NRPG: Partial JP. I finished off right at the moment where Tekri pulled the pistol on James.

Enjoy!

Warning: Great action sequence followed by a great action sequence!

"The Scariest Minute"

By
Sub-Centurion Atole Tekri
And
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan

Location: Ten-Forward
Song: "This Love" By Maroon 5

Tekri awoke to feel her body hurting everywhere. She tried to stand and managed to accomplish it. How did she get back to her quarters? Lieutenant Commander Corgan had-

No! Tekri began to recall the details of the previous night. What was that alcoholic drink of his? The Romulan could not recall it. She felt total embarrassment about the previous night. She did smile though when she recalled the chief of security saying that he would pleasure her via ways that she had not even considered before. Very interesting.

Her body continued to hurt everywhere. Tekri considered going to the medical bay but then she recalled that she had been looked at by a number of crewmen while rather drunkenly talking to the chief of security. Nearly all of the crew probably knew of their previous night.

She had to do it: the conversation would not make her comfortable but it had to be done.

"Tekri To Corgan." She tapped at her communicator pin.

=/\="Corgan here."=/\= Groaned the voice of what could have been the undead, =/\="Good morning Madam Tekri. I hope you are ok.=/\=

"I am fine. Could we discuss the previous night?" Tekri was totally comfortable with everyone onboard of this vessel apart from two people. Corgan and that strange security officer were the only ones who concerned her. Corgan did not concern her particularly: that strange security officer was probably very dangerous to her mission though. She was using the chief of security but she had begun to feel very upset about it and it was that feeling itself that concerned her.

Tekri's communicator crackled, "Ummm... yes. We need to talk. Neutral ground? Ten Forward for breakfast?"

"Agreed." Tekri reached for her military attire.

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

At the same table as last night, James Corgan enjoyed the same kind of coffee. Nothing much changed in his preferences. He stuck with some things that he did enjoy. His bagel and cream cheese waited, neglected while he looked at the starbase.

~"What a mess."~ He thought to himself, grimacing as he swallowed some coffee, ~"My head feels like its been bludgeoned from the inside. I swear it this time... that is the last time I will ever... ever drink."~

The waiter brought in a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Though James still arranged himself somewhat well, the eyes were a dead giveaway of a nasty hangover.

"Rough night?" The waiter asked with heavy hints of innuendo.

James cut into his bacon, and said, "F**k off. Don't start with me today."

"Ohhh... sorry sir." The waiter bowed out.

The crew acted differently around him today. It was a small ship, and word travelled quickly in the crew of a thousand. James was always gossip worthy, ever since his appearance on the ship. He was a kid at the time, mixed up, psychologically strained by years of war and a traumatic incident during the second Borg invasion. It was nothing that time couldn't smooth over, but his crazy reputation dogged him constantly. Now being the chief of security and newsworthy, he was constantly watched, and everyone knew about his actions in the morning.

Some of the people would look and blush. Others quicken their step to pass by him faster. There were a few who congratulated him for 'dipping his wick', but they were Ensigns who didn't know better.

Appearantly, his adventures with Atole Tekri came out, and though some thought it was about time Corgan had a rebound date after the unfortunate mess with Rose, others looked at him as if he was contagious.

There was also the rumour that he heard in the background as he was consuming his scrambled eggs. One loudmouth warrant officer from engineering commented that the security chief was the 'most eligible bachelor on the ship'. Another female crewmember responded to the comment by saying she would... do many things that would make a starfleet security chief blush. Some hooted and hollered, but a few female crewmembers backed off, repulsed by the idea of hitting on a suspected 'male sl*t'.

~"What a mess I made. I must have made an ass of myself last night."~ James thought it was good measure to take another swallow of his coffee to make sure he was sober, ~"Crap. If only they knew what was really going on."~

Tekri arrived and sat by the chief of security. "What are you having lieutenant commander?" She then smiled at him nervously.

Though her voice reverberated in James' skull like a tuning fork at an opera, he smiled and greeted the Rihannsu officer warmly. "Good morning, Madam Tekri. I'm having typical Terran fare. Terran chicken eggs, scrambled with pepper. Back bacon, from a Terran pig. A bagel with cream cheese. It's a common breakfast on these ships."

"Interesting."

The same waiter came by, avoiding Corgan's wrath by hovering near Tekri. "May I take your order?"

"I have already eaten my breakfast."

The waiter exited, much to his delight, as he saw Tekri and Corgan together.

Corgan was the first to pounce. "I'm sorry about last night." He said, wanting the discussion over with. Her allure was easily spotted, and James liked how she excited him. But she was still a spy and an assassin, still a woman here under false pretenses. There was never any real way of telling if she was truthful or not, if her feelings were real or just an act to take his secrets... or his life.

A quick rejection would solidify his new reputation, and save him alot of trouble.

But wasn't part of the fun trying to find out what she was really feeling?

And wasn't there somebody's life on the line?

He had to keep her roped, though it sickened him to do so.

He said again, "Sorry. I shouldn't have started us with that drink."

"James." Tekri found it easier to use his name rather than his rank. "It was not an oversight of yours. Your chivalrous decision to take me home was a good one. The oversight was mine totally." Her face looked very apologetic.

"Well." James winced. Another lance of pain went through his skull, "Either way... we're paying for it today. My head feels like a beaten drum, and I bet you feel the same. We're also the talk of the town, and word on this ship gets around very fast."

Placing down the fork and knife, James breezed with a smile on his face that spoke of no regrets, "But you know what? I don't care. I had a good time, and it has been a long time since I was able to take a beautiful, charming, sophisticated, and just plain engaging woman out for a date. It was worth it."

Tekri was very surprised. She smiled at him with pleasure. Her Tal Shiar instinct instructed her to not be pleased by a human security officer but she decided to not listen to it.

"Could we go to your quarters then?" She asked of him eagerly.

~"Oh god. Someone put a chastity belt on her before she rapes me..."~

"Not today, honey." Grimaced the security chief, "One thing you'll learn about humans. Sometimes, we do it spontaneously. But when we really care about someone... we try to know them first. I mean... we just meet. I want to know you more before anything else happens."

Saying that comment was like river rafting against the onrush of horomones that surged like tidal waves, but raft he did.

"Besides, we both have hangovers." James shook his head, "And I have to get to my duty shift soon."

"Did you not say that you would pleasure me via ways that nobody has ever considered before?" Tekri asked of the chief of security.

"Yes but in due time. Tekri... I have to know. What do you really want from me?"

Tekri was upset: she wanted to talk to him truthfully but she could not threaten her assignment from her superior officer: this human was the chief of security for this vessel. Her concealed plasma pistol was a nearly constant prompt for her to finish with the task of dealing with the traitor. If Corgan even saw her with the weapon then she would have to deal with the chief of security too.

"What do you mean precisely?" She asked of him cautiously.

Unbeknownst to her, James crossed his leg on his thigh. She couldn't see underneath the table, but ankle holster holding a type one phaser was within easy reach. It was his gut feelings again, prickling his skin, warning of something terrible to come.

"I mean..." He shifted uncomfortably, "Do you actually care about me, or am I just a boy toy to you?"

"No."

"I want to know. I don't mind a physical relationship. Honestly... i'm overdue for one." James seriously bored into her eyes. He swore she was hiding something else, and he could see it even with advanced warning from the intelligence chief. Her eyes could barely focus on him, even if their movements seemed minute to the average person. "But seriously, I only make love to the women I care about, and care about us in return."

"Really?"

"Atole." He flicked off his glasses. One side of his vision blurred, though he didn't squint to compensate, "If I just wanted to have sex with you, I could have done it last night, and walked away afterwards. We humans call it a 'pump and dump' or a 'f**k and chuck'. Considering the... crudeness of the statements, you can tell how much respect such one night stands garner. I don't want to treat you like that."

The final point had to drive it home. He turned dead serious, and delivered his final ultimatum. "If you're not willing to be more serious with me... back down. Walk away. It'll be for the better, because i'm not willing to treat you like a sl*t."

Tekri was utterly surprised. Her Tal Shiar instinct instructed her to kill the chief of security soon: he had been far less easy to use than she had anticipated for.

"Fine. Could we discuss it privately?" She was not sure of whether it was to kill him or to be truthful about her mission onboard of this vessel.

"Ok..." Nodded James, "I know a place..."

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

That place was the seclusive, scenic whale tanks.

Two humpback whales, a male and female, slowly drifted in the cloudy, salt filled water. One let out a melodious hum that echoed throught the transparent aluminum glass.

Both as a research tool and as a navigational aide, the whales were an integral part of the ship. And as an attraction, it was a great place to go on dates.

One of the behemoths swam by, opening one fat, monsterous eye to watch the Terran and the Romulan meet, in a room of plush carpeting and simple, utilitarian, two person park benches made for whale watching.

"Its ok here." James said, "This is a romantic spot. A person I used to know would always come here and watch the whales. It then became a habit of mine. Most underrated attraction on the ship, I say. Rarely visited. I made sure nobody will walk in on us, so feel free to speak your mind."

It was rather fitting, in an ironic sort of way, that James would pick Rebecca Von Ernst' favorite spot to have a meeting with a Romulan temptress. Almost a betrayal to her memory, a reminder that he was stepping further away from her while being led by Tekri's leash. ~"She's gone."~ Reasoned James, ~"Rebecca's well gone. For better or worse, this is what i'm stuck with. Just ride it out... ride it out."~

Though in all reality, James knew the whale tanks were risky. A rather isolated place during this time of the day. A perfect place to be killed without anyone knowing, and being that Tekri was an assassin, she could make it easy.

But in order to foster trust and eventually find out her motives, everything had to be put on the line. His reputation was not coming out unscathed. What did it matter that his life was also put on the table?

"So, what do you want to tell me?" He asked, keeping conciously aware of the phaser strapped to his ankle.

Tekri was not sure of how to deal with the chief of security. She could easily draw her plasma pistol and kill him or she could talk to him truthfully though.

She would obey her superior officers: her weapon was drawn before the chief of security could even respond to it.

~"Sh*t!"~ Corgan cursed his lapse of diligence. Her draw was quick (and James was well practiced in drawing a phaser). His arm frozen halfway to his ankle, Tekri motioned with her plasma pistol for him to stay still. Slowly, he moved his hands up, and folded them behind his head.

It wasn't the first time James stared down the barrel of a weapon. He was a veteran of wars. Borg, Cardassians, Jem'Hadar. He knew how to twist out of the way of a beam. Watch her arm, her finger, then drop or roll to the side for cover. Maybe drop down completely, rip the phaser out of his ankle holster, and stun her.

The plan was never certain, and at that range, it was nearly impossible to miss.

He could also see by the power indicator on her sidearm that she had it set to kill.

"You would be foolish to try and kill me, Madam Tekri." James Corgan argued, with a startled bead of sweat tickling his forehead, "You try it... security and marine re-enforcements will be on your pretty ass. There's no way to escape. You'll be hunted down as a cop killer, the worse kind of criminal in our system. Don't be foolish. Put down the gun."

"Turn around." Was her deadpanned response, though slightly halted by a spasm of conscience. She waved the gun's barrel in a sideways motion that illustrated the point.

James had no choice but to comply. His back was to his supposed enemy.

"On your knees." Tekri commanded. James Corgan sank to his knees. "Keep your hands behind your head, and do not move."

"Kind of hard to move with a pistol aimed at you, isn't it... Madam Tekri?" Quipped the security officer.

Tekri stopped as the whale's whistle echoed in its tank. "Yes. Harder still... to let you live."

Her footsteps approached him slowly, though he could not see her progress staring away.

"Whatever it is you're doing here," James kept the farse to the end, hoping to find out one more piece of her, even if death was over him, "You don't have to do it. I'm telling you... stop this."

Tekri continued, keeping as unemotional as her Vulcan ancestors. "You are an honorable man. However, I have a task to complete, and I cannot complete it with you in the picture. If it is any consolation." James heard the snap of her pistol's safety being disengaged at mere inches away from the back of his head. She faltered, a part of her unemotional, businesslike speech showing her true soul, one that regretted her actions, "Know that I did not want this."

"Good." Grinned the security chief, "Neither did I."

It was his death, so why not gamble for life? James had been trained before, both on the field and in the holodecks. A hostage situation (with himself being the hostage) was no different than this. She wanted hands behind his head? No problem, it was training that told him to comply with that request.

Even though it held a deadly secret.

The arms were in fact behind his head, but that didn't leave the elbows without a means to fight back. Turning his torso halfway, and ducking his head, his left elbow then flung out, slapping the plasma pistol out of her head.

