back, crossing her long legs. "I was really hopin' that it weren't so. Frell." The bartender sat down the drinks, and she took the glass, knocking it back quickly, handing it back to him. "One more," she said. He didn't protest; must have received the infamous Padma temper at some point over her stationing on the Galaxy. "What's the say about the odds for the old farts like me?" She sighed. "How's the host handling it?"

"I'm doing well." Corran replied, his mannerisms shifting slightly. "Corran and Rex have blended fairly well. The presences of the additional hosts inside my skull instead of the usual integration makes things.. interesting. I've got the memories of my past hosts, but all the rest of them are always right here with me," he said, tapping the side of his head. "And most of 'em are pretty opinionated, as you should remember.... "

Pad shuddered. "Who could forget Jaal? I hated that bastard. Never listened to me. And Mekaela?" She whistled between her teeth. "Hot as the steam baths. But her personality made ice look warm."

Rex snorted as Mekaela mentally huffed in indignation "You never complained between the sheets, old man." Corran wasn't even sure if he or Mekaela even made that reply.

"Ha," Padma said. "Remember how hard I had to work for that? I was even a relatively nice guy at the time, attractive too, if I do say so myself. I almost always did get the good looking ones though. Never had a Vorrin in my mix." She winked. "Drink you drink that the good Padma has provided, Rex," she said, as the bartender sat down her second and she realized he hadn't yet touched his. She picked up her glass and waved away the bartender with a long hand, sipping the greenish liquid carefully.

Smiling, Rex complied, downing the.. extremely strong.. beverage in one shot. With a whistle, he shook his head. "Caves! What is this stuff?"

'Its.... green." Pad replied.

"Certainly is."

"Good though, right? Kick ya right in the ass. So tell me about this host. He's a charming lookin' fellow, bet he's good with the ladies. Or is he another one of those geeky, closeted, stereotypical, I'm higher than the social relationship, new age Trills everyone kept telling me about during my little, ah... incarceration."

"Certainly not!" he replied in indignation. "I've had my days. I'm actually in a relationship now though - with a human, no less!"

Padma choked on her drink, coughing and waving her hand frantically as the burning liquid detoured up her nose. Eye watering she stared at him. "You better not be joking or so help me..." she was wiping her nose with a napkin, the liquid still stinging. "Caves." She coughed again. "A human? Ugh. That's almost as bad as the Klingon you bagged three or four life times ago. Is she good looking, at least?"

"You have to ask?"

"Never know with you," she replied. "What do you think of this body? I have to know. Was some sort of actress before I went stir-crazy; a pretty good one too, though better before the joining. Still getting used to how everything works in here."

He laughed again, still trying to shake off the drink. He was only very lightly sipping the second one. '"It's...... serviceable." he said with a grin.

"Serviceable? What does that mean, serviceable?" Feminine contempt was clearly obvious.

"Still touchy, I see."

"Not touchy," Pad replied. "Not touchy at all." She tried not to pout, but the alcohol was beginning to go to her head. "So this human. How...?"

"Pilots, during the War together. We fit real well." Corran said, still nursing the drink. "It's strange, how well. I'm even think of getting married again. I haven't done that in.. two or three lifetimes."

"Married," Pad scoffed. "I can't remember the last time I was married. And frankly. I doubt it's going to happen this time around. Marriage cramps the fun, and the host is as big into that as I am. For the first time in a long time, the dirty old man has a perfect match, and that's important. Right Vorrin? Heh. But married to a human?"

~ Kid, what're you thinking?! How'd you slip that one past me?~ came the stunned voice of Vorrin. Both aspects of Rex - Corran and Vorrin - were only half listening to Pad as they listened to each other.

~ You're not always all that quick, Vorrin - it's someone easy.~ came the reply. "So you and your host were a good match? Well, that's better than the.. was it the last two or the last three? You had a string of bad, bad luck for awhile there."

