"Stuck"

by
Turan Trelar,
Juvenile Quentite "Ambassador"
with a short unauthorized appearance of Commander Henderson

It took Turan some time to find out who was responsible for maintaining the Galaxy's crew roster, until finally a blue skinned crewman he met at the arboretum told him "Ask the XO - Commander Henderson"

Now, with the Galaxy 'anchored' and a delegation beamed down to an asteroid time seemed to be perfect to ask for a job.

"Computer, where is Commander Henderson?" asked the Quentite ambassador boy.

=/\= Commander Henderson is on the bridge. =/\=

At least, the commander didn't leave with the delegation. Turan stepped into the turbo lift.

"bridge", he ordered.

Immediately, the cabin started moving with an enormous speed that made the over-sized teenager feel his weight almost twice.

Suddenly, the elevator was shaken. Turan was thrown against the cabin's rear wall. The elevator stopped. The light flashed and finally went off.

Turan got up. The small room he was in was absolutely dark - dark and silent."Computer? I need help. Turbo lift stuck." Reported Turan. - No response. Turan felt fear take control over his mind. Nervously, he searched for his communicator, hit it.

"Trelar to ..." Turan paused. His memories seemed to be wiped away. There were only two names the 16 year old boy still remembered. Eshe was the first, the camouflaged officer who almost beat hell out of him and ...

Again, Turan hit his communicator "Trelar to Commander Henderson"

=/\= Henderson here. Report =/\=

"I ... I am stuck with the turbo lift. I didn't know who else I could ask for help." reported Turan.

=/\= Don't worry, Mr Trelar =/\= answered the communicator. =/\= we'll get you out of there as soon as possible. =/\=

The Quentite boy slipped down the wall, sat down to the floor his arms wrapped around his knees - almost like in a fetal position. What happened to the Galaxy? Was the giant vessel hit by an asteroid? Or was she once more involved in a battle. At least he wasn't alone ....

"What blew up now?"

Maj Saladin Bolivar
NALDC Liason Chief of Intelligance

=Intelligance offices=

Saladin had no luck tracking down that pesky reporter for an interview, when he wanted that journalist to go away you tripped over them, when you wanted to find them they were more scarce then Ferengi at a charity drive.

He rubbed his chin and checked a report that had come in from the surface of the planet where the away team was, so far it was standard operating prodecures on the surface and now the ship was....

Shaking, a lot.

Odd...

He jumped up to his feet and headed outside of the office and saw that chaos had interrupted.

"Do we have any way to get information from the surface, subspace, anything lke that?"

"No everything's down but LOS wideband radio."

"Then there's nothign we can do... start gathhering information on the surface, try and figure out ways to recover casualties and keep looking, when subspace gets back on line begin interfacing with planetary databases to identify who did this."

"Yes sir."

Saladin checked over the staff then shrugged on his uniform coat, he would check in throughout the evening but in situations like this he also had other sources to use....

He would....

"Mexican Stand Off!"

With Ensign Zeke Wikkins,
Security

and
Constable Silas Thane

with
Chief Garabaldi of the Lammergeir Peace Battalion.

Also including Leo Streely.

Previously: Beaming down to the Lammergeir Colony for a law enforcement ride along, Zeke finds himself caught up in the investigation of a dead prostitute. Leo Streely, never one to be shy about his exploits, has just pled guilty to being ... "involved"...with the woman at the time of her death. Unfortunatly for Leo, Lammergeir Law is not quite as accomidating.

Time: Moments before the events in "Rain of Fire"
Place: Lammergeir Colony, Gryphon Cluster

Thane looked at Chief Garabaldi and nodded to Leo.

"Kill him."

The brush cut Chief lifted his blaster and pointed the muzzle at Streely while Zeke looked on in horror.

Seeing no other viable alternative to the situation, the USS GALAXY's resident Amish Security Officer drew his own phaser and pointed it at the Peace Bitallion's Chief, thereby creating the equivilant of an international incident and doing so just in time to keep the little human from wetting his pants.

"Mister Wikiins! " Constible Thane bellowed, growing more appaulled as the scene unfolded before him.

The mountain of a man in a Federation uniform seemed to have a face etched in stone. "I cannot allow thee to smite down a member of my flock."

"Your flock just confessed to murder!" the Constable spat.

"I didn't murder anybody! We were just flockin! Speaking of which...get me the flock outta here!" Leo screetched drawing the attention of the Chief who's body visiblly tensed. Wikkins slid his finger on the trigger of his phaser, a subtle move that forced everyone to hold thier collective breaths.

Time seemed to stand still. Despite the many half naked women of ill repute currently standing in awe of the situation that was playing out, the only sound that could be heard was the soft beating of a dove's wings as it flew through the hallway.

"What is this? A John Woo Movie?!?!? Sin City Part 4?!?! I didn't kill anybody! Her little heart just gave out! It's not my fault she couldnt handle my manley minstrations!"

"Leo..." Zeke warned, never taking his steely eyes from Garibaldi.

The Chief had a perpetual smirk and a somewhat paunchy body, but Wikkins wasn't fooled in any way into believeing the man was anything less than capable.

"This has gone long enough! Mr. Wikkins, you are hereby judged guilty of harboring a fugitive, and interfearing with the application of The Law. As such, you shall share his burden!" Thane said, drawing his own side arm.

The world exploded in a hail of phaser fire. With one smooth motion, Zeke threw Leo behind the bar while himself diving for cover to avoid the barrage of lethal energy sizzling around him. Slivers of wood and shards of glass rained down upon the duo as the Security Officer returned fire in earnest.

"Well, they did fire first.." Leo reasoned, then tucked his head between his legs, more to make sure the 'boys' were still in one piece than anything else.

Women screamed and ran as pillows errupted in cascading feathers and stuffing from the oversized mattresses and cushions exploded into thick tufts.

Screaming over the whine of the firefight gunfire, Zeke pointed to the double windows leading to the balcony. "GO!"

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FLOCKING MIND?!?!? I'M NOT LEAPING OUTTA NO WINDOW!! WHAT ARE YOU..NUTS?!?!?!"Leo squeeked, dodging yet another stream of phaser fire.