At the same time, he used that momentum to twist all the way down, flattening his body on the floor as his leg spun out, aiming a sweeping kick at her shins. The move worked, catching Tekri off guard, and disarming her. And while she was still instinctively attempting to regain her weapon, a sweep kick stole the ground away from her, introducing her back to some surprisingly hard linoleum floor.

James' first instinct was to go for the phaser on his ankle. But that was soon replaced by a deep pain, as Tekri's boot thumped into James' chest as he was trying to get up.

His breath stolen, he gasped for air while fighting daggerlike needles of pain. Tekri already scrambled up, and vaulted over a park bench, and hiding her entire body doing so. In desperation, James tore the type one phaser out of its ankle holster, then rolled on the ground towards cover.

The only cover available was the same park bench Tekri was behind.

~"Sh*t!"~ Corgan cursed, and took the cover nonetheless. With Tekri on the other side, he was in a dangerous position. It was a perfect place to surprise or be surprised.

His body shot up like a comet, a spin of momentum where his phaser was going to meet with her head and end the stalemate.

Tekri had the same idea. Their timing was exact, and their move was the same. Her pistol was also on an intercept course with his head, and he wasn't keen on it finishing its course. He blocked Tekri's pistol arm from making its full arc, the pistol pointed inches away from anything lethal. His bicep buckled under the momentum of her swing, and held firm, while his fingers locked down on her arm.

Then again, so did hers. His type one was halted by her free arm. Both combatants' arms quaked and rumbled like stressed structural integrity fields. Their eyes meet, green against steely gray, and both held fear and uncertainty, but not alot of give and take.

Tekri's strength was winning out. A decendant of Vulcans, Romulans were still incredibly strong, and even an adult male human could not resist their physical push for long, Tekri's pistol was inching closer, while his was straining further away. The muscles screamed for release, or a clever plan to escape bodily harm.

Their breaths were close enough to feel together, intermingling. The sweat on their brows trickled down faces and into uniforms. The intensity was electric, the fear frighteningly real, as James stared down the barrel of his death.

He had other plans. One involving letting her win the power struggle. His phaser arm yielded and surrendered, and she smacked the sidearm, spinning it out of reach. At the same time, James pushed back on the bench using his feet, reversing the physical force to pull her towards him instead of repulsing her away.

The spy was caught surprised again, as she was pulled to him. His foot planted on her stomach while his back rolled on the bench, tossing the Romulan officer out and over. Her body hit the ground and rolled, as her pistol clacked and skittered away, landing very close to his.

"Jesus..." He cursed under his breath. Not much time left before Tekri could crawl back to her weapon, James dove for his, snatched up the small device, and spin around to deliver a stunning beam to his opponent.

Simultaneously, Tekri leaped for her weapon.

Both were successful.

And both were staring down each other's sidearms.

Face to face, nose to nose, James was on one knee, his phaser in his right hand, pressed under Tekri's jaw, while he felt the cool plastic sensation of Tekri's pistol pressed on side of his forehead. Thier panting breaths mingled together as one hot, cloudy steam, being so close that they felt each other's heat radiating from their heads.

The tense standoff was silent, with the whale's call and the two duelling breaths as the only break in the deathly still room. There was more work in the eyes, now locked, staring into each other, attempting foresight and strategy over each other.

The minute passed, the scariest minute of all, until Corgan made his move.

He moved his mouth closer, towards hers. She came closer herself, until Corgan's lips backed away. Longingly, she tried to move forward, until both lips could make contact, but every time, Corgan's would move slightly back, teasing her hunger, until unexpectedly, they were on her. The wetness of their lips making contact, and the eagerness in which they both came at each other, set off the explosion that both repressed by professionalism and duty.

It was more than a hungry, lusty kiss. It was an avalanche, an urge that couldn't be stopped.

But an attempt to satiate it could very well happen on its own. Uncontrollably, Tekri and Corgan, tongues dancing on their tips, hands dropping instruments of death, let all conflict drop and went for what both really wanted, without any politics or paranoia to block their desire.

Their hands went straight for their hindering clothes.

The whale in the tank's half closed, droopy eyelid opened fully as one massive, beady plate. For the first time, the whales were given something to watch.

**********

"You don't have to do this, you know."

Corgan was zipping back his uniform tunic, wincing as he felt the nail lacerations on his back. The intense rush he felt before when himself and Tekri were in their embrace was gone.

There was some satisfaction, though mostly guilt. Not that he regretted what he did, for it was enjoyable for both sides. But the fact that she was an enemy, and that he was skirting corruption and violating a staggering amount of protocols and common sense through their act alone was enough to weigh heavily on the security chief.

"What you're doing here." Corgan argued as his tunic zipped up, "You don't have to do it."

Her gaze was downwards, a she was sitting on the floor, holstering her sidearm. "I risk too much if I don't."

"Then you know I can't allow you to do whatever it is you're doing. I don't know it yet... but I will stop you." James promised, "But if you decide not to go through with your mission... I will be there for you."

He stood up off the floor, and made for the door. "But if you do not... I will be waiting still, but on the opposite side."

"Corgan!" Tekri spoke up, a dignified sob without the tears, before James could leave the room. It caused the security chief to pause and look back.

There was definately conflict in her face.

"Yes?"

"Remember what you said before? About pleasuring me?"

Pausing, James replied, "I did."

"Then I know that you do not break your promises."

A nod was his only response, as he closed the door behind him.

"Behind the Noise"

by
Lt. Ella Grey

*****

The buzz of downtown San Francisco, circa 2009, continued regardless of Lt. Ella Grey's presence. Cars whizzed and whooshed by, braked with squealing tires, clicked and clonked and honked at other cars; people talked, laughed, yelled, belched, wheezed, and talked louder; machines whirled and flashed and blinked on and off. Heels clicked, dogs barked, bells rang, tree leaves rustled, and amidst all the noise and clatter, Ella Grey, self-appointed mute of the USS Galaxy, opened her mouth to speak.

Of course, nothing came out.

Ella wasn't really surprised, since she had trained herself for a very long time *not* to speak, but she still pursed her lips in irritation at the inability not to make the words come from her mouth. She could think them, mouth them, act them, and sign them but when the time came to work her vocal cords, her vocal cords simple weren't up for the task.

Trained myself too well, Ella thought sourly.

Not that she really wanted to speak at all but that doctor had told her sometime back that if she didn't start speaking soon, she might never speak again.

Ella didn't want to speak *now* but that wasn't to say that she might not want to speak sometime in the future. And if there was one thing that Ella hated, it was having her options taken away from her.

What if she woke up some day far away from now and felt like saying a simple 'hello' to Indigo or 8Ball for the mere pleasure of shocking the hell out of them? What if she wanted to someday say 'thanks' to Curtis or Laura Harper for being her friend? What if she wanted to tell Victor how she really felt about him or just scream words at him for being a complete idiot?

The 'what ifs' were plausible and that was enough for Ella to decide to modify her original vow to herself.

So she sat on a bench outside of a coffee shop in San Francisco, the Holodeck programmed to provide a slightly warmer day then one might actually find in the massive city, and practiced speaking knowing that her voice would, were she able to finally produce a word, be hidden by the noise around her.

It was one thing to speak again; quite another to have someone in passing hear her when she wasn't ready.

She frowned again at the lack of sound coming from her throat.

Maybe she should start slower and just work at producing vowels, Ella thought.

"A Chance to Get Away"

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Helmsman

Erin Friel
Ten-Forward Manager

Erin's Quarters

The pale silver-gray walls of her quarters were beginning to remind Erin of a box. A hot box, the kind in which they used to lock deserters in the French Foreign Legion of old. From her vantage point in the center of the room, she stared from one wall to the next, the up at the ceiling, the to another wall, repeating the cycle in some futile hope that something would change.

"Jeremy," she said out loud in a half-hearted attempt to rouse the sleeping body next to her. "Jeremy, wake up."

Savoie didn't stir one iota.

Rolling her bright green eyes, Erin resigned herself to the fact that getting her boyfriend to change from his present position was going to be about as easy as getting the walls around her to change.

"Get up!" she insisted, this time adding a couple short shoves for emphasis.

"Wha- . . . mmf. . . leafmealone."

"I can't stand one more second in this place!" Her voice was brassy, a complete change from the pleasant cooing and purring it made last night. "Let's go down to Lammergeir."

"Ifwe wait long'nuf it'll cometo us," Jeremy muttered, his face still half buried in his pillow. He figured it wouldn't be long until one of the less experienced members of his department crashed the ship into it.

In one short, quick move, she snatched the pillow out from under his head and pounded it into him repeatedly.

Jeremy's hands were up in a moment. "HEY! Quit it!"

"Not until you promise to get out of bed and take me to Lammergeir!"

"You're a big girl, take yourself to Lammergeir," he harumfed, taking advantage of the lull in her assault to flop his head back onto his now pillowless side of the bed.

The beating resumed.

"OKAY! OKAY! I'll get up!" he finally surrendered.

"AND take me to Lammergeir," Erin added, pausing her pillow attack again.

"Why the hell do you want to go down to that rock anyway?" Savoie immediately threw up his hands again to ward off the attack he was sure would resume.

"Because it beats lying around here staring at the walls." Erin paused and sighed, her tone settling into more of a whine than a command. "Jeremy, I haven't been off this ship in I don't know how long. I can't stand it anymore. Tina said there's a festival going on down there."

A festival? On a barren boulder like Lammergier? Jeremy couldn't imagine it. Besides, anywhere Erin's friend Tina recommended was not high on his list of social priorities. "Not much of a festival without air . . . but then again, Tina's got enough in her head to compensate."

"Not ON the asteroid, IN the asteroid!" Erin replied, punctuating her prepositions with a couple good whacks with the pillow.

"On it, in it, whatever. The place is still just a desolate rock." He really couldn't understand why it held any appeal for her. As far as Savoie was concerned, it was just another place to park the ship.

"There are colors, sounds, people there," Erin exclaimed, envisioning the welcome relief the change in venue would afford her space-weary senses.

"There are colors, sounds, and people here too," Jeremy rebutted.

"There is only ONE color here . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . and it's GRAY,"

Pillow strike.

"the sounds are just the stupid HUM . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . of whatever systems make this ship run,"

Pillow strike.

"and the PEOPLE here . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . are the SAME . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . ONES . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . I've been staring at . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . NON-STOP . . ."

Pillow strike.

". . . for MONTHS!!"

"ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT!" Jeremy yelled, "we'll go! We'll go to the damn festival or whatever it is!"

Odd colors, deafening sounds, and strange people. He couldn't wait for the fun to begin.

"Opening Bids"

Starring:
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf
Chief of Operations

Lieutenant JG Chase Remur
Chief Tactical Computer Specialist [NPC]

Chief Warrant Officer 3rd Class Katrina Olegoski,
Diplomatic Attache [NPC]

Commander Karyn Dallas,
RN Chief Ccounselor/Second Officer
USS Galaxy - A

Guest-Starring:
Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora,
Council President

Under-Ambassador Audrin Dernos,
Assistant to Ambassador sh'Sonora

Colonel Regina Kensington,
Chief of Security,
Federation Embassy

Roland Troyer,
Director, Troyer Compact

Joshua Drayson,
Director, Drayson Institute

****

Welcoming Hall
Gryphon Government Building
Lammergeir

The group materialized in a grand hall. Peeking out of the alcove where the transporter pads resided, you could see a grand elevation of architecture reaching several stories up, its contours supported by graceful crossbeams glittering with refracted light, dim as it may be that far above them. A massive chandelier, a marvel of engineering on a rotating asteroid, was suspended a dozen meters above them. Its lights poured out and to the side bent by more of the prismatic materials. Lights danced across and around them. It was like walking through a cavern of gems in a kaleidoscope.

A split in the seam of the wall 20 yards across from them widened until they noticed it was actually a grand doorway 10 feet tall rumbling out. Solid light streamed out from behind them, an ugly contrast to the beauty of the rainbow light dancing about the great cavern.

"Welcome, welcome, friends!" From out of the garish light, which had now softened to something more suitable for vision, Amabassador Mika sh'Sonora strode into view, followed by three other individuals.

The radiant light was not wasted on the illuminated Andorian. Emerging from the bright light, her smile was light, warm, but very wiry. "Good day to you all. I am Ambassador sh'Sonora. And on behalf of the Gryphon Coalition, we are pleased to have you as our guests." She spoke softly, her eyes closing as her head bowed in unison, then opening up again as her head was shifted back at a more even level.

She carried herself with the elegance and grace of a swan, with each movement patient and noninvasive. Her short cropped, show white, meticulously brushed hair poked out two blue, stalklike antennae, which swayed like pond reeds in a gentle breeze. Her already blue cheeks were coloured a shade blue darker with some sparingly applied blush, while her lips were also painted a darker blue to bring out a cloying 'pout'. Not much was in the way of jewelry, but simple replicated gold and pearl earrings hung from her turquoise lobes.