"Frilling Commission," Pad said. "Gives me three doosies in a row and then punishes me for their indiscretions." She knocked back the rest of her second drink and slammed the glass on the table. "Woo! I'm done." She grinned. "Bad luck. Bad, bad luck, though some say, bad, bad Pad." She shook her head. "It started early, you know, it started early. I was a good, innocent little symbiont, young and naive. My second host goes about involving me in his tyrannical murdering plot and before I know it, I have a drug addict and womanizer, and that just set me up. Followed by the most boring 92 years of my life, and then... then the self destruction. There was... let's see, there was... Yatar who couldn't handle me, and Iolanz, who couldn't handle me, and then the three from... wherever... Ranzakan, who couldn't handle me; Roak, who couldn't handle himself; and Nomar, who, well... that one... that one I couldn't handle. 115 years... seven months... two weeks plus a... and now, I have Xiaz. And I like Xiaz. I really do. And Xiaz... needs to go to her quarters." She grinned and giggled. "Doesn't take the alcohol very well. Kinda nice, really, cheaper that way, you know..."

Starting to look a tad on the bleary side himself, Rex stood - well, wobbled, but then he stood, and helped Xiaz stand. "Come on, you. Let's get you in bed."

She laughed loudly as he wobbled. "Told you it was good stuff. Thank you Sparky!" she exclaimed, waving toward the bartender as they wove themselves out of 10-Forward. "Something about that drink. Right to the head. We Trills." She snickered. "We're so bad at this! It's so funny." She grinned at him. "Glad I ran into you, Rexy, Old Boy, glad I did. You let me know if things... get bad." She giggled. "You'll still outlive me, I'm sure."

"Only because you don't live on the edge, Pad." he replied with a sigh. "You just topple right on over it every chance you get."

"Too... true..." she replied, pointing a finger against his chest as he supported her. She stumbled. "I don't know why I do that. Sheer boredom, I think... Issis me?" She frowned. "I can't remember..."

Corran checked the nameplate, noting the irony that the Ensign's quarters were so close to the ship's bar. "This is you." he said, helping her through the doors.

"Excellent," she said, and hiccupped. She grinned. "Wanna come in then? Help me into bed?"

Taking a good long.. long, long, long... look at his old associate's lithe and nubile new body... Corran actually shuddered. "By all the gods. would I.. if I were not very, very happily in a relationship with a beautiful woman who could.. kill me, with her pinky!"

"Mm... suit yourself then," she said, with an awkward sashe'. "It was... good to see you again." She kissed his cheek. "Don't be a stranger." She turned and maneuvered into her quarters; just as the door closed there was a crash and a barrage of angry curses in Trill.

Corran chuckled , and shook his head. ~Y'know, a nap sounds good right now. And a really, really cold shower.~ he thought.

~You are a stupid, stupid man, kid.~ Vorrin said, oh-so-nicely using Mekaela's fond memories of Pad's old host as an example.

~Shut up, Vorrin.~

"Coffee and Doughnuts"

Starring
Miguel Antonio Sandoval

The citizens of the Gryphon Asteroid sytem may have some pretty quirky ideas about building sidewalks that go straight up walls, but they sure do bake a mean doughnut. Miguel thought happily as he munched on another of the powdery sugared patries common to the Festival Area

"Good stuff 'eh Starfleet?" the woman to his left asked in amusement as he ate, "Told you, these Comet-Dust Patries are not something to be missed."

Reclining at a quaint street-front cafe' near the Asteroid core Miguel and his companion, a Dr. Teeda Chhou from the Lammergeir Science Board, were watching with amusement the exotic revelry about them.

Lammergeir was in the midst of its 100th year Founding Day Celebration, and the typical day-to-day dowdyness of asteroid mining had been cast aside and replaced with a colorful tapestry of party-goers and excited children.

The sounds of laughter, firendship, and music drifted to and fro across the open Asteroid center, the echoes of which blended into an amazing symphony of celebration.

And what a place to celebrate.....

A virtual spiderweb of streets and walkways criss-crossed the interior at impossible angles to one another, and thanks to the miracles of modern Grav-Plates passing citizens were often upsidedown or sideways in relation to each other.

The result of which was a strange intertwinging thread of color and light that spread across nearly every interior surface and street.

~~~Like bugs walking upsidedown in a hive.~~~ Miguel thougt not for the first time. The strange vertigo of looking 'up' and seeing 'down' still quivvered his stomach.