"No. I am Amish." Zeke said, scooping Leo up in a fireman's carry, while laying down a field of supressive fire until they reached the window. Terror filled the little man's face when he realized that they hadn't stopped and were instead smashing through the glass and freefalling towards the large pool below where nude men and women who had come to the club were frolicking.

They landed with a huge slpash sending the swimmers scurrying for cover. Leo came sputtering to the surface first and seeing the two would be assassins perched on the balcony, he swam over for the cover of the steel waterslide. Wikkins followed him and there both men caught thier breath as the shooting began again with errant shots richocheting everywhere.

"Ya know, I think now would be a good time to call for help, you think? I mean, I know it sounds like an absurd notion and all, OK, but it's just a suggestion I kinda came up with while those two guys were trying to kill us." Leo said.

Wikkins bowed his head. "All father in Heaven's herd, thy servant stands lost in a modern day Sodom. Deliver me from the fetid bowel I am inserted in. Flush me from Lucifer's minions. I call upon thee to bring down thy fiery wrath upon yon puckered heathens that they may forever wilt under thy name. Amen."

"Yeah...OK...That was pretty effective in a useless way. What I meant was..." Leo began before a growing rumble forced him to look skyward.

A huge ball of flame came sailing through the sky and crashed directly into the balcony, killing Thane and Garibaldi on impact.

"H..O...L..Y...S...H...I..T!!!" Leo said, mouth agape, then promptly looked at the sky. "No offense there big guy."

He turned to Zeke. "I'll NEVER doubt the power of prayer again!"

Wikkins' face darkened as more fireballs fell from the sky and exploded into the screaming population of Lammergeir. Thick columns of black smoke rose up as the assault continued.

"That is not the work of my God." he uttered as the two men hauled themselves up from the pool. "That is the work of man."

"Here To Do A Job"

(Takes place one hour after 'Rain Of Fire')

Principle Characters:

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Lt (JG) Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar
Dr. Vladimir Malgin
Ensign Cora Dobryin

Secondary Characters:

Ensign Paul Hanley
Ensign So'ka
Others TBA

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 4
Main Shuttlebay

=/\= Krieghoff to So'ka. How long? =/\=

=/\= Five minutes, sir. Hanley and I are waiting on the functioning turbolift to finish moving injured to Sickbay. =/\=

The most awkward part of the attack - aside from having had it happen in the first place - was the turbolift situation. With the transporters down, and just one lift car running at the moment, the others all being locked out by the emergency systems aboard them and the remaining car routed around their now-static positions, getting from one end of the Galaxy to the other was, charitably speaking, difficult.

=/\= Understood. Krieghoff out. =/\=

Victor turned and looked at the almost-assembled group by the two runabouts they were transitioning to the surface in. The first was carrying the security team: himself, D'Tinya, Hanley, So'ka, and the four ratings he'd had Skore select based on past experience with what the Fleet spin doctors had decided to call 'CaeSAR Operations' because it sounded better than 'combat search and rescue' on the news. A stupid idea, but Victor was used to the universe not asking him for advice on how to run things properly. It was probably for the best - he wasn't sure anyone else wanted to live in a universe that he was in charge of, anyway.

D'Tinya was supervising the last of the equipment loadout, PADD in hand, as Victor looked her way. There had been no repeat of their encounter in the early days of the last mission, which was good. She was a good officer, and Victor didn't especially want to kill her. Besides, if it came to that, it meant he'd have to kill Bolivar too, and that was a fight that wasn't going to happen unless he was the one starting it on ground he'd already picked. Better for everyone if there were simply no need.

The medical team, headed by Vladimir Malgin, had the other runabout configured as a mobile operating theatre, and was loading the last of the extra medical supplies Malgin had insisted on. Victor wasn't sure where - he 'd never felt the need to examine the doctor's personnel jacket - but Malgin had done disaster work like this somewhere else before. He'd known exactly what he wanted and had accepted no substitutes for the materials he'd demanded or the medical staff he'd wanted. He'd never be called pleasant. but the, neither would Victor. Perhaps that was why they dealt with each other as well as they did - they both understood that.

Victor checked his own PADD as it beeped at him. An incoming addition to the personnel list for the mission appeared, red-flagged for urgent notice by Bolivar himself: Ensign Cora Dobryin. Victor supposed it was reasonable Intelligence needed someone on the ground for analysis, debated the choice for a moment, and then shrugged and acknowledged the addition without objection. The Ensign hadn't folded up when he'd walked in on her in the shower less than an hour before, so she ought to be fine if they came under fire. It took only ten seconds for Bolivar to add an arrival time that indicated she'd already been on the way when the initial message was sent.

With a check of the time, Victor noted that So'ka and Hanley were halfway to the Shuttlebay by now, and called out, "D'Tinya, Doctor - meeting."

****

Ahdjiia had thought that this would be difficult, the being around Victor again. She could still feel that seductive pull from him, but perhaps because they were both aware of it and had addressed it in a way; she was able to focus properly on her duties.

Still didn't stop the brief mental imagery of his throwing her to the floor to ravish her hungrily when she heard his voice. She made the mental note to take a cold shower at the first available opportunity and responded to his call.

"On my way."

****

"I don't care! I don't care HOW; I don't care through what... But these medical supplies have to be packed there. I KNOW that there is little space; I know that you are already 'out of space'. But do I care? No! They have to be there. I hope you understand me?" The Doctor made a pause, full of meaningful silence, "That's good. You don't want to anger me. I appreciate that. But if everything is not packed by I am back here, I will not appreciate that. And this will surely mean something bad for some of you. Dismissed!"

Vladimir sighed and said something that sounded like "Idiots. Cannot do anything with my yelling...." under his breath, heading to other members of Away Team.

****

Victor nodded to Vladimir and Ahdjiia as they approached, starting to speak as they stopped next to him. "Sensors are still down and the communications relays are all shot - there's no contact with the ground. The Engineering staff aboard say that combadge signals won't make it through this from the colony to the ship without a relay. Hanley and So'ka are bringing a portable booster relay up now. We're going to hook it to Caracal's comm system once we ground, and that should get communications to the ship back up."

****

Cora had no sooner made it to Intel than she received her orders to prepare for away team duty. It appeared there was no one else available that could handle possible combat conditions on the ground and provide the necessary analysis skills. Quickly Dobryin gathered any relevant data and vital equipment she'd need. Once that was complete she made her way to the shuttlebay.