The robes she wore were one of her trademark Andorian kimono style dress, spun of an citrus orange coloured cloth and etched with silverish stitch patterns, depicting the flighted dance of alien kingfishers. The ensemble was belted and cuffed with cloths of sky blue. Her matching parasol, an orange clothed, bell-like contraption bordered with white lace, waited neatly as she held it in her two lithe, slender, blue nailed hands.

It was hard enough for James Corgan to adjust these new, more opulent settings. But upon seeing the Ambassador, he was impressed. Her former boss was decadent, but he had to admit Ambassador Ordos taught her how to carry herself well in such elegant settings. It was as if she actually belonged here.

How embarrasing it was for the Commander, to be a grunt soldier in the middle of a grand ballroom, feeling like the odd man out.

"Welcome to Lammergeir, system seat of the Gryphon Coalition. This is my Under-Ambassador, Audrin Dernos."

The young, sharply appointed Trill man offered his hand to Captain M'Kantu, who grasped it firmly. Audrin smiled politely as he stepped back behind sh'Sonora. Serving with her was a prestigous assignment, and he wanted to make sure that this particular diplomatic engagement started on the right foot, even with the meddling Starfleeters here. He had to admit, he had wondered why she had chosen to ask Admiral Valerian for their presence.

"This is Roland Troyer, Director of the Troyer Compact." She bowed in deference to the man behind and to her left.

"Welcome to Lammergeir, Captain," the beared, barrel chested man said, "I hope you'll have time to tour the mines later. We've had some *earth shattering* advances this year." He chuckled at his own joke, and then extended his hand to M'Kantu.

Daren shook it firmly. I'll try to make time for that tour, Director Troyer," he promised.

"And this is Justin Drayson, Director of the Drayson Association."

"Captain, my people really appreciate your government's intercession. It was a hard decision to come to, but we are not too proud to survive," the whip thin, salt and pepper haired man said, stepping forward to take M'Kantu's hand.

"There is no shame in asking for help with a problem, Director Drayson," Daren assured him as they shook. "That's what friends are for - to assist you when you require it."

sh'Sonora almost sighed as she introduced the last one. "And this is the ever present Colonel Regina Kensington, SFMC, and the Chief of Security for the Federation Embassy, as well as my bodyguard.

Kensington, a woman in her late thirties, came to attention and saluted.

She had the air of a dangerous person; that finely honed look that was common to many of the marines. Lieutenant JG Remur recalled the dossier that she'd read about Kensington. A former Starfleet Ranger.

Once the home field players had finished their introductions, Daren nodded and stepped up to the plate smoothly. He smiled easily, and nodded to the dignitaries in turn. "As I'm sure you're all aware, I am Captain Daren M'Kantu of the USS Galaxy, and it is both a pleasure and a privilege to have been invited to your system. On behalf of myself and my crew, I thank you for allowing us to share this time of celebration with you."

He turned slightly to the side. "I always prefer to let my crew introduce themselves when protocol allows, and I think that it would be appropriate here." He nodded to Katrina for her to begin.

"It's a pleasure and an honor, Ambassador, Directors, Colonel. I look forward to the arbitrary exchange and will gladly offer my services if needed." Katrina had been promoted to Chief Liaison Officer with Curran's deferral of duty. With the Kelvan away, she heralded the opportunity to relish the challenge of a diplomatic exchange. She hadn't had much opportunity in the past.

"I'm Lieutenant Chase Remur, the Galaxy's Chief Tactical Computer Specialist. My job is to look at this from a technological and tactical perspective, as well as look over your respective fleets," Chase said, nodding to Director Drayson and Director Troyer, "I look forward to working with the officers of the Coalition."

This almost brought out a smirk from Colonel Kensington, who knew better than to think that the Coalition had any real meaning anymore.

Karyn leaned forward slightly, a subtle reminder to herself to resist the temptation to withdraw socially. The very thought of showing her face for another diplomatic mission made her nauseous. At least Kylar wasn't here to glare at her. "I'm Commander Karyn Dallas," she said with a smile as she made eye contact with each of them, "ship's Chief Counselor and Second Officer. This is absolutely beautiful."

"Lieutenant Curtis Geluf, Chief of Operations. It's a pleasure to meet you and I commend you on what you have acomplished here." the Kerelian nodded slightly to show respect. The whole idea of living on an asteroid was fascinating. For miles around he could hear the sounds of festivities.

When the time came for James to make his introduction, he found that it came at the same time his brain decided to take a vacation. He found the words he needed to say, though with some unpracticed effort. "I am... Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security. Pleased to meet you all." He hastily bowed, then backed away two steps.

This effort brought some amusement to Mika. A cracked smile and a suppressed giggle, and a look of familiarity.

It put the Security Chief's mind at ease.

"Excellent! Now that we have introductions in order, let us proceed to the banquet hall for a night of festivity, mingling, and newfound friends!"

"Classify This!"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Team Leader/Director

&
Commander Cassius Henderson
Executive Officer

To put it mildly, I had had enough. Enough of the evasions, enough of the lies, enough of the 'you don't need to know' bullshit. Garth was going to get a piece of my mind when I next get in touch with him. He said the Galaxy crew had orders to be accommodating. Accommodating my foot.

I need something exciting, something to get the blood boiling, something that would make my audience do something other than yawn or be bored to tears. So far? I had a plant happy space cadet, a spider-loving security officer, and an even more evasive intelligence analyst. This was by no means a Pulitzer winning array of interviews. Even I, in my infinite brilliance, could only do so much.

So, I went to the Executive Officer of the Galaxy to see if he could help. And to ask for an interview. But mostly for help.

----------

Cassius Henderson had been sitting in his office, reflecting on his journey from Chief Tactical Officer back to Secret Agent and then straight to Executive Officer. He did that often now, thinking about everything that had happened.

But he always returned to Rima. That was really getting to him. The short, skinny, flippant, passive-aggressive wench. His every instinct was to go run off and save her from the world. Which, of course, she didn't want. She'd probably punch him when he showed up, then start crying.

But he had some bigger issues at the moment, as he was in the middle of a mission, and was now in command of the Galaxy while Captain M'Kantu handled negotiations.

Sitting before him was the reporter. He'd heard a few rumors, known he was on board, but had yet to meet him. Oh well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Emmett Bregman smiled, though it seemed rather strained to any who knew him well - which was no one on the Galaxy, "Thank you for seeing me, Commander."

"Not a problem, Mr... Emmett Bregman, right?" Cass nodded, motioning for the man to have a seat, "Babysitting the ship at a conference isn't actually too time consuming. Delegation is a wonderful thing."

Emmett immediately took the offered seat and tried to shift somewhat to make himself a little more comfortable, "That it is," he agreed amiably, "Before I get into why I came to see you, I was wondering if you had heard of the reason why I am here."

"Yes, I have. My assistant, Miss Sherwood, had it in my update when I came on board," Cassius said. One of the better parts of being XO was that you got a secretary, and she told you what was going on.

"Excellent, that simplifies matters," the documentary-maker extraordinaire leaned forward in his char to meet the Commander's eyes, "Basically what I'm looking to do, Commander, is to make a documentary that makes people want to join an organization such as this one. To become one of the everyday heroes that are on this ship, and by extension Starfleet. However, I have not had much cooperation by your crew. They tend to hide behind words such as 'need to know' and 'classified.' I'm perfectly fine with secrecy, but I cannot produce a documentary composed of 'need to knows' and 'classifieds.'"

"Really?" Cassius said, "Do you mind if I ask who you've spoken with so far? I know the Intelligence Department will probably be rather... tight lipped, but beyond that I would have thought they would have something interesting to say."

"Let's see here, Lt. Ahdjiia D'Tinya, Ens. Miguel Sandoval, and Ens. Cora Dobryin. Sandoval was rather forthcoming but, honestly, how much can I put in a documentary about plants? Besides, the kid's only been out in space for a few months. He doesn't have much by way of 'interesting.' However, both D'Tinya and Dobryin uttered those same words. That is, of course, not counting the number of crew members that have ignored my requests for interviews or immediately denied them." Bregman was actually rather incensed about the last. To be interviewed should be considered a piece of immortality. He was on this boat to do a job. It was damn hard to do it if either Rundell or the interviewee were trying to restrain him. "Well, Dobryin doesn't surprise me too much," Cassius nodded, "Major Bolivar runs a tight department, and comes down on personnel who come close to violating confidential information. Lieutenant' D'Tinya is actually his wife, and... well... he's a hard man, Mr. Bregman. My advice would be to give up on Intel unless they seek you out. That said, I'm disappointed that the crew hasn't been more receptive, and I'll be certain to announce that they're to give you their full cooperation."

'Great,' he thought to himself, 'It's a bloody intell conspiracy. I should've guessed.' "Wonderful," he replied, though he didn't sound like he was referring to Cass' last statement. Which meant he was stuck with uber-plant boy, some minor useful things from the spider-lady, and Miss Tight-Lipped Idealist. These do not a documentary make. "Any assistance that you can give me in...encouraging your people to cooperate with us would be appreciated. I don't bite." 'As long as you don't talk to ex-wife number eight...'

"Absolutely. As I just said, I'll announce over the ship's communications that the crew is to cooperate..." Cassius said, scratching his jaw, "And I'll be sure to make it an order. Captain M'Kantu authorized your work here, so whether the crew likes it or not, they're bound to follow it, within the constraints of regulations. Like our intelligence... community."

His favorite quote 'Starfleet intelligence isn't' floated through his head, but he was wise enough to not say it out loud. "That's one of the things, Commander...your people do tend to hide behind regulations a great deal. Surely there's *something* interesting that happened that isn't classified on the Galaxy...something that I can use to show my audience that, yes, things do happen in Starfleet besides getting pluses for being a good corpse or protecting truth, justice, and the Federation way."

"Well, we've had a number of diplomatic missions of late, both receiving Ambassadors from Upanisha, and making first contact with Quentin..." Henderson suddenly broke off as images of himself on the secondary bridge, streaking at full impulse away from the spatial rift, filled his mind. They continued right up to the moment of the Galaxy's destruction, when Pennington had thrown herself against him. Returning to his own surroundings, Henderson brushed sweat from his brow... "Where was I?"

"A million light years from here," Emmett responded, knowing that look all too well, "Tell you what, Commander. How about I get my camera crew and you can tell me all about the diplomatic matters and maybe, just maybe, a few battle stories? Show a good example to the crew, and all that."

"Certainly," Cassius replied, struggling to clear his mind. Obviously thoughts of Pennington had been too prevalent of late. Where was that woman?

"Or," Emmett said, catching the look in Cass' face, "We could do that at another time. You're rather preoccupied."

"No. I'm fine," Henderson nodded, finally regaining mental discipline, "We can proceed whenever you're ready." The man was good at reading people. They probably had a lot more in common than he had thought.

"Excellent, then," he took a glance at his chrono, "I should be able to find Dale and Shep in short order. Say, in an hour or so I'll come back with them in tow?"

"That's fine by me," Cassius said, standing, "I should check on the bridge in a few minutes, so the timing is right." This would give him time to compose himself. He was a better actor than this...

As the documentary director stood, he looked shrewdly at the other man, "Don't forget to take a breather, Commander, before I get back." He wagged his fingers in a farewell gesture, "I'll see you in an hour."

Cassius nodded, "In an hour, Mr. Bregman." Damn flashbacks.

----

Not *too* bad of a first interview that wasn't. Cassius Henderson seemed rather preoccupied during most of the meeting, but at least I managed to get him to agree to a full out interview. With tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum in tow, of course. Maybe this time I'll get something exciting to put in the documentary...something that's not 'need to know' or 'classified.'

"Can I Get a Lift?"

By Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer (relieved)

Lieutenant Corran Rex,
Vanguard One

Colby Elliot,
Asst. Chief Operations

Lt. JG, Moe Branson
Shuttle Bay Chief

Kylar Curran surreptitiously packed a few goods into a small pack. A grooming kit, sanitary items, a change of clothing. He had removed all the accoutrements of his status on the Galaxy long ago, carefully placing them into his personal safe to keep prying looters out. He held no reservations that there were a great many crew on board this ship who reveled in this moment of despair; his fall from grace.

He in return felt the buoyancy of a great burden lifted from his shoulders, ironically. Relieved of his responsibilities on the Galaxy, he was free to make his own decisions.

What failed to register on him was that this was very un-Kelvanlike. Independent action was not in the vocabulary. Maybe this human form he was trapped in really was taking over. Maybe he had given up fighting this losing war tearing away at him from inside. The disease called humanity had defeated the core of Kelvan thought. There was no cure.