~~~Fortuantely these incrdible pastires solve that~~~ he thought as he reached for another.

"Its kinda a traditional Festival dessert." Chhou was reclining in her own chair enjoying the crowds passing the cafe'. "Sort of anagolous to the Mardi Gras King Cake, or the Klingon Snout-Stew.

Miguel munched thoughtfully. He'd been to Mardi Gras in Rio once, but didnt recal anything called a King Cake. Maybe she meant the New Orleans variation in America. As far as the Klingons went......well....

"This powdered sugar is strange." he mused, licking at bit of powdery frost off his fingers. "It is not from a Terrestrial cane-plant?"

Teeda giggled a bit. "Noticed that did you? Trust a Botanist to detect the difference. Actually the local variety is derived from Polynesian Sugar Cane, but modified to make harvesting more easy." She indicated the fine powdery nature of the confection, " Secondly the processed sugar is more delicate than terrestrial varieties and metabolizes almost the instant it hits the tongue producing a slight 'rush' as it hits the bloodstream."

"Making it slightly intoxicating." Miguel realized with a smile. He took another big bite savoring how the cool powder almost danced on his tongue dissolving almost instantly.

"Well not techinically narcotic, but yeah.....its produces a rush." Teeda nodded

"Yum." Miguel agreed.

The two sat for awhile sipping coffee munching on pastries while they watched the sights. At random intervals little impromptu parades would march past with everything from tiny marching bands, to gaggles of colorfully dressed children.

Their Laughter reminded Miguel of home at times.

"Amazing," he mused, "I would not have thought an Frontier Colony to have so many children present."

"Yes well Lammergeir itself is kinda an exception to the rest of the Gryphon belt." Teeda frowned slightly. "You see we are the capital here. . . . .more or less. . . . . . so society is a bit more structured and refined to the point where people feel comfortable raising kids. Another thing is most of the minig is done on the fringes, and Lammergeir is mostly an administrative center.. . . .paperwork and such."

"And life on the edge?" Miguel asked.

"Well. . . .its 'edgy' if you'll pardon the pun. The individual mines, and fiefdoms of the belt tend to be a lot rougher and tougher than you see here. since we fall outside of Federation juresdiction, we tend to attract alot of undesireable sorts at times. Militia bands. . . Slavers. . . .Black-Marketers.. . . . ." Teeda trailed off sadly and contemplated her coffee. "Its our hope. . . my hope really that with the expansion into the new core-ward settlements, and the establishments of reliable Agricultural Domes we can push past all that. We attract enough settlers so that society becomes more organized and law-abiding."

Miguel nodded and patted the doctor's hand reasuringly. "I understand. I first came to love Ecology as a teenager working as a volunteer in the El Salvadoran Reforestation Project. I too saw the potential for how such growth could reshape society for the better."

"El Salvador huh?" Teeda giggled, "I noticed you were using a Universal Translator. . . . what with your lips not matchig your words. . . and was wondering what language you were really speaking. Spainish huh?"

Miguel nodded, "Si." (Which of course the translator obligingly related as "Yes")

Teeda grinned, and rose from her chair stretching, "Well then what are we waiting for. Lets go change the world. Grab the last pastry, and lets head out to the shuttle bay where I have a pod waiting to take us over to the proposed Terraforming site. I'm anxious to hear your suggestions."

Rising as well, Miguel shouldered his heavy duffle-bag full of Scientific instuments. "Absolutely," he agreed, "Starfleet will do its best to get the project off to a good start."

(Of course Miguel knew nothing of Starfleets policy towards the project.)

With that the two dropped some credits on the Cafe' table, and wormed their way out into the crowd, joining the swirl of color, light. . . and hope.