Emergency conditions made it far more slow going than Cora preferred but she made it in time. As she approached the gathered away team members, the Ensign nodded to let them know she was ready.

****

Victor paused as he spotted Ensign Dobryin entering the shuttlebay and start their way. "It won't handle all the traffic, but it will let us talk to Command, and let the Doctor access the medical databases aboard ship from Mhonga so he's not dependant on the smaller ones in the runabout." He nodded to Malgin. "Best I can do for you."

"Naturally!" said Vladimir coldly, with loud 'hmph...' "You wouldn't dare to give me not the best. I know that and I thank you."

As Cora stepped up, Victor pointed to her. "Ensign Dobryin, from Intelligence. She's going down with us." He nodded to Ahdjiia, "Pick someone to handle security for her, D'Tinya - Bolivar will be mad if she gets taken out while getting his data." He hesitated a brief instant, and then added, "Won't do much for the Ensign, either."

Cora gave him brief glance but said nothing. More than certain she didn't need a security detail assigned to her. But this wasn't the time or place to argue such things.

Victor eyed Ahdjiia for a second, aware that her reaction to him hadn't changed, until he was satisfied that her determination to ignore that reaction remained. "All right, division of labor time. The medical team is on disaster relief. The Ensign is trying to figure out what happened and who did it. Security gets the long list." He held up a hand, ticking points off in rapid fire. "Security on the Ensign. Security on the medical team. Security on the comm relay. Locating and evacuating the diplomatic team. Elimination of threat forces." He dropped the hand. "We put two men on the relay, four men on the medical team, and one on the Ensign. That leaves seven - I'll take So'ka and Hanley, they're not going to shoot me instead of the bad guys. That leaves you with the rest D'Tinya. Good for you?"

"It is.", Ahdjiia said with a nod.

He nodded. "We both look for the diplomatic team's survivors, D'Tinya. If any of the groups come under fire, I respond with my team and you and yours evade as soon as possible. Priority is the diplomats, ours and theirs. If you have to choose, pick ours."

"Dare I ask the reasoning for that particular division?" Ahdjiia asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because they're ours, D'Tinya." That seemed sufficient explanation for Victor. "We didn't start this, that's not what we do, but we're going to finish it. You don't let someone slap you around like this and not finish it, or they'll never stop."

She nodded. It was sufficient explanation for her as well.

Victor turned to Vladimir. "Do you need anything else? Everything clear?"

"Nope. There is nothing you can do to me. Just stay in touch, so I will not have to spend valuable time searching for you, okay? I hope you understood."

"Ensign?" Victor turned to the Intelligence officer after a nod to the Doctor. "Do you need anything besides a security detail?"

"I have what I need to get Bolivar's data and I know it is your decision but I don't think a full security detail is necessary. Intel analysts are trained to work in hot zones so I'm more than capable of handling myself in a combat situation," Cora left it at that.

Victor nodded, eyes expressionless. "Maybe so - but today you get backup, Ensign. That's our job: we die do you don't have to." His delivery made it plain that any humor in the comment was totally unintentional.

So'ka and Hanley entered the shuttlebay with the signal booster carried between them with a pair of lift-handles. Victor pointed to the runabout the Security team was taking and the pair changed course for it without breaking stride. "Load up," he said; turning back to the three people he'd been speaking to. "Ensign, you're with Security in Caracal. We're out of here in five."

Cora nodded saying nothing further as she headed for the appropriate runabout. They were all here to do a job.

"More Intel stuff"

Maj Saladin Bolivar

The intelligance offices were bustling, the emergency lighting casting an eerie glow along the room. Most of the terminals were at half power at best, and some were even down totally.

Saladin was pacing like a caged wolf, his eyes darting to the door and the companel. Ahdjiia was out in a shuttle rescuing casualties, with Krieghoff, an officer he didn't trust as far as he could throw him.

He was scared for her especially with their baby on the way. Why couldn't she stay at home or not go on away teams untill their baby was born. He crossed his arms across his chest and glared at intelligance officers who were bustling around.

Glaring at a crewman his eyes bored in as he waited for the report.

"Uhmm. s...sir we're getting limited reports at best..." The 19 year old crewman figited under his boss' steely gaze.

"I did not want to know that crewman." He glared at the unfortunate messanger, "I was asking for information on our rescue operations, and estimated casualty counts." Saladin snapped then stepped back, "When you have that information try again, if not, remove yourself." Then he turned his back on him and walked away.

Poor kid looked like he'd been steamrolled and he staggered back where a senior chief looked at him, "you survived..."

"Is he always this mean?"

"It's just worse, the missus is on one of the rescue ships."

"Someone married him?"

"Yeah there is someone for everyone. Don't worry kid he'll forget all about it, and you didn't back down. He gotta respect that."

Back in his office Saladin glared at the screen then over to the one personal item he allowed on his desk, a wedding picture with Ahdjiia.

Silently he fumed, he was scared but he could never show that, fear was a weakness, a weakness he could never let anyone but close family see......

He had to be strong...

"Her Darkness"

Lt. Ella Grey

****

For a moment, a young girl, who didn't belong there, stood inside the darkened rooms of Engineering.

This was not her darkness. Her darkness was a cellar somewhere on Coppernicus, a small, stone room where the light would not chase away the monsters but precede them. In her darkness she had huddled miserably for a time that seemed like an eternity, until she had finally wished for the light to turn on even as she prayed for it not to.

Her darkness was years in the past but the similarity to her darkness had transported the girl through time to this moment.

She stood there, in this different dark, unaware that this wasn't the cellar where her darkness had been, unaware that the monsters weren't coming for her, only aware of the need to run and hide before they could take her away.

For a moment, it was not Lt. Ella Grey who stood inside the darkened rooms of Engineering but Ella Marie Grey, the girl whose voice had sounded like an angel, or so her mother had always said.

But then that moment passed and Lt. Ella Grey took a few deep breaths and told herself to knock it off, just as the emergency light units were located and turned on in Engineering.