Yet, this did not even register on Curran's conscious thought. He hadn't slept soundly in weeks. In fact, he'd been making every attempt to stay awake with whatever means he could get his hands on. His latest cure had run out, so this to him was meant to be. He'd have the opportunity to re-fill his supplies more than adequately here. Federation credits may not go far here, so he carelessly threw a latinum pressed family heirloom into the pack as well. It was nothing but a family sigil anyways.

Important to a wholly complete person, but to those who had other stronger needs, it was just a piece of trade. A commodity to barter with.

"Curran to Lieutenant Branson." He'd about finished, so he turned down the lights, and locked his office doors. No one would need to go in there anytime soon.

[Branson here, Legate. What can I do for you?] The Shuttle Bay chief was unusually chipper, at which Curran could again care less. He'd grown cold inside to feeling and emotion since he was removed from duty by that pet counselor. Maybe it was a good thing. He'd have to thank her later.

"I am in need of a shuttle for a few days, Lieutenant. Destination Dernos." He wanted to get as far away from the political climate on Lammergeir as he could.

[Sorry, sir, all shuttles are booked out for at least 24 hours. I can pencil you in for the first arrival, barring any emergencies if you like]

Yet another handful of sand thrown in his face. "Is it not possible to recall one, Lieutenant?" His voice, cracked and hoarse couldn't even come close to detailing the anger that arose in him. He wanted off this ship, NOW.

[Not without canceling someone's leave, sir. I don't have that kind of authority] Branson's tone suggested to Curran that he wasn't about to try, either.

He thought about stealing an escape pod, but somehow he felt that wouldn't be prudent.

[You could always try the Vanguards, sir. I hear they've been taking the occasional passenger out. Only a rumor though] The silence of those moments was broken by the Chief, unsure of whether to terminate the transmission or not. Hazarding a guess, one thought Branson was making an effort to be nice. Or scared. Who knows.

"Very well, Lieutenant. Inform me if anything changes."

[Aye, sir] Curran cut the communication.

"Curran to Lt. Corran Rex."

*****

Colby sat on the floor of the shuttle bay looking around. His uniform was replaced by jeans, a redwings jersey and a battered leather jacket. Colby was off duty, had been for a while but he was stuck here. If he couldn't get a ride with the Vanguards he felt like stealing something to get himself off ship.

"Stalansky!" Rex's voice boomed out, startling the flight crew chief who was examining a toolkit.

"Yeah, boss?" the Sergeant asked, looking at the Trill pilot.

"Why is there a man in a hockey jersey on my flight deck, looking like he's waiting for something?"

"Don't know, boss." Stalansky replied, unconcernedly.

"Just checking." Corran replied, and started to walk over to the young Mister Colby. That was when his commbadge beeped with a voice that took him a moment to place (even with the name.)

["Curran to Lieutenant Corran Rex."] came the stern voice of the Kelvan.

Rex tapped his commbadge in puzzlement. The Legate was not someone he had a great deal of personal contact 'Can I .. Help you with something, Legate?"

Colby stood up from the floor to talk to Corran the same time his commlink went off. That figured, Colby stuck his big hands into the pockets of his jacket and leaned against the wall waiting for the officer to finish his conversation, then he could do his best to talk him into giving Elliot a ride.

[I am in need of procuring transportation to Dernos, Lieutenant, and there are no shuttles available. I have been told you may be able to assist]

"Well..." Rex said, grinning even though the other man couldn't see it. "I ... Might be able to arrange something."

Curran audibly sighed. His impatience was getting the best of him. [Whatever it takes, Lieutenant. It is extremely important I disembark on Dernos within the hour. I have appointments to keep!]

"Untwist your panties, Legate. Get on down here, and I'll give you a lift. Rex out." the Trill replied, and then looked at the man standing in front of him. "What's your story, kid?"

Colby could hear the voice on the other end of the communicator and riased his eyebrows hopefully, "You think I could get a ride as well?"

"Well, my fighter only holds two, and I promised the good Legate a ride." he replied, teasing the younger man.

"Shit balls," Colby sighed, shaking his head and looking at the floor. That about figured, he'd get to spend his time in his quarters with a hangover.

"Buut..." he started, and then called out to another pilot across the bay. "Kettch! Get suited up! You're coming to the asteroid with us!"

The small, furry pilot nodded, and went to get his flight gear.

"Lieutenant Kettch there will give you a lift." Rex said, and waited for the reaction.

"The fuck is that thing?" Colby asked in astonishment. It looked like a very furry midget and while Colby wouldn't have normally been that blatant-though he did lack tact in most situations-but he was surprised as hell at the first site. "Is this really an officer or are you fucking around with the dumb operations officer?"

Corran frowned. "That "thing", 'Ensign', is one of the most experienced starfighter pilots you'll ever meet."

Kettch had grabbed his helmet by then, and was looking up at Corran and Colby. "Sticking up for me again, mate?" the small fuzzy Kowe said with what appeared to be a grin. "Don't worry about him, Ensign - ?

Colby laughed and shook his head and looked down at the pilot, "I have the biggest fucking hangover, on top of that I'm an asshole." Elliot smiled, "Sorry. Colby Elliot," he said holding his hand toward the small man.

"Kettch." the Kowe replied, and extended his own small paw towards the much taller human.

He then looked up to Corran, "Colby Elliot."

"Corran Rex." the Lieutenant said, giving Elliot a quick nod, and then looked as their other passenger entered.

Curran arrived at the Vanguard Shuttlebay, his only luggage a small packsack which he clung to tightly with slightly whitened knuckles. Upon seeing the main in the red shirt, he at first mistook him for command or engineering personnel without their jacket on, and would have been disgusted at the blatant disrespect for the uniform until he realized he was either a civilian or officer on shore leave. He hadn't seen the denim until he passed through the Vanguard CO's doorway instead of peering through the window panel.

"Ah, Legate." Corran said. "What asteroid are we headed to? Lammergier?"

"Obviously the shuttlebay has a sanitation problem." He stared at the oversized teddy bear that cocked an eye at him. "I believe your pilot is shedding hairballs into your ears. I specifically stated Dernos in my initial communication with you." His gaze fluttered over to the other being in the room with them.

"I've seen you. Colby Eliot, I believe. Very well. You shall ride with the Lieutenant's pet. I have an aversion to excessive follicles." Truth be known, he was less comfortable flying with a talking teddy bear. It looked like it belonged in a Gorn or Quentite child's bed.

"Which craft is yours, Lieutenant? I have no desire to stand around and socialize. Let us leave." He peered out of the open doorway, taking in the view of the asteroids sailing about outside the bay's forcefield. A half dozen fighters lined up alongside one side of the bay, with flight crew working on each in various states of repair.

"Uh yeah, a'ight" Colby said fishing a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. He was ready to go and he was ready now, this ship was starting to rub him the wrong way.

"Right this way, gentlemen." Rex replied, leading the two towards their craft. Within moments, Vanguard One and Vanguard Ten had launched from Galaxy's flight deck, on course for the Dernos asteroid.

“Arrival and Adjustment”

Lt jg Ven’r Nong
Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

He knelt on the floor in sezen posture, considering the infinite point of light before him and the silence within his own mind. Never having heard the thoughts of another, never having felt anything from another and never even having sympathized with any creature he had ever met, he had known only himself.

The minds of others were a mystery, though with his other senses he could judge moods, reactions hidden from gross-responses and even judge what someone was probably going to do by the way their body reacted. But he still never knew what others felt, he never related, even to the Klingons he’d grown to know better than any other race, he was only familiar with them. He was an outsider, an Orphan, though he was HoH Nong he didn’t really understand the people he ruled over. So he’d left.

He was good at what he did, that is, seek revenge and hunt other people down. He was good at making war; his mind seemed to work that way. But he wasn’t good at relating to others. Oh the Academy had worked with him until he knew what to say, to judge a situation and determine the right responses but he never belonged. He hoped that perhaps in Starfleet, where so many beings of so many races and differing cultures, could find common meaning that he could too. And maybe a little, he had.

As a Klingon he’d known mating, and competition and he’d learned what it took to be a warrior. He’d grown to best warriors larger than himself, several at once even when overcome with the glory of rage. But that had been once and ultimately it had left him empty and bereft, disconnected and lost. He’d tried to die, he had really tried. He’d turned of the life support and as the ship had grown cold, he’d known oblivion. Only to be awakened weeks later, not only having survived but having entered and molt; again.

Each time he’d molted, as he grew, something had changed. When he’d molted the first time, he’d lost his aquatic tail and gills and his legs and arms had become useful. He had molted as toddler and she skin, leaving a wrinkled dermis underneath he’d eaten and grown into- a couple of times. And it happened every year, or so, during his middle-growth until he’d attained the mature form he had now.

It was clear he held reptilian qualities; for all that he was largely endothermic. He’d met with and discussed similarities with Gorn, Cardassians, Bzzt’Khat and a few of the reptilian non-aligned races. He’d never been able to find anyone similar enough, heard nothing of an species like his, even when he’d checked all of the archives and checked with outlying species. Nobody had ever seen anything quite like him.

A soft chime sounded, announcing that the parameters he’d set had been met and he opened his eyes. Not that he normally needed to use them, able to sense heat patterns and even navigate and use consoles through the use of his heat pits. But at the moment he had the life support set for what was apparently his optimal conditions, for his species anyway. A heat haze shimmered in the cabin at a hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit, humidity was nearly non-existent and the gravity plating had a pull of just over one-point-four. While he could tolerate temperatures far colder, wetter and lower gravities and could even enjoy them, he far preferred it very hot, dry and heavy. Vulcan in the summer was rather nice, he had thought, though still a little too light.

He stood easily in the high gravity and bent over the console, checking the course and speed and his ETA with his target. The Galaxy was fast approaching, at warp seven, as the type twelve shuttle made for the huge vessel. He carried cargo, in addition to himself; precious equipment for the medical department and some diagrams and isolinear chips for the Galaxy. All of it was packed away in the rear section and none of it vulnerable to his environmental needs. Making the necessary input commands, he turned and donned his uniform, quieting his ridges and making sure his appearance was perfect.

A few minutes later the shuttle dropped from warp and approached the Galaxy, by now the interior temperature had dropped to the low hundred and the humidity was rising. Touching the console he spoke, the odd double-tonal quality of his voice coming across, sounding like two people speaking at the same time, one slightly deeper toned than the other. “Lieutenant Nong to Galaxy Operation. I am piloting Shuttle Vestapia en route deliver myself and some upgrades. What is my clearance?’

+This is Galaxy Operations, welcome lieutenant Nong. Please approach zero-six-three-mark-four at one-quarter to the main shuttlebay. Prepare to release shuttle controls for automatic+

“Acknowledge Operation, though may I pilot the shuttle into position?”

There was a short pause as the Ops officer no doubt checked to make sure he was rated to do that before he came back +Well- feel free lieutenant. I see you are more than qualified to pilot a shuttle into dock+

“My thanks Galaxy Operation, shuttle Vestapia out,” he declared and closed the channel.

With casual dexterity he brought the shuttle into through the asteroids of the area they were in and oriented on the rear of the huge ship, as requested. Within moments, even at one-quarter impulse, he was on approach. The guiding lanes were lit and the spot he was to place the shuttle was indicating to port. Deftly he dumped velocity just before entering the force field, flipped the shuttle one-eighty and slid it sideways six meters into its new berth. Powering down the systems efficiently and quietly, the placed the ship in standby mode and picked up the PADD he needed to be transferred. His belongings, what he’d brought anyway, had been packed in the back and were tagged to his PADD. Upon command they’d be transported to his quarters and he could begin to unpack. Because of his environmental needs, he’d been assured privacy and didn’t have to have a roommate.

Stepping out onto the shuttle deck, he nodded to the technician heading into the shuttle and approached the security agent at the bulkhead doors. “Crewman,” he nodded in greeting and handed him the PADD.

The petite human woman nodded in reply, scanned the PADD and compared the picture. Since he was one-of-a-kind, he was fairly sure she didn’t have to look too hard. In a moment she had thumbed off on the recognition and authorization. With a mutual nod they parted ways and he resumed his rambling stride and heading for the bridge.

It took a few moments, surprising on such a large vessel, for his to find his way and get onto the deck before he stepped off onto the bridge. To his right he saw the Tactical station and the Romulan that would be his commanding officer. He’d long ago burned out the Klingon bigotries against Romulans though he understood why their species was held in such regard. However, to find one serving in Starfleet, highly placed and serving aboard a ship as dangerous as this, he was obviously worth somebody’s trust. Stepping to the Tactical station, he stood at attention waiting to be recognized,

"Perversions"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan

And
Lieutenant Commander Vladimir Malgin

Location: Sickbay

Sheepishly, Lieutenant Commander Corgan peeped over the sickbay doors.