"A Glimpse of the Past"

Lt. JG Dr. Klaus Fienberg,
Medical officer

Lt. Dr. Janelle Reynolds,
Chief Medical Officer

Location: Main Sickbay 1500 hours

Klaus came into work, his mind still on his brother, and on Engleman. The past few hours he had been working on the arm articulation brace, not making much progress. He moved through, proceeding to his post, walking slowly and surely. A small medkit lay open on a biobed. Klaus turned slightly to wave at a co-worker when he brushed up against the kit causing it to crash on the ground. At that instant, as if a waking dream had immersed him like a sheet, Klaus was wearing the old uniform of a naval Combat Medic, a Boarding operation aboard a cardassian outpost. He was at the rear of a combat group in a small corridor. Down the hall were combined groups of Jem Hadar and Cardassian soldiers, and even though was only armed with his medical equipment, he was a target. Coming to his senses he ducked behind a small cargo crate.

The crash startled Janelle. She came running out of her office, expecting to see one of her medics kneeling beside a mess and cleaing it up but to her surprise, no one was there.

Out of her peripheral view, she saw Klaus and it seemed that he was hiding or something like that. Not knowing what was going on, Janelle approached him. She was on first name basis with him. She stuck her hand out to touched him, "Klaus, Klaus! What is going on? Are you okay?" She called his name again.

Still in his delusion, he startled easily. He wasn't sure who he was looking at. "Are you mad? Get down!" He grabbed Dr. Reynolds by the arm and pulled her down to a crouching position.

"Ouch! Klaus, you're hurting me." His grip was very tight and it was digging into her arm muscle. She resisted at first but he had such a strong grip on her, she went down to his level, "Why are we crouching down here?" It was becoming quite clear that something was wrong with him.

The sheet seemed to burn away in an instant, and things seemed normal again. He was extremely shakey as he released Dr. Reynolds. "Mein Gotte...." He stood and staggered a few feet from Janelle, who was now standing. Everyone else in sickbay was watching.

"I Sincerely apologize....I seemed to have....." He began to wander away, distraught..... "That was a flashback...."

Reynolds walked over to him and took his hand, "Let's go to my office. i tink we need to talk about what happened and i don't think you need an audience." She looked at her staff with the staring eyes, "Okay, shows over, back to work." she walked to her office, hoping he was following.

He followed, continuing the stagger. "I must explain." He leaned with his arms on the table. "After the Dominion War, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was assigned to counseling for 2 years, and moved on. Since I was a doctor, they never logged it down on my records. I never thought about it. Since then I had control over my disorder, but rescent stress seems to have taxed me. I had planned to go to Counseling and reassess my problem. Several times I've had the symptom known as '"Numbing." But before today, I hadn't had a flashback in 3 years."

Janelle didn't know how to respond but she had already figured it out. She hadn't heard the term, numbing. She wanted to know more about it, not because she wanted to know if he was dangerous to anyone but because she cared about him, "What's numbing?" She sat on the edge of the table, very close to him.

"Numbing is when you basically numb yourself to the world around you. Although others may describe it differently, to me it's like you're watching the world from the outside. Like you're there, but you're not. Complete Emotional Detachment."

He rubbed his face with this right hand. "I beleive that I can force myself to control myself in the next instance of a flashback."

She knew it might be a sore subject but she asked anyway, "So, what happened? Want to talk about it?" She motioned him to sit.

"Yes.....I might as well...little hard to think about."

He had a strained look on his face. "There were really no direct traumatic events, but rather the whole of my service during the war. I worked both aboard ship as a doctor, and on combat missions as the resident medic. As a medic I had the choice whether or not to fight. A few times I fired on the enemy. I'm not proud of it. I also often failed ad my duties, unable to save people." He shifted a little. "When you think of the Dominion war in the position of a Doctor, or a civilian, you think about the major battles, Such as Chin'Toka, Deep Space 9, or Cardassia. But what you don't hear about is the numerous other little battles. Specifially boarding operations on Cardassian Outpost stations on the Border. I was involved in several. Lost a couple on 2 of those missions. Both Marines and Naval personell. Yet somehow, I never once was hit. I was shot at many a time, but I never sustained an injury. But I did serve in the boarding parties during the Recapture of DS9. I watched a Best Friend of mine...." He choked slightly. "He died right in front of my eyes. His Name was Gunther Engleman. I grew up with him, as well as two other friends in our group. We all went to the Academy together, and strangest of all, we were all doctors." He walked over the the door and propped himself on the side of the doorway. "He was like a brother to me, and I could not get to him, lest I be caught in a crossfire. When I got to him he was already dead. But then my boarding party started to get pushed back by the security contingent. Gunther's body was never recovered."