BACKPOST: 2374

‘For the Rest of my Life’

Ensign Colby Elliot,
Assistant Chief Operations Officer

“FUCK YOU!” Colby barked at the top of his lungs. He stood like a stone statue, his stare was unflinching and rigidly oppressive. He was only there a moment longer before he turned around and left the house. The slamming door behind him came like the shot marking the end of the war.

Colby’s heavy boots kicked up small clouds of dust as he crossed the dirt lot beside his house that served as the driveway. On big hand fished hi keys out of the inner pocket of his jacket as he moved for his car. Colby hesitated a moment then shook his head in disgust at the hesitation.

The high whir of the car’s turbine filled the otherwise silent cabin as the vehicle rushed hovering over the highway. Elliot’s hands were whiter at each knuckle as he gripped the steering wheel. The highway lights flashed casting long beams of glaring yellow into the car, the sun had set and night was taking control of the sky.

Colby closed his eyes to the highway and opened them on his home. He was in the basement stuffing his clothes into boxes. Looking up he felt the first pang of regret set in, he would miss this place even if he wouldn’t miss the people inside of it. Strapping the lid down with tape he moved to the next box, tossing his trophies and ribbons inside. As he slowly worked down the items on the ‘Wall of Fame’ as his dad had so named it the namer stepped into the doorframe.

“No what in hell are you doing?” Robert Elliot asked in his tight dark blue jeans and half unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“Packing,” Colby answered concisely.

“What the hell for?” Robert asked, a drunk’s grin crossing his thin lips. He was a big man, looking at him it was easy to see where Colby got his size. His nose was covered in veins as were his cheeks, his eyes and the rest of his face had the same drunk look that his grin had.

Colby turned from his packing to face his father, “You wanna just leave me alone?”

“The fuck for?” Robert asked cocking his head to one side, “I’m the one who taught you how to play football you think you could give me a little credit.”

Colby pulled several straps over his shoulders and picked up one of the boxes. Wordlessly he moved past his father and started up the stairs. He was half way to the car when he heard the yelling.

“You think yer so fucking special don’t you!” Colby’s dad screamed. “You little fuck!”

Colby closed his eyes and sighed as he threw the boxes into open trunk of the hover car, pulling the straps of the bags from his shoulders he tossed them in the trunk on top of the boxes. Colby looked back at the house and let his shoulders drop.

The cool air was the only welcome feeling as Colby stepped into the house and started down the stairs. Colby stepped around his father as he went back into his room.

“You think you can just step around me like I’m fuckin’ nothing?!” Robert screamed in drunken slur mixed with a little southern pang.

Colby sighed, he could kill him, wanted to. Taking the last of the boxes in his hands he moved back up stairs and back outside and back to the car. For a moment as he closed the trunk of his car he felt like he would be getting off without a hitch, then his mother came outside.

Her hair was a lifeless shade of blonde and her house dress was stained with small rust drops of blood. The skin around her eye was slightly purple and looking at her in the fleeting light made Colby want to cry. “You’re leaving?” she asked in a soft kind and slightly uneven tone.

Colby’s lower lip quivered slightly but he fought the urge to cry, if he started crying he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop and wouldn’t be able to leave. “Get in your car and leave,” he said in a low tone.

“What?” she asked, her tone confused and understanding at the same time. A beaten wife, she knew what was going on all the time but part of her fought for not understanding. Who was it who said ignorance is bliss.

Colby shook his head, “Here,” he pulled a small silver card from his pocket, “Fifty thousand credits, take it.”

“Where did you get this,” she asked in a tone that broke his heart. She looked up at her son with wounded eyes that were glassy with tears.

“Its not important,” Colby said. “Take it, get in your car and go. Stay in Federation areas when you can, when you can’t use that money. Get out of here.” Colby pleaded, “just go.”

“I…I can’t leave your father,” she said weakly defending him even after the years of abuse. “I love him.”

The sorrow Colby felt was burned away by the heat of his hate as it welled up inside of him. He turned back to his mother, “No you don’t,” he almost shouted, “His reach ends here,” he said through clenched teeth. “Get in your car and go.”

“But…I…” and as if the veil had been left her glassy eyes came back to life, “He’ll find me.”

“No he won’t,” Colby said starting back for the house. Halfway between his mother and the house he looked back, “get in the car and go.” He watched her a moment longer, it killed him but he gave her the hardest stare he had ever given in all of his years of being an asshole jock football player. It hurt him, of course it did, how could it not? It hurt him but he had to do it, watching her shrink down and take an unsure step backward then leave, getting into the car.

“Where in the blue hell does she think she is going?” Robert asked as he stumbled out of the house.

“Get back in the house,” Colby said, his head lowered slightly and his fists clenched.

“Fuck you,” Robert shouted in drunken glee, “You think ‘cause you’re playing football and you went to college you can tell me what to do? You fucking kid, fuck you! You son of a bitch.”

Colby walked slowly to his father, “you will never call my mother a bitch again.” His tone was cold and flat and harsh.

Robert laughed and pointed at Colby, “Fuck you! You’re mother is a whore and…”

Robert Elliot’s voice trailed off to silence as Colby slammed his fist into the drunk’s jaw. His right hand flashed back from Robert’s face then flashed forward again, this time mashing down the man’s nose. Colby’s left lanced down and plowed into Robert’s stomach forcing the drunk to fall to his knees. “I said get back in the house,” Colby barked. He leaned forward and picked up his father, throwing him over his shoulder and walking toward the house. Once he was inside he moved into the family room and threw his father’s bulk onto the couch.

Covering his bleeding nose his father looked up, “Well hot shit I am going to fucking beat your ass now.”

“Fuck off,” Colby said dismissively.

“You think you’re really something don’t you?” his father screamed at him, “You’re nothing, you are a piece of trailer shit just like your father.” Robert said smiling with blood covered teeth. “You’re a wigger just like your father, just like ME!”

“Mom left,” Colby said as he pulled his jacket from the closet. “She’s never coming back.”

“Like hell she isn’t,” Robert spat, “She knows the woman’s place.”

Colby shook his head, he was still mad but a kind of calm rage had replaced his earlier crazed anger. “There is no ‘woman’s place’ and if there was she probably forgot it because you hit her one too many fucking times.”