A glance forward, to the left, and to the right. There were a few nurses, and two doctors milling about.

Perfect!

James Lionel Corgan was still smarting from the war wounds received by Madam Tekri that very morning. It was now the end of his shift, and his back still felt like hellfire every time he flexed his muscles. His shirt felt chafingly hot from the scratches, and almost felt like peeling every time it moved.

It was then he asked himself if perhaps the himself and Madam Tekri were a little too eager...

Was there such a thing?

All James knew was that his back was scratched up, and he had sex with an alien woman, whom didn't exactly disclose her sexual history with him while they were making steaming, tawdry love.

Fortunately for James, doctors had a doctor/patient confidentiality agreement that had to be adhered too as religiously as the hypocratic oath.

How unfortunate for James, he was about to be spotted by the one doctor who was most likely to ignore it for the sake of torturing a nemesis.

And it wasn't Dr. Kira Murphy.

It was much worse.

It was the One. It was the Chosen. It was the only ruler of surgery and sickbay at whole, never mind the Chief Medical Officer. It was the allmighty M.D. It was the terror that flaps in the night... Oops, wrong universe!

In just few words - it was Lieutenant Commander Doctor Vladimir Malgin. Vladimir 'Touch-me-and-you-are-dead' Malgin. Vladimir the Terrible. The doctor, whose presence in sickbay of the vessel, where Corgan was, meant that every visit to the Medical was kinda equal to the horrific nightmare, from which you can't break or crawl away, or plead for mercy...

But for Malgin, each visit or JLC meant an entertainment session. This one was going to be of the same kind...

Heh, Jimmy thought that he could pass into the sickbay unnoticed! How naive of him. However...

"Mister Corgan, if i am not mistaken, huh? What made you visit our humble Medical department?"

Far too late. There was no warning, not even a prickle of hairs on the back of his neck. But when he heard the voice of Malgin, he knew this session was going to be far too difficult.

"Sh*t." Corgan sighed, turning to greet Malgin, "Hello... Malgin."

"Hello, hello, mister. But 'hello' is not an answer to the question, which I asked second ago. You remember? What do you want here?"

"Doc, can we talk in private? Perhaps your office? Where there are less people around?" Corgan's eyes were glancing towards the chief surgeon's office, rather urgently. "Please..." He strained.

Doc's eyes were wide open. "Did I hear 'please' from you? Are you sure that you are you? Maybe you are just some sort of alien lifeforme, mimicried as Corgan? Or you are just kidding?" Vladimir was using every second of this visit to put some more salt on Corgan's wounds. "Okay, pal, let's go and see, what do you want. I hope not to kill me, eh?"

Malgin and Corgan made their way to Chief Surgeon's office, where Vladimir sat in his comfortable chair and pointed at another "Have a sit and let's talk".

"Doc..." Corgan sighed a breath of relief upon coming into his office, "I have a problem, and for once, it's not with you."

With brand sarcastic smile, Surgeon answered "I wonder, when weren't you in problem? Even more I wonder, what kind of problem it is, if you come and ask help from me..."

"Well... you see..." Stuttered the security chief, "I... sort of... you know... when a man meets a woman, sometimes they... I had the best sex of my life, ok? The nastiest, dirtiest, sweatiest, loudest romp I have ever experienced in my life, and worse... it was with the new Romulan attache."

With each word of Corgan's short tale, Vladimir's grin got wider and wider. At the end of the story his smile almost litrally began at one ear and ended on another. "In few words, you just want to say, that you f**ked alien. Am I right?"

"Uh huh..." James nodded, hang-dogged, with a hum of shame.

"You are a real pervert, Corgan, you know? I can understand, that sex is a good natural instinct... But it is meant only for sex with your species. When you... Do it with another, it is already a perversion. I wouldn't say, that your story damaged your reputation in my eyes, after all, it couldn't be any lower at all..." Doctor yawned, "Okay, let's put aside my grumbling... What do you want from me now? Ethics lesson? Romulan veneric diseases list? Make a report to the Counselors, so the can fix your pervert's brain? Or directly to the Captain? Just tell me what."

"Actually, could you put me down for a STD check and a dermal regenerator, please?" Corgan requested politely, though it strained him to do so in front of the Russian medical expert. "She was a bit too... frisky."

"Say things as they are, Corgan. Not 'frisky', but 'sadistical'. Another word, correct meaning... Okey-dokey, let's get to fixing ya... But get prepared, thia will be painful!" Vladimir said in cold tone with almost touchable tones of unhidden sadism. "Wel, maybe it shouldn't be painful, but it will. Count this as a punishment for your... Heh... Deed..."

"By the way, anyone talk to you about being stuck in the 21st century?" James inquired as the dermal regenerator cooled his back and stitched together his marked skin, "In case you haven't noticed, there's plenty of relationships on this vessel involving different sentients. Hell, some are half breeds too. But I guess you would dismiss that as being perverted too, eh?"

"Of course! That is a perversion. That is even against biological laws. I say that there are different species and leave them different and alone." Vladimir yawned, "In 21st century, you say? I'd give whole life, only to live in th 21st century. Without aliens. Without interspecies sex and children. Count me a racist, but I think that such messings with human genome like in halfbreeds is horrific..."

James rolled his eyes to the back of his head. Talking to Malgin was a futile effort, the philosophical equivalent of running into a brick wall. So stubborn was he that Malgin believed his way was right... no matter how wrong it turned out to be.

But it didn't dismiss the fact that James and Tekri were perhaps too hasty in the lust, hence his visit.

"I suppose you never get laid." Corgan muttered, "Women tend to hate bitterness... which was probably why I was invisible to women up until a year or two ago. Now... they're everywhere. Android women, Betazoid women, Engineering women, Andorian women, Romulan women, Tall women, Pixie women.... Malgin, why me? Why couldn't it be you? If I have it so unlucky, I can only imagine what would happen to a sourpuss like you."

One more yawn was delivered to James from russian Doctor. This is like an answer to his question. But complete verbal answer came too... "Shut up, Corgan. I got laid, I had sex, good sex. Not 5-stars, premium-class sex, but GOOD SEX nonetheless. But I had it with a human, not with an alien. And that is enough for me. I don't seek exotics."

"Awwww... that's too bad." James sighed, an expression of pity more than anything, "Because I swear that cute Bajoran nurse was checking you out."

Vladimir sighed deeply. Air hissed through clenched teeth "I am warning ya, Corgan. Don't mess with me, my life or my principles. If you value your health and life. Gotcha?"

"I'm not messing with you. Open your eyes for a change. Ensign Maru's eyes were tractor beamed right on your ass."

"MY ass is not your problem. If her eyes are directed at my ass, she might not think that my eyes would ever turn to her, instead of ass. Also, I will tell you one more time. ONLY ONE. I. DON'T. HAVE. SEX. WITH. ALIENS. Unlike one local security chief..."

Snickering, James finished off, "You're too easy to tease, Dr. Malgin. But seriously, I think she likes you. And I think you need to lighten up before she finds out that ass of yours has a stick in it."

The dermal regenerator pitched an extra shrill squeal, as James felt the flesh on his back scream in protest.

"One more tease at me, and I will shove a tricorder or something more painful into your ass. Then you will not think about mine. Seriously, Corgan, I don't care about some bajoran female liking me." Vladimir cursed in Russian, "Hell, Corgan, every second of being on one ship with you is disgusting."

James muttered inaudibly under his breath, "Everything's disgusting when you're miserable."

That really was inaudible, so Vladimir didn't hear Corgan's remark... Luckily for Corgan. As if this WAS heared, Corgan's back would suffer much worse fate, than with Tekri...

The dermal regenerator made another high pitched sound, while James yelped. "F**k, doctor. That's exactly why I have a problem with you. You're one miserable bastard. For god sakes, would it kill you to show any emotion other than pure, unrelenting hate?"

Before Malgin could say a thing, James interjected, "Don't answer that. I know what you're going to say. Just lighten up, and I promise to fill you with less revulsion every time I visit, ok?"

"Don't worry, pal, I will really lighten up..." Cool pause here, than as evil as Dr. Evil... "When your ass is out of my sickbay. But I will think over your offer. Keep in touch, Corgan. Well, I think we've dealed with yer back..."

With his back now patched up (but smarting from Malgin's 'gentle' touch), they then moved onto the medical tricorder. Malgin removed the scanning wand, and waved it over Corgan's body. There was more time spent hovering around James' genitals than what he would have liked, but it was standard. What worried James more was if Malgin headed for his buttocks (such scans in that area were usually necessary for anal sex STD checks, but nothing more), and the nagging voice in his head that kept whispering 'wait' was not helping.

"What's the good word, doc?" James inquired.

Surgeon's face was gravely... Gravely neutral. His glance switching from tricorder's display to Corgan's body, back, and back again. And all this without a single sound. Suddenly, corners of Vladimir's mouth slowly moved lower and lower, forming very sad view.

"Well doc, what the hell is it?" Corgan urgently pressed on.

"I don't really know, how to tell you this..." Vladimir scratched his chin, "OKay, let's make it by the book... Ahem... I regret to inform you, lieutenant commander, that you are..."

~"Oh dear god!"~ Corgan didn't like the pause in Malgin's sentences. There was something wrong, he could feel it! The Lesepian Sperm Killing Virus, able to rend a man's nutsack sterile in a week? Spelman's Urethral Blockage Syndrome? Andorian Crotch Rot? Mono?!?!?

"Doc, for god sakes... tell me!" Snapped the security chief.

"... That you are..." Doctor paused, as if unable to produce a word from his mouth. "Totally and inreversibly... Without any hope..." Malgin lowered tricorder and cursed in Russian again, sadly looking at Corgan's face "That you are totally healthy. Not even a single decease... Clean like a 1-second old baby. Very regrettable..."

"Alright!" James cheered, slapping Malgin on the shoulder, "You're a rat bastard, but man do I ever love you right now! Thank you!"

"You love me? That's one more perversion of yours. For your thanks - no problem. But just don't say that you love me - this makes me want to vomit."

Corgan's tone turned from celebratory to dead serious, "Look, this has to stay between us. Fact is..." James glanced at the doors to Malgin's office, "Is it sealed?"

"Well," Vladimir smiled, "If you don't find news about it in this evening's Federal News, that you can caount that this issue stays between us. Heh."

"Fact is, i'm serious. Doctor patient confidenciality. Use it, because what's going on between myself and the Romulan attache involves more than just us, and it is very important. So please, not a word."

"Confidentiality, shmuckidentiality... What does this word mean?" Surgeon laughed, "Okay, okay, no problem, Corgan. This will stay between me, you and this tricorder."

"Thank you Doc. I knew I could trust you when things became serious." Begrudgingly, James shook Dr. Malgin's hand, out of deep respect.

Russian doctor's face turned more kind than ever, as he said "I am not that evil after all. When I am asked to do something kindly and seriously, I am not such a bastard as I usually am. Okay... Just admit, that I am a very good doctor and you may assume, that you have paid me for your visit."

"Ok, you're the best doctor on this ship, and I am not lying." Letting go of Malgin's hand, Corgan made a fast trot to the door. Unable to resist, James said, "But you're still a rat bastard."

In the very same tone, Vladimir replied, "And you are still the same kind of stubborn jackass."

"CAIO!"

Corgan was gone, faster than a flash. If it were a cartoon, there would have been a Corgan shaped cloud of dust in his previous location.

Instead, there was just Malgin.

"Bitter Misunderstanding"

Commander Karyn Dallas

Ensign Ammanalyn Lywhyn

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

Karyn Dallas ran her hands through her newly cut auburn strands as she made her way toward Counselor Lywhyn's office. Her red locks, once reaching to the middle of her back, now only extended just past her ears. It was going to take some getting used to.

She swatted at the voice in the back of her mind, which even months later, continued to send adrenaline coursing through her. Like some primitive early warning system, her body still reacted to stimuli, which reminded her of The Incident with the Legate and Krieghoff. A split second was all there was for her to tell herself it was not time to fight or flee.

As they always did, her thoughts became rational a second later. As she moved past closed office doors within her department, she realized neither Victor nor Curran were scheduled to be there today, and merely thinking of them would not cause them to magically appear.

And then she remembered. Curran had been temporarily removed from duty, and she was going to see Am...make sure she was okay. Dallas knew better than anyone the Legate was not going to be pleasant.

Karyn rang the chime outside Am's office and waited.