Janelle got up and came over to comfort him. She put her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. I didn't know." She knew what it felt like to lose someone close. She lost her sister and that was something that took her a long time to get over...which she hasn't yet.

"Thats not the end of it. I must tell you something you must never repeat. Did you hear of the incident aboard the USS Sturmovik? A Doctor going berzerk and killed the Medical Staff that was on duty?"

"How could I not? It was a big story. I never heard the details though." News seemed to travel faster than the speed of light. Everyone doctor knew about it. They all had to have another psyche evaluation. "I promise, anything you say to me stays in this room." Sh moves over to see him better.

"I was told by Cpt. Savage, the ships Commander, and a former Captain of mine, that the man was Gunther. Gunther is alive somehow, and blames me for leaving him to die. So he tried to kill a Former Lover we both shared and disappeared. But he knows where I am."

She wasn't prepared to hear that. It surprised her. She walked back to the other side of the room, her back to him and holding herself like she had gotten a chill, "I can't imagine what it's like to know that your life can be in danger at anytime." She got quiet.

"I am in no danger. He made a mistake. Everyone in the Federation knows who he is. He is considered wanted, and would likely be detained if he tried to even board the Galaxy. Unfortunately, his other target has gone missing. She was a Counselor named Lucy Trang. She resigned and disappeared, as if she knew what was going to happened. She was last heard of on her homeworld, Betazed."

Janelle once again was not able to speak. This was all so sad. She turned back around and listened, letting him continue to talk. She walked towards him, paying closer attention to him as he talked.

"Yes, It is a great shock. But I can tell you no more. This is all the reason for my Flashbacks, and slightly faltering performance. But I need your help. How experienced are you with neural interfaces?"

"Not as experienced as much I liked to be." She took his hand in hers and looked him in the eyes, "You know, if I can help, I will. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, my Brother, Erik Stiener? Used to run that shop in the Promenade? Well, the nerves in his left arm were destroyed in an accident, not only preventing regeneration of the, but also the use of a prosthetic. He attempted to create a brace like articulation unit to regain use of his arm, since he was trying to be reinstated into Starfleet as a full duty officer. The accident caused him to retire instead of taking a desk job. He did remarkably well for lack of formal medical knowledge. He asked me to devise a way to link the device into the spinal cord to pick up the signals that would originally have been sent to the arm so that the device could interpret the signals and move the arm accordingly."

He Hesitated. "I will bring it in tommorow, hopefully without Dr. Malgin noticing. Especially since my Brother wanted this done off the record."

"Sure, no problem. Anything else?" Her voice expressed concerned as she spoke.

Klaus was still visibly shaken by his episode. "Keep Malgin out of it. It'll give him another reason to yell at me. But for now, I think I should....seek help..." "I think that is a good idea and just remember, I'm here too if you need to talk."

"Of Course, sir.Thank you." He slowly left.

OOC: Backpost. Takes place way, waaay back, right after "Opposites Attract? - Part I". Sorry for this folks.

"Opposites Attract? - Part II"

Lieutenant (jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineer

Lieutenant (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineer

*** Ten-Forward ***

Their entrance had gone quite unnoticed, but for Michael still a few too many faces turned their way. He forced himself to focus on Dhani and try to ignore the rest for now. "Which table do you prefer?" he said to Dhani with a smile. He nodded to the an empty table in a corner near a window. "That one over there,..." His next gesture was towards a more secluded part of Ten-Forward. "or one of those over there?"