“She deserved every hit she got,” Robert’s voice chimed indignantly. “And she’ll come back,” he said as if he had already found that victory. He probably had, Colby could remember the times she went to her ‘mother’s’ to stay. She left when he beat her too hard only to come back every time. She wouldn’t this time, he could see it in her eyes.

“No you won’t,” Colby said as he started for the door.

“Oh you bet I won’t,” Robert said with a bastard’s smile.

“You look into my eyes and tell me if I am lying,” Colby said stepping toward his father, “You go after her and I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? I will fucking kill you.” there was a cold calm certainty in Colby’s voice that was impossible to ignore.

Robert sat on the couch bleeding and for the first time in his life he was afraid of his son. He tried to smile, “How will you know? You’ll be off being some hot shit football player asshole.”

Colby smiled and shook his head, “I gave up that kids shit up, it was your dream not mine.”

Robert began to cry, “What?” he asked around the sobs of a man living vicariously only to have his reality smashed to nothing. His dream was to play football but he blew out his knees in high school. “You were good, you really had it,” he said as he wept.

“Its over,” Colby said simply as he moved for the door.

“Y-you never had shit, you’re a fuck up!” Robert screamed as he cried, “you’re nothin’ you’re fuckin n-n-nothin’”

“FUCK YOU!” Colby barked at the top of his lungs. He stood like a stone statue, his stare was unflinching and rigidly oppressive. He was only there a moment longer before he turned around and left the house. The slamming door behind him came like the shot marking the end of the war.

The car moved toward the west, putting Nebraska behind it as it did. Colby took glances in the rearview mirror every so often but for the most part tried to keep his view forward. What was behind him was dead, he had to look forward because that was how he would live from now on. As the car cut the air as it moved forward Colby smirked as he looked at the gold tassel from his college graduation, two small gold trinkets hanging with the tassels, a football and a baseball. He shook his head as he looked at it taking it in his hand and yanking it off the mirror and tossing out the open window.

NRPG: Takes place immediately following "Bitter Misunderstanding" and before the current crisis. I'll get a current post out ASAP. :-) ~Lori

"The Counselor's Counselor"

Commander Karyn Dallas
Chief Counselor/Second Officer

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer
USS Galaxy

***
Ready Room,
USS Galaxy
***

"...and so I asked her to tell me why he was removed and what might be going on with him, not expecting a word for word transcript, but some idea of what we were dealing with so when the time came to make another decision regarding his duty status, I could sign off on a well-informed decision. Unfortunately, she took that to be a possible breach of confidentiality. I explained that every client knew that cases could be discussed with other counselors, but as we were all bound by confidentiality agreements, no counselor could or would speak of cases outside of those discussions."

Karyn shook her head, clearly confused and upset. "That's when I was told I could ask questions and that she would answer them in the best interests of her client." She shrugged. "I admire her conviction, sir, but in this instance, she was telling me what I could and could not do, and that didn't sit well with me. I apologized for making her feel incompetent and inexperienced, but I also explained that because she was new, it was going to take time for me to trust her explicitly. It was never my intention to anger her or upset her, and I explained that. Unfortunately, that's when Tampatiean chimed in, and was quite rude."

Dallas took a breath. "I admit, there are things about their relationship I don't understand, and although I was angry, I felt it necessary to point out that if Tam could speak like that to me, then there was no telling what he could say in the midst of a session. It's the equivalent of having an untrained third party present, and while we were on the subject, I raised some confidentiality concerns of my own and asked her to make sure it didn't happen again. That's when Ammanalyn became insubordinate and called me daft." Karyn looked M'Kantu directly in the eyes. "I want to make it clear, sir, the insubordination is why I relieved her, nothing more. I'm sure she'll come to you, but I wanted you to hear my position."

"I understand, Commander," Daren nodded, "and I appreciate your coming to me before this gets, well, ore out of hand." He sighed once and stood, buying time to think as he moved to the replicator with the cold cup of coffee that had adorned his desk for the last three hours of paperwork. "Can I get you something?" he offered as he consigned the cup and its contents to molecular oblivion and then ordered it reconstituted.

"No thank you, sir." She was too wound up to do anything now.

"All right, Commander," he began as he settled back in his chair. "From here, what it sounds like to me is that, in essence, you and Ensign Lywhyn seem to have run headlong into each other's assumptions about how the internal affairs of your department are to be conducted, and how certain privacy policies are to be followed. Which is what you just told me, trimmed down a bit. Correct?"

Karyn blushed, embarrassed by her wordiness. "In a nut shell, yes sir, but I think in the Ensign's eyes it's more than that now. I think because I didn't take kindly to Tam's words, she thinks I'm prejudiced to her heritage, because I asked her to keep Tam under control."

"If I recall what I read in her file before she transferred aboard correctly, yes, I'd say that was likely," he nodded. "Her people's companions aren't exactly symbiotes that attach themselves to humanoid hosts; there's a deeper, more metaphysical connection there, and such things engender strong feelings." He took a slow sip of the coffee and continued, "Misunderstandings and disagreements over metaphysics start wars Commander, they have all through human - and most alien - history; no one likes their connection to the Divine belittled." He took another sip of the coffee and set it down in front of him. "What I need to ask you here is this: are you asking for some assistance in dealing with this issue before it gets out of control? Or further out of control, as the case may be?"

"Yes, sir. I anticipate she'll protest the suspension and ask for a reconsideration, and more than anything, I just wanted you to hear things from my perspective."

"All right," he nodded. "First off, I'm not going to step into the middle of the debate about your internal departmental policies, Commander. Handling issues like that is one of the many privileges that being department head carries with it. You two need to sit down and work that one out between the two of you, without me sticking my official fingers in the pot. It's better for everyone that way. Fewer reports, fewer hard feelings, fewer problems down the road if another issue arises. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, sir, and I will make a point of working things out. I know she doesn't have to agree with me, but I do expect her to follow my orders. If she can't do that, she doesn't belong here. I hope she and I will come to an understanding, but I won't tolerate half-truths. My concerns with Tam have more to do with what he's already done and what he's likely to do in the future. Clients get angry at their therapists, sir, and if he were to perceive what someone said as a threat and reacted like he did with me, what is the recourse? I will ask her, but if she's so emotionally invested, who's to say she's objective? She tried to stop him, but couldn't. And metaphysical connection or no, that concerns me."