"Counselor Dallas?" Ammanalyn's soft voice said from behind her. "Sorry -- we stepped out for a moment." The small, girlish woman smiled slightly. "We were getting restless." Tampatiaen was in the shape of a small bird, resting on her shoulder, cuddled against her neck, staring at Karyn with interest.

Despite the softness of the younger woman's voice, Karyn still jumped as if she'd been poked with a hot iron. Placing a hand over her heart and taking a deep breath to calm herself and quell her embarrassment, she turned and smiled wanly. "Don't worry about it, I understand, I just came by to talk to you about the Legate. I wanted to see how things went."

"Oh," Ammanalyn said, "I can't discuss specifics, you know, but I'll tell you as much as I can. Go on in." She motioned the woman in the hoverchair to enter her office before her, and followed carefully, maneuvering around to settle down into her large comfortable chair. It was so large, it seemed to swallow her whole. "It went rather well, really. I was pleased, I wish I'd had more time to spend with him, but the Captain was a bit... pushy about it all."

Karyn was a bit chagrined that the counselor would think to remind her of client confidentiality. "That doesn't surprise me. He probably just wanted you to make a decision one way or the other, and then deal with the aftermath away from him. Tell me, why did you remove him and what do you think might be going on?"

Ammanlyn frowned a moment. "Tell me, why are you so interested?" Ammanalyn questioned. "I don't... don't mean to be forward about it, Karyn," she said hastily, voice wavering as though she was surprised by her own aggressiveness. In truth, she was, and more than a little. "But there must be some reason why I was asked to do the evaluation instead of the chief counselor, I was led to believe there is a past history there, and if it... if it's anything more than professional, I do not think I should tell you much more than the session went well, I made my decision partly on the Captain's recommendation but largely upon my discussion with the legate, and I may not have believed it was the best for him, taking into consideration the nature of the mission, I do think it was the best for everyone else in... involved. So. Counselor. That's that, and not much more than can be read in my formal filing in the matter... of the, ah... temporary removal from duty. What is your interest? Am I to expect you'll be following up on all of my cases?"

Karyn was a bit taken aback by her reply, not expecting it certainly, but appreciating the candor, even if she were jumping the gun. "Am, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but honestly, it's my responsibility to be up to speed on all of the staff's cases in the event that I must make a decision regarding a member of the crew. As senior counselor, the buck stops with me in this department. Now, as for the Legate, yes, he and I have what he would call history. You were asked to evaluate him not because I couldn't be impartial, but because he doesn't like me and he wouldn't talk otherwise. I respect your decision to remove him temporarily, but if there's a decision to be made on his permanent duty status, then you and I must make it with all of the facts."

"And I can understand that," Ammanalyn said. Tampatiaen was bristling, his feathers fluffed, beak agape as though hissing toward the other woman. She allowed him to reflect. "Honestly. I do. But... I really don't feel comfortable discussing specifics with anyone, much less another counselor whom the subject chooses not to associate with." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I make my formal reports in matters that need the report. But most of my patients see me... because of some trauma in their lives and most of the time, that trauma is extremely personal. It takes a lot of trust building to get them to explain it to me and start to examine it, aloud, to someone else. I don't need to tell you that. And if they thought I was going and telling their darkest secrets to someone else? Even if another counselor? If they thought I would run to you and recommend they be indefinitely removed from duty? because of something they said to me? I might as well pack my bags now, because no one will want to sit on my couch."

Ammanalyn's breathy, girlish voice was so soft and gentle, the weight of her words could easily be overlooked. Her forehead was creased and her large doe-like eyes were heavy, as though she was a puppy being beaten by her master. She hated being like this, but she had to stand up for herself. Even if it was meekly.

"I don't understand the buck stopping analogy," she continued, "but... if he chooses not to speak to you? It's your job to interpret that as you will. I will give you my recommendation. And you are just going to have to trust I have made it based on my observation and what he has told me in session. Because all I will give you is my recommendation. Not specifics."

"I understand your dilemma, Ensign, believe me, I do, but I want you to understand mine." Karyn replied evenly. "Sooner or later, the Captain will want a recommendation as to the Legate's mental health and whether or not he will be able to return to active duty. That's a decision I will make with your input, but whatever comes of it, it will be me who must answer for it, not you. I can't make a decision like that without having some idea as to why, and I won't. I know the importance of trust, but I too am obligated to keep things confidential, and I do. Every officer who comes in this office knows we won't break privilege for the hell of it, but if a counselor needs some help, he or she will come to me and ask for it. It's all about quality of care, Am, and as long as no one is blabbing things to anyone for any reason, our clients trust is not misplaced. Now, I'm not asking for a transcript, just an answer to my questions. If you can't do that, then I'm afraid we've nothing more to say to each other. I urge you to consider your options, as I am not trying to threaten, merely inform. I was under the impression you knew I would have to approve of a permanent recommendation?"

"It sounds a bit like a threat to me," Tampatiaen's low, masculine, almost British sounding voice echoed in his person's ear. "It sounds very much like a threat indeed."

"I don't intend to make a permanent recommendation," Ammanalyn said, batting a hand softly toward Tam on her shoulder. She was getting flustered now. "And whenever one asks for advice, it is always under the veil of anonymity for our patients. Or it should be, particularly in an enclosed environment of a starship. If it is not, and names and specifics are mentioned, I am appalled because confidentiality *has* indeed been breached!" It took a nip from Tampatiaen for her to realise her voice had risen. Her features were quivering. "I don't know how you run your department, Counselor Dallas, but I don't like this pressure that I am receiving from you. I do not believe it is reasonable and I do not believe it is professional. I also believe you should recuse yourself from this case entirely. But as you have quite often pointed out, I am not the chief counselor and I am sure that my opinion bares little weight for you. You can feel free to ask me any questions you want. And I will feel free to answer them or not in the best interest of my patient."

Karyn sighed and chuckled softly to herself, not exactly sure where it had all gone wrong. The debateswoman in her wanted to make her position clearer, but she realized it would do no good, nor serve the purpose it was meant to. She'd angered Ammanalyn and that was never her intent. "I simply want to know if the two of you are making progress or if there is something more serious going on that will take more time. I see medical's gotten involved, so you'll need to follow up with them. The Legate's...been under some stress lately." Dallas pushed her own memories of that night away immediately, shaking her head.

"I believe some progress was made. It would have been more had the Captain not been so pressing. But he was and our session was shorter than I had hoped. I am aware he has been under more than a little bit of stress; I have examined his files, previous psychological reports, and discussed the situation with medical. This is not my first assignment, Karyn," Ammanalyn said. "I look like a girl, but I have been doing this for a while now and am more experienced than you seem willing to acknowledge. Of course there is something more serious going on that will take more time. Otherwise, I would not have recommended he be temporarily relieved of duty. Otherwise, he would not be acting as, by all accounts, he has been."

Dallas raised a hand. "My apologies, Counselor, I don't mean to be condescending as I'm sure you don't mean to sound irreverent or sarcastic to me. You are experienced, but you are new to the Galaxy and to me, and therefore, it's going to take me some time to trust you. I'm sorry if you find that offensive, but as you can respect, I'm very protective of this crew, and despite all that's happened, the Legate. I apologize if I made you feel threatened or incompetent, I assure you that was not my intent. But as I'm sure you can appreciate, there are additional responsibilities that come with being a supervisor that can conflict with my moral obligations. When this temporary removal is over and Kylar must be re-evaluated, I will respect and appreciate your input. I will need it if I am to do the right thing."

The right thing, indeed," Tampatiaen said, audibly

"Tam," Ammanalyn chided, shocked that he would let his voice be heard in front of an Incomplete Person. Daemons rarely spoke in front of other Daedryn, much less the Incomplete. "Quiet."

"Even in your apology you are condescending. We are trying to discern if it is jealousy you are suffering from or if you are just a controlling personality infuriated to have had the captain overlook you and request a recommendation from someone other than you," Tampatiaen continued, jumping from Ammanalyn's shoulder and shifted into ermine form as he did so, stretching forward, little eyes narrowed, whiskered nose wagging.

"Tampatiaen," Ammanlyn chided, face paling as he broke more than a few unwritten codes of conduct.

Her Daemon ignored her completely. "You did not make us feel incompetent. Certainly not because that is not what we are and we are aware. We have given our input. We will give it again. And we will expect your respect. You do seem to have an argument with the legate and a past history far more complicated than you are allowing us to see and that makes us even more wary that we were already. From his reactions. And your reactions. We are suspicious of this thing in the middle of which we have found ourselves. Particularly given this conversation."

Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, Karyn turned directly to Ammanalyn. From the looks of her, it was as if she had lost control of a five-year-old child. "I'm willing to bet none of your patients expected they'd be confessing to a third party while in session either, did they? See that Tam learns to stay silent and that this doesn't happen again."

Ammanlyn's face turned from white to a brilliant flush. "There is no third party involved here, *Counselor Dallas*," Ammanalyn said, venom in her voice for one of the few times in her life. It was Tampatiaen's turn to be surprised. "Tampatiaen does not ever speak to others unless he finds it entirely necessary and certainly does not betray confidences. He is as much a part of me as the nose on my face and if you cannot understand than you are more daft self-concerned than I had previously thought!" Tampatiaen's ears flicked at that as he turned to look at his person with large blue eyes and Ammanalyn, realising what she had allowed to escape in her small fit of temper, clasped both hands over her mouth. But she immediately resolved not to make an apology. The apology was not hers to make. Not in the least. And Tampatiaen certainly supported that reasoning; she could feel it through the invisible, unbreakable bond between them.

Karyn inwardly seethed but was determined to do what she had to do. "Alright, as you wish, Ensign. I will deal directly with you. You're relieved, Counselor, until such time that I am satisfied you can keep yourself under control and to show me the proper respect as befitting a Starfleet Officer. And for the record, you're asking me to believe that Tam will only speak when he has deems it appropriate and that he won't break any confidences when you won't give me the same courtesy?" Karyn shook her head. "You're dismissed, Ensign. Return to your quarters and stay there until you're told otherwise."

Ammanalyn stood, eyes wide, little body shaking in fury. Tampatiaen dropped off her lap, shifting into leopard form and stood there, plastered against his person's leg, a soft growl deep in his throat. "You are relieving me?!" Ammanalyn exclaimed. "For doing my job?! I don't know what courtesies you are expecting me to extend to you, but until you are suddenly an EXTENSION OF MYSELF, then no! Of course I will not afford you the same *courtesy* as I do Tampatiaen! And if you think that he is any sort of threat at all, you need to do a little bit of reading about my species! I do not know why he chose to speak to you, but in doing so he broke no one's confidence and told you nothing that you did not already know! He was exposing only our feelings on the subject, a little more bluntly than I chose to, but our feelings just the same and only ours. You cannot dismiss me simply because you do not like me, *Commander*. And I believe I was showing you the amount of respect you have deserved in this meeting. You have treated me poorly since you entered my office and without my giving you any reason to do so! And then you cast ignorant judgments upon my species? Then you dismiss me?! Form all the grievances you like against me, Commander, I assure you, I'll file more than a few of my own."

"Noted, Ensign, you're dismissed." replied Karyn quietly.

The trembling Daedryn stared a moment before scooping up her Daemon-- now the size of the average house cat despite keeping his leopard shape -- and brushed out the door, enraged and humiliated, attempting to keep back tears while Tampatiaen licked softly, comfortingly at her neck.

Dallas looked back longingly at the closed door, tears of frustration forming behind her eyes. "What the hell *was* that?"

"Cracks in the Ice"

Starring: Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf
Chief of Operations

Lieutenant JG Chase Remur
Chief Tactical Computer Specialist [NPC]

Chief Warrant Officer 3rd Class Katrina Olegoski,
Diplomatic Attache [NPC]

Commander Karyn Dallas,
RN Chief Counselor/Second Officer
USS Galaxy - A

Guest-Starring:
Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora,
Council President

Under-Ambassador Audrin Dernos,
Assistant to Ambassador sh'Sonora

Colonel Regina Kensington,
Chief of Security,
Federation Embassy

Roland Troyer,
Director, Troyer Compact

Joshua Drayson,
Director, Drayson Institute

****

Banquet Hall
Outer Corridor
Gryphon Government Building
Lammergeir

The group was led through the corridors of chiseled stone and sculptures, their voices echoing off the resonant cavern terraced walls as they passed underneath great murals. The Ambassador sh'Sonora reveled in detailing the history of the Gryphonites, only slightly interrupted at questionable points by Roland Troyer and Justin Drayson when certain aspects of their histories were seemingly in favor of the other faction.