Dhani turned to him about to tell him she really didn't care where they sat as long as she got something to eat and soon, but it hit her like a slap in the face. He didn't really want to be seen with her, he was sure that rumours would fly round the ship that they were dating or something, especially after her comments to him earlier over the comm. She glanced round thee room and spied a free table, one that she was sure no one would disturb them at, nor would they come to the wrong conclusions. That was the brooding table by reputation. People only went there to be grumpy, moody and to talk out their woes, if another person pushed them into spewing out their feelings that is. And by rights! Dhani should know she'd been there done it and got the broken hand to prove it, that along with suspicious glances from the bar tenders every time she went in there. Something about throwing tables around tended to get them on edge. "Over there." She pointed towards the brooding table and then began to make her way through the crowd. If she actually was interested in Michael in any other way other than a friend she was sure she would have had the right to be offended, but she wasn't. So then why did she feel so rejected?

She began chewing her bottom lip as she smiled pleasantly to all who were in her way, all she wanted to do was scream at them to move but instead she kept smiling and asked politely for them to move. In her head the sentence carried on for them to move not only their fat arses but their dumb arses and to just get out of her fricken way! Why wasn't everyone telepathic? She wondered as they both finally stood at their table. Her mind began to answer the question, until she silenced it ~ It was a rhetorical question! Dumb ass! ~

With raised eyebrows and a slight smile she gestured towards the table, "This one all right?" she asked Michael. She didn't know if he already knew the reputation of this table, if he did then he would be satisfied, right?

Michael nodded. "Fine with me." The brooding table wasn't new to him. It had been there in the Ten-Forward of the USS Galaxy as long he could remember. They walked over to the table and Michael let Dhani sit first. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but it was one of those tiny details he thought was important and never did deviate from it.

~ And there you go!~ Dhani thought to her self glumly as she sat down. Boy did she feel, was hurt the right word? She wasn't sure, but she knew that she not only wanted to cry but slap him too. And then slap herself for being so silly. Shaking her head slightly she laughed at herself and pushed the feelings aside. Michael was her friend, FRIEND. Nothing more and that's the way she wanted it to stay, hell she didn't think she could stand someone else dying in her arms!

"So, already decided what you're going to have for dinner?" Michael said and gave Dhani an warm smile. Now that they sat at a table he felt more comfortable. At least they weren't so much in the spotlight anymore.

She glanced up, it was her turn to be preoccupied, "Erm... Yeah. I fancy something with a bit of a kick to it." she said returning his smile, "Annanza." she concluded, "Its a traditional Trill dish." She told Michael, "What are you going to have?"

"I have no idea. But it has to be something that won't be too heavy on the stomach though." Michael thought a few moments. "Maybe Gagh?" he said semi-seriously.

Dhani gave him a curious look, "Gagh?" she questioned him. She chuckled slightly at the thought of watching Michael eat Gagh, or trying to!

"So no Gagh then. How about some Trill dish? Come one, help me out here. I have to eat something." Michael laughed.

"Why don't you try some Azna?" she suggested, "It will add years to your life." She said with a smirk.

"Azna?" Michael asked confused. "Is that the same dish as Annanza? I assumed that was kind of spicy since you mentioned you would like 'something with a bit of a kick to it'?"

"Well sort of." Dhani concluded. "Annanza is my own variation of Azna, thinking about it they will probably won't have it here. Azna is like a vegetable stew. It is highly regarded on Trill." She summarized.

"Vegetable stew..." Michael repeated. "And that has a 'kick to it'? I always thought stewed vegetables were easy on the stomach. So what makes it 'kick' ?" This talk about food was the last Michael had expected. Well, at least they were talking instead of just sitting around doing nothing else then avoiding each others eyes and staring at some point in space.

"Well that would be the spices. But I suppose that it wouldn't be the same here." She sagged a little, "What's your favourite food?" she asked.

Michael thought for a minute. "That would be Chinese and Japanese food. Strange, isn't it. I've had my share of 'foreign' food so to speak, but for me no Klingon, Vulcan, or Betazoid cuisine can beat Chinese or Japanese food."

"Well in that case I think you need to broaden your horizon a little." She turned to the approaching Waiter, "Can we have two Azna's and a bottle of white wine, something woody!" she ordered for the both of them. Turning back to Michael she gave him a smile.