"If I understand what you told me earlier, he only began to actively participate in the conversation once the Ensign believed herself to be on the defensive - is that correct?"

"I suppose that's true," Karyn admitted, "but we were having a disagreement, sir, and with Kylar Curran, that's going to happen a lot." *Believe me,* Karyn thought angrily. *I should know*

"Perhaps he would be less likely to do so within the context of a counseling session. To him - or both of them - that may be an acceptable part of the job; they certainly must have had it happen by now. Starfleet has some sort of training program that prepares new counselors for things like that, correct? Either through some sort of role-playing or actual participation?"

"In a session, perhaps, but then again, one also would have thought she would have received training on how to speak to a senior officer," Dallas pointed out. "All I'm saying with regard to Tam is that anything can happen in a session and if he perceives he can do or say anything to someone because he perceives it's disrespectful or a threat? I have a real problem with that. Frankly, I don't think Ammanalyn was too happy with what Tam said, but from what I saw, she wasn't in a position to stop him. Simulations can't prepare for every possibility, and with standard training, both of them still crossed the line. There are going to be times when they disagree with me, sir, and the only thing I need to know is that they're going to respect my decisions even if they disagree. I don't want to feel as though I have to win the approval of both of them, or like I'm dealing with a disagreement on two fronts."

"Commander," Daren observed mildly, "once emotions become involved, you might be surprised what people - even old soldiers like me - will say to a superior officer. During the War, I once suggested to an Admiral that he was the byproduct of an encounter between a maggot-riddled diseased camel and a leprous jackal in the middle of a staff meeting. We both got past that moment, and if a man like Edward Jellico can do that, then I expect you both to be able to do the same - especially you, Commander."

She smiled inwardly. Some of the things she'd said to Brhode would make Lee Price himself cringe. Did he deserve it? Absolutely. Was it the Starfleet way to handle things? Absolutely not. Had he relieved her for it, however, she would have taken it on the chin. "Believe me, sir, no one knows better than I what can happen when emotions become involved, but that doesn't mean I can excuse it completely. Had Jellico been so inclined, he could have relieved you on the spot and he would have grounds for it. That said, I'm not saying I can't forgive her, sir, only that I had to make it clear I wouldn't tolerate disrespect. I want to work this out, and I intend to get past this if Am is willing."

"I thought so," he nodded. "Now, it seems to me that your real issue here is the degree of control the Ensign has over her. companion, and the degree to which it will feel compelled to participate in her work. Am I correct?"

Dallas considered that assessment and nodded. "Aside from the procedural concerns, that is an issue, yes."

"I'm not an expert in symbiotic relationships - if that's even the correct term for the relationship between the Ensign and her companion - by any means, Commander, but the level of control she is able to exert over her companion is a matter that falls within the scope of my responsibility. I need to know what I can and can't assign the Ensign to, and what I can and can't expect from her companion in the way of interaction with the crew." He paused and frowned. "What would happen, for instance, if her companion felt the need to protect her during a session that got heated and attempted to intervene physically? It can assume the form of a large hunting cat if I recall correctly. For that reason alone you might want to consider her assignments carefully. I would not like to have to explain to Command the results of even a casual encounter between the Ensign, her companion, and say, Lieutenant Krieghoff."

Karyn felt some of the color drain from her cheeks and she just hoped it wasn't too noticeable. "That's..." She swallowed and began again, "That's not something I want either, Captain. But as you say, control over her companion is more within your purview than mine. If you speak to her on this matter, I'd appreciate being included as well, that way we're both clear on the limitations she faces."

"That will, I'm afraid, depend entirely on the Ensign and her reaction, Commander. I'm not going to pull her in for a meeting that she'll quite likely perceive as a witch hunt, since that will do more damage than good. If she appears comfortable with both of us being here, then there's no problem, but if she isn't, then I'll have to play it by ear, and that likely means meeting her alone." He steepled his fingers and thought a moment. "You 've had more contact with her than anyone on the ship, Commander, can you tell what her reaction is likely to be?"

Karyn shrugged. "Before today I'd feel more comfortable speculating, but after what happened between us, I'd say expect anything. I'd hope she'd understand where you're coming from with these concerns, but it's just as likely she'll assume you're out to question her heritage the way she thinks I did. I'd give her some time to collect herself before you talked to her, sir, and as much as I'd like to know what you will at the exact moment you know it, I understand why that might not be a good idea. I trust you to inform me of what I need to know."

"I can afford to give her a little time, but not a lot. The longer things go on without better understanding of what her relationship to her companion ism and what it is and isn't prepared to do, the greater the chance that something will occur that none of us, including the Ensign, want to have happen." Daren picked up his coffee and thought a moment longer. "I'll send her a request for a meeting tomorrow. Two days is all I'm prepared to wait on this. Do you believe that to be sufficient?"

"Yes, sir, I think that'll be fine. Under the circumstances, it'll have to be I suppose."

He sighed. "And, since I haven't found anyone to take him yet, you will need to schedule a talk with her about Lieutenant Krieghoff. Hunting cat form or not, I imagine that if her companion attacks him for whatever reason, then Lieutenant will kill it, and I cannot believe that the death of her companion will be beneficial to the Ensign in any way. I think he's the only real danger currently aboard that might trigger such a response, but I could be mistaken." He looked expectantly at Karyn.

Karyn smiled wanly, but if one looked close, one could see it didn't reach her eyes. She wanted to defend him, but found herself tripping over her words. "I imagine the Legate would give Krieghoff and the ensign a run for their money, sir. Of course we all have our bad days, right, Captain?" Dallas suddenly felt much more uncomfortable, and she felt the need to salvage the awkward moment. "I'll speak to her, sir."

"Yes, Commander, we do. The trick is in not letting them become our average days." He set his coffee down. "Is there anything else we need to touch on right now?"

Karyn was relieved the meeting was almost over, but she stopped herself before she could breathe an audible sigh of relief. "No, sir. Thank you for listening, Captain. I feel a lot better for it." She smiled and headed for the door.

"Commander," Daren said as she reached the halfway point, "while I have you here."

Karyn grimaced slightly before turning around to meet his gaze. What more could be wrong? "Yes, sir?"