"They arrived here in the belt 100 years ago today, in fact! Such wondrous timing of the Galaxy to arrive on this eventful day." Mika's whispers were amplified like breeze caught in a wind tunnel to be carried up, over, and around them like rolling tumbleweed caught in a cyclone. Her voice was all over the tunnel with no apparent source. Even watching her speak, it was carried away from her instantaneously. It was eerie.

"All through the Coalition territories they are celebrating their independence from the Federation as pioneers in a new venture! The Terrans amongst you would liken their push to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1897."

"Excuse me." Katrina Olegoski had fallen behind, the art decor had drawn her in. Curran would not have approved of her lack of concentration, so she thought. "Why did you leave the Federation? We could've supplied you with resources to live by."

Daren slowed his pace fractionally; interested to hear what response each of the factions would give to the question. Knowing how someone viewed the past told you a lot about what they wanted from the future.

"It was a business descision originally," the barrel-chested leader of the Troyer Compact replied, "We wanted to do business with different star powers and couldn't do so as freely as members of the Federation."

"But you do have to remember, Roland," Director Drayson stepped in, "Our people wanted their independence. They wanted to be free to govern themselves, and make their own laws that applied to their own situation."

"Much like the American War of Independence?" Lieutenant Remur asked.

"Yes."

"Yet, your business with other species has also garnered you a mosaic of cultures that do not necessarily work well with each other. Your police forces cannot possibly be able to patrol all your territories. Being the location you are in, there are a lot of races that would just as soon thieve you as kill you. How do you keep them at bay?"

"We do have our own private defence force," Troyer said, causing a glare to be directed his way by Drayson, who considered 'Admiral' Vilheimis to be little better than a street thug, "And our allies defend us against foreign invasion."

"Wouldn't the presence of the Galaxy then invite unwanted activity? It may appear that you are favoring the Federation more than the other galactic powers that purchase goods off your Coalition."

"The Federation is not the only contract we have here, Ms. Olegoski." Roland Troyer stopped to hold open an entry door for her as the others passed through. Looking closer at it, you could see the airlock seals in the event of rupture along the asteroid itself.

"Why, the Romulans and Klingons have recently done business with us." Justin Drayson's higher tone came to them from behind. He'd been further back involved in a deep conversation with Counselor Dallas. "They are regular purchasers of dilithium and cobalt minerals."

"We also have a small fleet of fighters and capital ships. Any outbreaks are dealt with accordingly."

"And you pay your mercenaries with moneys better suited for our own standard of living. You pay more to outsiders to bully us into paying more for minerals than your damned contracts." Everyone stopped at the onset of Justin Drayson's unexpected outburst.

"They protect us from the raiders that have becoming more prevalent in the area, Drayson! Without them, we'd be not so independent, if not dead!"

"That's a lie, and you know it, Roland. You've been hoarding credits for years, and now you have the power to stop our terraforming effort! You charge us far more than we charge you for maintenance of your settlements!"

"If you'd given us more police forces, we wouldn't have had to hire out! And some maintenance. Our domes are barely holding together! Many of our own are reduced to wearing EVA's for fear of it cracking out to space. Your so-called equipment breaks down constantly. Many are sick from breathing toxic gases you said you would protect us against! Even our grav-plates don't work half the time."

"Then you shouldn't have been spending all your credits on that vermin Vilheimis and his thug Morriane. They live in luxury up in that ship of theirs, while we suffer!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Audrin Dernos shuffling over to the two men, beet red faced and looking about to explode, reached out with both his hands to touch them on their shoulders. "We have visitors. Let's not leave an impression on them. We'll discuss your situation with the good Captain and his entourage at dinner." Troyer and Drayson continued to stare each other down, but they no longer exchanged heated words. Instead, they broke their gaze and moved off on their own, leaving Dernos and Olegoski standing together.

"It is a tenuous situation, Ms. Olegoski, but much better than it was before we came to assist them." Katrina was confounded.

James whispered discreetly to Mika, "Do they always argue like this?"

Using her parasol to partially block Troyer and Drayson's view, she softly eloquated back, "They have always argued ever since I have arrived, but as of late, the situation has come to a head. If I may suggest, ask them a question that gives them a unified answer. Maybe that will remind them for a moment that they are supposed to be in this together."

"I'll try. I have a question I'm curious about anyways." Corgan promised.

"Didn't they found the Gryphon Coalition together? My files say they arrived on one ship and built their first colony as a group. Why are they so at odds with each other now?"

"They grew apart, as many great partnerships do," Mika replied, "Drayson's followers and their descendants moved toward increased civilization,and a higher BSL, basic standard of living. Troyer's followers and their descendants were more inclined to continue to work the trade they knew mining."

"I must admit, I am curious about one issue in your past." James Corgan, patiently biding to allow Katrina's inquiry to finish, questioned, "When the Gryphon Coalition became independent, how did they deal with the galactic powers contesting your independence?"

This question too, was one Daren wanted to hear the differing opinions on. He deliberately didn't glance at their Andorian host, even though by this point he surmised that she'd realized that the reason he'd brought such a diverse group with him was to observe the answers the differing sides gave to their non-standard questions.

"That came quite naturally," Troyer grinned, "When we signed contracts with each of the local governments, including your Federation, they agreed to protect our independence. If one government attempted to take control here, they were immediately slapped down by several more. It only happened once, and the offending party's remains were never seen again."

Troyer's answer was not quite what the Chief of Security expected. War in the Federation was reprehensible at best, and not so lightly discussed (especially among the Dominion War veterans, whom were not eager to have the same experience again). The thoughts of what could have 'happened' to the alien representatives brought chills down his back, as if the Gryphonites' feet were trodding on his grave.

"Their remains?" asked Karyn evenly. These people did not strike her as the kind to be particularly brutal to their oppressors. It was one thing to do what needed to be done to gain independence, it was another to go out of the way to take pleasure in it. It didn't strike her as something typical of people who desired a peaceful resolution to matters.

"Any alien invasion fleet that attempted to move in on us was quickly destroyed by responce forces from the others," Drayson replied, explanatorily, "An Orion privateer group attempted to seize the Coalition in 2331. The Klingons immediately responded and destroyed the Orion group so thoroughly that no further attempts... or for that matter, contact with the Orions... have been made. They are the one race not welcome here."

Mika leaned to Corgan's ear while Troyer and Drayson moved on, "You Terrans would refer to this place as the 'Wild West'. Whatever means can be used are used. Sometimes it is unsettling, but understandable."

"Must take patience." James replied.

Mika's bright smile and closed eyes showed poise and ease, "Ordos trained me well."

Being experienced first hand in what kind of muck the Ambassador's teacher was capable of raking them through, James had no doubt. Mika was the only Ambassador in the Federation that could handle such an assignment without outright objecting to the Gryphon Coalition's methods.

And hearing about conflict and dirty work didn't make the soft spoken Andorian blink.

"Brave New World"

Starring: Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf
Chief of Operations

Lieutenant JG Chase Remur
Chief Tactical Computer Specialist [NPC]

Chief Warrant Officer 3rd Class Katrina Olegoski,
Diplomatic Attache [NPC]

Commander Karyn Dallas,
RN Chief Counselor/Second Officer
USS Galaxy - A

Guest-Starring:
Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora,
Council President

Under-Ambassador Audrin Dernos,
Assistant to Ambassador sh'Sonora

Colonel Regina Kensington,
Chief of Security,
Federation Embassy

Roland Troyer,
Director, Troyer Compact

Joshua Drayson,
Director, Drayson Institute

*****

Banquet Hall
Gryphon Government Building
Lammergeir

"Ah! Here we are!" It only took approximately 8 minutes to reach the banquet hall, but it felt like hours. The bitter feud that tore at the heart of the Gryphon Coalition showed its first cracks on their way here, and it was far more apparent upon their entry to the hall.

The cavern stretched for over a dozen meters to each side in a perfect circle. The Troyerites off to one side, the Draysons to the other. They were for the most part, not mingling with each other, but amongst themselves only. The head table, with its podium central to the floor, was situated directly in the middle of the room on a raised dais. The circular room was split in half horizontal-wise, with all the patrons in front of the table. There was nothing behind except a large empty space.

The walls were flat and glossy, a remarkable feat of smoothness on the otherwise colourful and craggy rocky interior they passed through. They stretched up for as far as they eye could see in the darkness, for there were no lights above them. Just pitch blackness. All the lighting was set up on davits and lanterns placed at regular 4 meter intervals about the floor, with a large spotlight on the podium.

"Captain, you and Ms. Olegoski are to sit with us at the main table. The rest of your crew have had seating arranged for them at the base." Mika clapped her soft blue hands lightly, where a pair of waiters suddenly appeared to lead the rest of the crew off to their arranged seating with various other high-ranking officials from both sides. It was the only table that had both Troyerites and Draysons seated together.

Captain M'Kantu took up his seat upon the dais, to the right of the podium and an empty seat, presumably Mika's. Beside him sat a Troyer judge, who was introduced as Steven Smythe. Katrina was placed to the left of the podium, beside Audrin Dernos, with a Drayson judge, Greg Perstman to her right.

Mika took her place at the head and gently tapped a small bell into the microphone.

The rift was appearant, even at a banquet. Draysons were on Corgan's left, drabbed in olive green formal suits bordered with a darker green. Troyers were clothed in similar suits, colored gray with a darker gray trim. Both sides appeared semi-militant in their dress. There were some hints of tension, as James saw the glances between the Troyer Compact and Drayson Institute. It was electric enough to create a whiff of ozone. Too tense for a simple gathering.

Curtis took a seat beside James. He hadn't said much of anything so far. Kerelians were listeners more than talkers, especially when surrounded by few places and people. The local politics seemed to be a little unstable and Curtis couldn't quite get a handle on a group of people leaving the Federation by choice. After all, it took a civil war on his own world just to join.

Karyn Dallas resisted the urge to pull herself up to the table beside a fellow crew-member. Such an arrangement would put her more at ease, but would do nothing to advance her knowledge of the current conflict. So for the umpteenth time that day, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that none of these men were going to threaten her life in anyway, that she was safe here and she did not have to prepare herself for a struggle with any of them.

Dallas fidgeted nervously with a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, suddenly feeling very exposed. Once coming to the middle of her back, the auburn locks now came just below her ears. She'd cut it impulsively with a laser scalpel a few months before, after the doctors had corrected her broken nose. With her vision completely corrected, there was no trace of what Victor had done to her. She was a new woman.

Karyn noted she had been placed directly in between a representative from Drayson and a representative from Troyer. She recalled they were Judge Laura Sellman and Judge Grant Hruggin. Dallas smiled to each of them as she pulled up to the table where a chair had already been moved for her convenience. Karyn made eye contact with each of them, trying to ignore the rumbling of her stomach. Quite literally, she was between two opposing sides, on another diplomatic mission.

"I appreciate your attention to detail, your Honors," Karyn said, gesturing to her chairless spot at the table. "As I'm sure you're aware, proper communication can only occur when two people truly understand one another and the experiences that have made them who they are."

"Naturally, Counselor," Judge Sellman replied first, drawing a frustrated grimace from her counterpart. Laura was always beating him on the uptake. "And, for both Grant and myself, welcome to Lammergeir. We hope that your stay will be very productive, especially in that particular area."

"Excuse me." With her parasol handed over to Colonel Kensington (which in turn set it down beside Mika's seat), meek, dimunitive, petite Mika peeped into the microphone. Her rather unspectacular verbal entrance turned a surprising amount of heads. The Troyers and the Draysons forgot their rivalry to listen to the Federation representative.

"Thank you." She spoke, her hands moving as if windswept, eloquating her words, "For years, the United Federation of Planets and the Gryphon Coalition has co-existed peacefully, benefitting each other through our trade agreements. We have watched, with well wishes, the Gryphon Coalition turn from a fledgling colony to a vital trade link and resource sector of the Alpha Quadrant. This was the dream of its founders." Her hand waved towards the Troyers and the Draysons, "Their dream was of a life of their own. Through their pioneering spirit and hard work, the Gryphon Coalition has come to their own, and it is an honour to be given the privilege of serving their councel."

"However, we cannot deny that the Gryphon Coalition has come to a crossroad, where the future of its people will be determined by one decision. We are caught between choices, undecided on which one is most beneficial. And due to this, the Gryphon Coalition has, regrettibly, seen conflict from within. May I be given the honour of introducing our latest guests from Starfleet." She swept an arm over to the Starfleet table, "On behalf of the Gryphon Coalition, I welcome the senior staff of the USS Galaxy, and thank them for coming during this time of decision."

Trying to guage the crowd, and already assuming that her speech chafed on a few of the Gryphonites, she finished, "May we find the solutions... to benefit everyone in the Coalition."