"It's no too spicy I hope." Michael leaned a bit over to Dhanishta. "Lest you want to hear me farting when on duty." The line was not like something Michael usually tended to use, but it just sprang to mind and it was out before he knew it.

Dhanishta really didn't know what to say to that. She stifled a laugh, "Well unless Suder puts me back on duty that will be a problem only he will get to bare!"

"You got a point there. Just imagine that." Michael grinned. "You really think it's a good idea to take Azna? Ah, never mind. We'll see how it turns out. I think there are still a few jobs that require crawling through Jefferies tubes, so..."

A few minutes later the waiter returned with the ordered Trill dish for both and the bottle of white wine. Michael filled the two wine-glasses about halfway after he opened the bottle as deftly as he could. Taking both glasses, he offered one to Dhani and raised his slightly as to initiate a toast. Michael looked at the food on the table before them, wondering how it would taste and how his stomach would react on it afterwards. "To...adventure?"

Dhanishta smiled and raised her glass, "Adventure." She agreed with a nod.

As they tucked into their food the conversation waned for a while. Eventually Dhani got up the courage to tell Michael something that she had been meaning to say ever since she came too that day in Sick bay.

"Michael," she started, not sure how this would go or how to say it. "I wanted, needed to thank you for saving my life. I know that you have been worried about me lately. And I want to thank you, but also you needn't be. I'm doing, I'm going to be fine. Okay." Her words were soft and calm. She had been thinking about this for some time and although she had been angry at him she was also thankful.

Her words were soothing and it made Michael feel a bit better about the whole situation. Only, he also feared that he couldn't trust his feelings in this case. With Dhani you never knew. Was she just trying to give him false comfort while she was still struggling with problem that seemed almost too much to handle?

"It's alright. Everyone would've done the same in my place. And about me worrying about you,...I guess it comes with the job. Though being a Duty Shift Officer isn't all that important,...I still think I need to look out for the officers that work in my shift."

"I know," she replied again in gentle tones, she reached her hand across the table and took hold of his hand. Squeezing it slightly she said, "And I thank you. And I'm sorry for how I acted with you. It was inexcusable and I'm sorry."

Michael didn't say anything back right away. He only looked at Dhani and gave her a comforting smile. Her hand radiated warmth and the feeling was a pleasant one. "You had a really rough time. There's no need for excuses. Not after what you've been through."

Now it was Michael's turn to comfort Dhani. He still held her hand and he squeezed it a little, just like she did only moments before. Michael continued holding Dhani's hand until he realized what it must look like to other people if they would see them like this. He started to feel uncomfortable and slowly pulled his arm back.

After this rather awkward moment both Michael and Dhanishta continued with their dinner just like nothing had happened. At least, Michael tried to do that and it seemed to him Dhani was doing the same. But still this wasn't enough for him. He needed to be sure the 'subject' was closed.

"So, how's your cat doing? Last time I heard he..."

[OOC: ...and here the conversation between Michael and Dhanishta fades into the background. The camera pulls away, leaves Ten-Forward and floats into space. You know, like one of those typical endings of a TNG show. ;-) ]

"A Day in the Life of Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter"

By:
(you guessed it) Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter

8-ball woke up.

She took a shower. A long, long shower.

She got into her uniform.

She ordered a large hot fudge sundae from the replicator and ate it for breakfast.

She spilled a great deal of hot fudge down her uniform and said a great deal of bad language at which little old ladies would probably be terribly offended.

She switched into a different uniform that was clean, blamed her teddy bear Eptgac for the whole incident, and threw him across the room.

She left her quarters.

She did her work-science-Galaxy thing.

She got off work and went to the holodeck.

She played pool and wished she had a life that didn't have to be simulated. Or a guy.

She said hi to the ever silent Ella Grey and considered hanging with her drinking buddy, only to decide that she didn't really need to add alcoholism (or a hangover in the morning) to her list of complaints.

She went back to her quarters.

She got into her pajamas, looked in the mirror, and wished that she had human ears, a guy, and possibly bigger breasts.

Eptgac sailed threw the room again, as well as got kicked around in a unique version of a kickball game that only had one player and didn't have any sort of rules or points.

8-ball went to bed.

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