"When was the last time you took a non-working vacation, Commander?"

Of all the things he could have possibly said to her, Karyn had never in a million years expected him to ask her *that.* Quickly so as not to give the wrong impression, she replied, "I've actually taken a lot more sick days than is normal for me sir. I had that horrid reaction to those shellfish that put me out of commission for a week and then I had a bout of the flu that hung on for a week..." She shook her head and smiled wryly so as to cover her and Victor's lie. "I know what you're getting at, Captain, but I'm really just trying to make up for past mistakes. I do manage to find time for myself every day." Drinking. Alone.

"Sick days are not the same thing as vacation, Commander," Daren observed with a smile. "Once we get clear of this assignment, I want you to think about taking a week or two off - away from the Galaxy - and doing nothing but relaxing. Lie on a beach. Visit some friends. Eat meals that are bad for you without guilt. That sort of thing. No one can do your job for long and not need a break."

Karyn smiled. "I could say the same to you, Captain, but yes, sir, I will think on it. Unless of course it's an order?"

"No, Commander, it isn't an order, not this time. Just a request. I don't like giving order when I don't have to. Makes it look like I'm trying to be an overbearing controller - and I think the Galaxy's seen enough of that for a good while, don't you?"

Dallas couldn't help but wonder if that was a jab, but she could admit she had been overly sensitive about it. "Tell you what, sir; I'll go on a vacation just after you do. That way Galaxy isn't without both of us at the same time, but we're both satisfied. What do you say; maybe we could arrange to eat a bad meal together. Deal?"

"Deal, Commander," Daren nodded. "Providing the universe sees fit to give us the time."

Karyn sighed. "A very big if, I know. And please, call me Karyn."

"It normally takes me a year or so to get to that point in a command," Daren offered. "And even then I like to keep the command and rank titles around to distinguish between comments made by Captain M'Kantu, and those made by plain old Daren. But I'll work on it." Dallas smiled.

"That's all I ever ask of anyone, sir."

"Ball Crashers, Part 1"

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

Location:
Banquet Hall
Gryphon Government Building
Lammergeir

The event couldn't have gone with more stuffiness, boredom, or isolation that its current levels.

No mistaking, there was a certain adversity towards such high end get-togethers when one joined security. The majority of Starfleet security officers came from middle to lower class citizens, ones whom either were straight laced and respected the law enough to become instruments of said law, or were bad seeds willing to try security to make a life that was better for themselves. Both sides tended to join because the higher marks needed in science and mathematics to get into the other programs was sometimes unreachable.

James Corgan was somewhat different. A great student. Not a genius, and that whole traumatic experience incident obliterated his will to live and try during his prime learning years at the academy, but he had enough toughs and smarts to get by on his own. And now that he was trying, the results were much clearer.

One could be a James Corgan, an adventure seeking idiot, or a bored kid with nothing better to do than stand around ramrod straight with a type two phaser rifle in his hands.

Gala's and balls, the cream of the diplomatic crop (drawn from people rich and used to such events) were not made for the entertainment of blue collared personnel. These high-end events still bored the hell out of security officers.

Especially James, whom felt more out of place than most.

Trying desperately to choke down the bubbling filth they called 'synthaholic sparkling wine', James ordered his stomach to hold back its protests for more food. Such was the case with Terran galas, food portions were small, and simple dishes were given fanciful names to woo and impress the gullible. Would it kill the chef to simply call their dessert 'cheesecake', and their meal 'beef steak', and could they please describe what kind of vegetable they were eating without using a different Terran language each time?

What pomposity in this event. It was more images and less substance. The Troyers and the Draysons seemed to keep whatever turmoil underfoot, so as not to alarm their Federation guests, while trying to impress them with gourmet food, wine, and a symphony. Every element needed to win the Federation over.

But not James. Past experiences left him to be a sceptical, cynical sort of person.

So, to help combat his boredom, he sipped his champaign, listened to the band mangle Beethoven's 9th symphony, and waited for the next Troyer/Drayson fistfight to erupt so that he could step in and make the day worthwhile.

"How stuffy." Corgan muttered to himself. As a reward for his cynicism, he drained the glass of champaign.

"Hi." Squeaked a woman behind his back.

In what felt like one heart ceasing moment, as his chest twisted counterclockwise, James Corgan's red alert scale rang off its meter. Turning his head hard (and nearly cricking his neck doing so), he saw nothing when he looked to the right, as he thought the finger that landed on his shoulder a second earlier had originated.

"Over here."

Looking over to the other side, he could easily see the giggled, slightly amused Mika sh'Sonora, bent over to his seated height.

"Oh!" James breathed a sigh of relief, "You fooled me well. My god..."

He was taken aback by Mika's natural ease and beauty. What was it about the Andorian diplomat that could disarm him and put him in a position to like it? She was normal for one, the most normal woman James encountered. There was no struggle to put up appearances, or a contest to try to appease her. She was easy going and gentle, and yet she learned not to be overtly submissive.

Normal was a better change of pace. But every time Mika came into the picture, James was already spoken for. Last time it was Electra Reece, now it was Rebecca Von Ernst.

~"Crap! Rebecca!"~ James remembered regretfully, ~"But really, shouldn't I just let her go..."~

"What's the matter?" Mika asked, "Is the ball not to your liking?"

James Corgan blinked, diverting his attention to Mika, weakly smiling, "What makes you think that?"

"Well..." She coyly smiled, "You had a zombified look to your face, and you were drinking those champaigns like it was your only source of entertainment."

Nodding in agreement, James said, "Then yes, I am bored. This isn't my kind of event."

"Ahhhh... you too." Mika agreed, "The Gryphonites mean well, and I know they are trying to pander to Starfleet's tastes, but I do not see why the party has to be dull because of it. Oh... did you know that the orchestra is really a swing band?"

"Really? Well, they should play some swing." James smirked, "Hell, it would be more fun than this."

"I'll talk to the band." Mika suggested, though it was further in her priorities at the moment. Out of the blue, she popped the question, "So, how come we haven't kept contact?"

A lump formed in Corgan's throat. It seemed a cruel thing to leave a person as kind hearted and gentle as Mika out of his life. It was also even more cruel to lie to her face, though it would have saved his bacon. Therefore, James answered, "Because, I moved on with my life. I thought since I was already with someone else at the time, I couldn't be with you."