Recognizing his cue, Daren stood and nodded to both sides in turn. "On behalf of the Federation and my crew, I thank all of you for the opportunity to visit your system. You have done remarkable things here; but most especially you have built homes, lives, and futures for your families in a place that most would look and see nothing at all. There is no greater accomplishment that any sentient can make than to build such a legacy, and all of you should be justifiably proud of yourselves for doing so."

He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "Ultimately, that's why my companions and I are here. Not to choose a side, or to assign blame - but to ensure that those homes and lives and families that you and your forebears have worked so hard and sacrificed so much for continue to mover forward into the future you have made for them. That is important goal here, that and nothing more. Nothing else matters but ensuring the future of those that you all work so hard to provide for, those that look up to you for guidance and protection." His voice softened. "Those that you love."

He waited a heartbeat, than another, and then continued. "In the days ahead, when choices and compromises are discussed, I ask that you remember that, remember them, and learn to set aside the problems of the past in order to ensure the future. In that, we will, as friends always should, help you in every way that we can." He smiled, hoping that he was reaching the men and women arrayed about the room.

"For your future is our future, and your children are our children, just as our future is yours and our children yours. We are one, not because of political bonds, or not because of treaties and trade agreements, but because we are all, every one of us, the fathers and mothers of those that will lead us in the years to come." Daren looked around the room slowly, meeting as many eyes as he could. "We must be true to our charge and nurture and protect the world that will be; so that it is a place we would wish our children to live in." For a moment his eyes were sad as he finished, "They are the most important thing that you and I, that all of us, have." He remained standing for a moment to finish looking around the room and then sat, silently.

"Need to Know, and You Don't Need to Know"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Leader/Interviewer

&
Ens. Cora Dobryin
Intelligence Analyst

---

Starfleet intelligence isn't. At least that's what I've always said. Come to think of it, a lot of people have said it so as much as I'd like to take the credit for that, I can't. My next interview is with a honest to goodness spook. Well, she's an intelligence analyst - what a concept, even intelligence needs it's own analysts. I figure, ask her a few questions, get the standard 'classified', 'that's need to know and you don't need to know', and a few 'no comments' thrown in for good measure. Should be fun.

---

Cora still had uneasy feeling about this whole interview thing. Bregman's message managed to catch her off guard. A rare occurrence for the Intelligence analyst. She checked her uniform then let Bregman and his crew know she was ready.

'Here goes nothing...'

Emmett Bregman was too shrewd of a man to not notice his interviewee's uneasiness, so he attempted to abate it with his best smile - known to actually cause some women to melt, at least that's what he liked to think, especially since this one was rather cute. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Ensign."

"I have to say this is not something I was expecting," Cora replied.

"And why would you say that?" Emmett asked curiously, "I've been sending out interview requests to a good number of the staff."

She looked at him, "I thought that one would be obvious given what I do and the fact I'm a junior officer." Cora replied in a friendly manner, at least she hoped it came out that way.

"Can you give us an idea of what exactly you do here on the Galaxy?" he opened with the standard question, continuing to smile disarmingly. 'C'mon, girl, give me something I can really use.'

Cora thought about it briefly then answered, "I'd say my job title says it all. "

'Great,' Emmett thought with a mental groan, 'She's one of *those.*' By one of *those* he was, of course, referring to someone who clams up tighter than a broad's legs before she's been liquored up. "Actually, Ensign, what I'm looking for is a little elaboration. What exactly does an intelligence analyst actually do?"

He was persistent but Cora knew she could say exactly what her job was. Sure she could say 'keep the ship safe, the Federation safe' but it all came down to one thing. "That's need to know Mr Bregman, that doesn't include documentary film crew."

'Scratch this little interview,' he thought with a deep sigh, "Ensign Dobryin, may I call you Cora?" Without waiting for an affirmative or a negative he continued, "Cora, perhaps you're unfamiliar with what exactly I'm here to do. I'm trying to show the public what Starfleet officers do every day, in between being the Federation's heroes. If you choose to not be accommodating, that is your choice. Now, if you won't tell me what an 'intelligence analyst' does, or what you do on this ship, perhaps you can tell me about why you decided to join Starfleet?" He wanted, oh how he wanted, to slip in a 'or is that need to know as well?' But that was too petty, even for him.

Bregman's use of her first name surprise Cora yet she didn't show it. In all sincerity she wasn't trying to be elusive he just kept asking the right questions that would get him those kind of answers. "For this to work we need to come to an understanding. As Starfleet Officer's we don't look at ourselves as heroes. We're here to do a job."

Emmett actually looked like he was proud of her, as if she had discovered the long lost city of Atlantis or something of the sort, "Exactly. That's the entire point, my dear. You see it as a job. They," he gestured towards the camera, "See if as an adventure. Heroic even. If you can see that, you're farther along than I thought."

"Anyone who enters the Academy or enlists thinking this is only an adventure will learn very quickly thats not a reason to take the oath." She paused, "It comes down to something deeper than that. If that hidden desire isn't there than everything you see and hear isn't worth it. Some can handle and others fold long before the shooting begins."

"What does it come down to, then, Cora? What is that inner insight that drives you to enter Starfleet and succeed where others fail?"

"I know that its not safe out here. It doesn't matter what one does none of us are immune to the dangers that exist beyond our own Solar system," Cora answered his question. "This is a challenge I can't ignore. Something that compels me to seek the best that is within me and use that for the good of others."

Bregman barely kept himself from humming a heroic theme for her. Something along the lines of the twentieth century Superman, or something like that. Meet mild mannered Clark Kent. And here is his alter ego Superman! Chocolaty outside, creamy inside... It was enough to make him want to choke. "Be all that you can be?" 'In the Aaaarrrmmmy.' 'What?' he addressed his mental audience, 'So I paid attention to those that came before me in the advertising biz...'

Cora gave Bregman a rather strange look as she saw his expression during that pause. "Did I miss something?"

"No, no," he waved his hand in dismissal, "I was merely saying a mental comment out loud. I sometimes do that."

"I see," Cora replied then continued with her previous train of thought. "Now if you want me to answer why I decided to join Starfleet I can do that. It is one I can actually discuss," Cora replied, "But I'd like to keep any references to my position as an Intel analyst out of this."

Bregman nodded, though inwardly he sighed, this was probably going to be a rather boring interview. Vaguely he wondered if anyone on this ship would give him an answer other than classified or need to know. Maybe he should try talking to the Captain or the Executive Officer about it - offer to use it as a Starfleet promotional film - which it essentially was. How on earth was he supposed to interest people in joining an organization that either a) talked about the wonders of plants or b) spouted 'need to know' or 'classified' at the drop of a hat? Maybe he could record the Galaxy shooting at something. That might be a good thing...or...no, wait. There might be something 'classified' there too. Garth was asking him to pull off a miracle. A bloody miracle. A miracle with a capital 'M.' Once he realized that he was keeping Cora waiting, he shook himself slightly, "Please, go right ahead. Why did you decide to join Starfleet," He gestured for her to continue.

Cora gathered her thoughts before continuing. "My reasons for joining go beyond the idealistic desire to explore. Yes its there or it was. But now it comes down to really wanting to preserve the freedom we enjoy as a Federation. I don't think of myself as anything other than a Galaxy crew member and a Starfleet officer."

"You're an idealist, how wonderful." It seemed like Starfleet tended to have a few of those running around, protecting freedom, and other such nonsense like that. Oh, he believed that they believed that was why they had joined. However, he knew better. Freedom was in the eye of the beholder. They were pretty words, but when everything hit the fan words meant exactly jack. "You believe that you are protecting freedom, justice, the...the...Federation way?" "We're out here day after day protecting that very thing. Making it so that people can sleep at night soundly at night. It comes down to a desire to be part of something larger than myself. A need to stand with those that keep the Federation safe, you and this ship safe," once again Cora found herself pause this time for longer as she felt carefully hidden emotions begin to surface.

"Why do you feel that need, Cora?" Cora looked at him shocked that he considered her words idealistic. "No I'm not an idealist...I'd say more accurately I'm a realist Mr Bregman. Too many things have force me to see the truth. Each day I make the most out of life because I know it could be my last. I've stared death in the face only to cheat it more than anyone should. This last time I really thought it had won."

"And what happened this last time to cause you to say that?"

"I narrowly cheated death by surviving locked in a cargo bay for days aboard a severely damaged ship. By all rights no one should have survived under those conditions," Cora responded simply.

"Extreme situations can cause some rather extraordinary things to happen. Was that while you were an officer on the Galaxy? Or was that an earlier occurrence?"

Cora's gaze never wavered, "This will be my first official mission as a member of Galaxy's crew. The incident I referred to occurred only a few weeks ago and Galaxy happened to be the ship that responded to help."

"Ah, how convenient. Were you on your way to join the Galaxy's crew at the time?"

"Not exactly," Cora replied, "Its a long story but it amounts to a short temporary assignment. An old practice thats still used on occasion within Starfleet."

"Then it seems that you lucked out on all counts," Emmett observed.

Cora nodded, "Yes I'd say thats very true."

"How do you feel about serving on the ship that had rescued you?"

It was the first time she had really thought about that or had been asked the question directly. "I have to say its ironic with the way Starfleet transfers usually go. Though I wouldn't change a thing. Serving aboard Galaxy seems right."

As she met Bregman's gaze Cora finally continued, "Maybe one day I'll be able to pay them back for saving me."

"Then, because you feel indebted to them, you decided to join the Galaxy?"

She shook her head to indicate that wasn't why. "Indebted I wouldn't say that. There's no way I can ever thank this crew for saving my life. For making it possible to continue my career when fate told me otherwise. These men and women are more than a crew, they are family. They put their lives on the line for me and its only natural I'd do the same for them without hesitation. You will find there are bonds that simply cannot be explained in words."

Emmett quoted, "'We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.'"

Cora smiled slightly, "You don't know how true that really is."

"No? Then you should've meet my ex-in-laws," he said, perfectly straight-faced. "How do you feel having been assigned to the Galaxy, especially given it's reputation? Do you feel that you have to live up to some ideal at all?"

"I'm honored to be part of this crew," she responded without adding much more. In Cora's eyes that said it all.

'Thanks for being so forthcoming,' he thought sarcastically. Out loud he replied, "Indeed. I understand that you will not go into what you do here, but perhaps you could give us an instance since you've joined Starfleet where you've been called on to perform above and beyond the call of duty?" 'C'mon, Cora, throw me a bone.'

Cora thought about it and responded, "It depends on your definition of that. There's more times than I can count where I were there to get people out of harm's way or to save their lives. More often than not it occurs when we aren't out there seeking that. One I can recall clearly occurred the transfer before this one. In fact at the time I was enjoying shore leave on Pacifica. Some tourists found themselves in trouble during a day climb near the shoreline. I was the only one around with any sort of survival or repelling skills."

"Then you were able to rescue them because of your training?"

"Training is a lot of it. But that would have meant nothing it I wasn't in the right place at the right time," she answered his question.

"How...fortunate for those that you rescued."

Cora smiled slightly, "One doesn't exactly set out to save lives while on vacation. But your comment is very true."

"Hmmm, and while you've been in service to Starfleet either on a ship or on base has something similar occurred? Another instance where you've been forced to do things that are considered above and beyond the call as it were?"

Cora nodded, "Yes there have been a few instances of that. Its not something I start out a day expecting but there have been more than where it ends and I look at things differently because I have gone above and beyond the call of duty. Each time that gives me reason to pause and reflect."

"And those instances would be...?" he paused to encourage her to reply, "Or is that...um...well 'need to know?'" He suspected that it was, all the interesting stories generally were.

"The one I can relate occurred while I was still a Cadet aboard the Helios. Towards the end of my training cruise the ship suffered damage due to an Ion storm. We spent hours, maybe even as much as a day evacuating trapped crew members from a severely damaged section of the ship so it could be sealed off. To get to that section we needed shuttles and EVA suits."

"Ah, and were you piloting one of the shuttles or in one of the EVA suits?"

"EVA for that rescue, " she replied.

Seeing Dale gesture at his chrono, Emmett nodded, "Well, Cora, I believe that I have taken up enough of your time. Thank you for the interview, and I'll be sure to send you a copy of the finalized documentary as a thanks for agreeing to speak with us today.

Cora nodded as she stood to leave, "I'll be interested to see your finished product."

-----

I'm still of the opinion that Starfleet Intelligence isn't. Hell, I'm certain that half the things people are going to tell me on this ship are going to be some form of 'need to know' and 'classified.' I can probably use some of that interview in my documentary. Maybe tweak it a little to show the idealism of some of the officers...eh, it'll be another long turn in the editing room.

Though, I will take a break to visit the bar. I hear it can be pretty entertaining...provided I get there at the correct time. And that sounds like it'd be right up my alley.

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