"And now?"

The question disarmed James. He didn't know what to say. Not that he was 'taken' already, but that his heart was already pulling him towards someone else.

Rebecca.

But would it be so bad if he let an impossible task and improbable love go? Even Ambassador Hoth put up a cease and desists for James to find her. In all likelihood, Rebecca and James would never be able to meet again.

That train of thought put James in a pause, and Mika only saw the faraway look in his eyes. For the first time, he realized that it was quite possible that he could pine away for Rebecca Von Ernst all his life, wasting what love he had on a woman who was gone forever. During that lifetime, what then? What of his real companions, or anyone else whom cared for him? Was he to leave them all to wait, only to shatter their dream for something that could be unattainable, like he did to Rose?

It was very real that James could be wasting his time thinking about Rebecca, and it was going to deny a wonderful person like Mika a chance at being happy.

"Hard to say." James responded. He felt sick saying anything else.

"Here is what I think." Mika spoke in her gentle voice, sliding closer to Corgan until they were cheek to cheek, "I think we should enjoy each other's company, and see what happens from there."

James looked back at his Andorian companion. Her warm smile and nearly closed eyes, but the bluish blush of her cheeks showed her emotional vulnerability. It was a look that was clearly infatuated, but conflicted and impatient.

~"How long can I keep doing this to people?"~ James thought, aware that an innate charm brought him to such situations. Not knowing what to do, he either left, or let the decision be undetermined, thereby leaving no resolutions. But that was his problem. Resolution was necessary, so he thought, or else... there was hurt. ~"The last time I let someone down like that, I really hurt her. But she was a friend. Mika... she's different. Gentle, beautiful, smart, inciteful, crafty, strong... she is everything I could want in a woman, but how can I be with her without being a hypocrite in the process?"~

"Mika." James said, "I do like you. I want to spend some time with you while I'm here. You're right. Lets enjoy each other's company, and see what happens from here."

"Thank you James. That's all I ask." She whispered, ~"For now..."~

Then, she did an act James didn't expect, an act that possibly attracted the Gryphonite paparazzi.

She leaned over, and gave James Corgan a kiss on the cheek. Pillowy, blue lips drew out a pick blush on his cheeks, leaving an aqua imprint of the act.

"I could not wait to tell you that, James." Mika withdrew, jumping out of her seat, "I have to go talk to your Captain and the other dignitaries. Perhaps we can meet later tonight?"

"Sure thing..." James words ran together and ran long, still dazed at her bold act. At that moment, for such a heated and hasty moment was almost too much to handle, he conjured any excuse to get out. Coincidencially, his kidneys also decided that the synthwine he drank was too much to contain, lest he risk a 'warp core breach' of his own. He stood up from his chair, and nodded his head, "I have to use the men's room. Do you know where it is?"

"Oh, yes. Third door to the left of the entrance." Mika directed, "If you'll excuse me, I have to talk to the Captain."

In a shuffle of small footsteps, Mika sh'Sonora turned from the lovestruck woman back to the Ambassador again, putting on her non-invasive face and ease radiating smile, and gathering her parasol like a toy, holding it over her waving antennae. She walked away from James towards the Captain.

And then gave James one last glance, a brief change from the Ambassador back to the woman, then back again as her head turned forward.

"Dear god... how amazing the changes in her from when we last meet." The security chief wistfully thought, downing another small flute of wine before taking her directions to the bathroom.

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

"Everyone ready?"

"Yes."

"Alright then... one minute. Get ready."

Inside the dark recesses of the men's bathroom, the team was assembled and waiting for the time to strike.

For thirty seven year old Jake Stevens, the unofficial leader and wise man of the group, it was the chance of a lifetime, to prove to himself and his friends what kind of a leader he was, the kind of leader he knew he was when he lead work teams on the construction sites. The foreman who could direct the creation of skyscrapers and apartment complexes alike, and cheer the men into new heights of efficiency, effort and hard work to get the task completed.

This team was no different. He had his work crew, four other men from his construction site, all like minded individuals to their cause. Every man was burly from years of handling industrial equipment and ferrous concrete. All bore rough skin, which they quickly concealed with black leather work gloves. The four men on Jake's team covered their weathered, tight muscled faces with ski masks, also in black, or in their work bandannas to cover the major parts of their faces. The four workmen were younger. One was an apprentice of the second member, a carpenter. The other two were hirelings in their mid twenties, more used to swinging sonic impact hammers than anything else.

Before, they were construction workers. Now, they were a team of freedom fighters, willing to do whatever it took to further their cause. Laser drills and impact hammers were replaced by curved, amber disruptors.

"Time to go to work boys. You know what to do. Run in, do the job, run out. Take as many out as you can." Jake explained it all before, and though he doubted the apprentice received every detail, he assumed the rest would be enough to keep everyone busy. "Oh, and there's a premium and the Starfleet jackboots. Ready."

The workmen grumbled in unison.

"Alright. Lets do this..."

The door whooshed its way open, grinding hidden servo gears that might as well been red alert sirens for the terrorist cell.

"Sh*t." Hissed the foreman, "In the stalls, now!"

All five men took a bathroom stall, latched the door, and stayed there. Jake was smart enough to sit down, to appear as if the stall was occupied.

Footsteps came closer, clacking the floor and echoing the walls. Close, dress shoes, very clean and precise in their step. The feet clacked closer to his stall.

The feet stopped as Jake peered at the bottom of his stall. The feet pointed towards the urinals. A zip of the stranger's fly, and the leaking of urine, followed by a sigh of relief, signalled that all was well.

Jake could sigh of relief as well, if not for evacuating waste.

As the unexpected guest whistled a tune Jake barely recognized from a music player at the worksite, he kneeled down to get a better look at who was intruding. Black shoes, that he could see, but he looked more upwards. Black pants, just like most other dignitaries. For some reason beyond Jake's mind, people loved to wear black at balls. Looking up, he then saw white, and more white... more and more...

And gold! The man at the urinal was unaware of being watched. After he finished his waste evacuation, he zipped his pants and turned to the sinks, without noticing the construction foreman. His chest held a swath of gold, from neck to hip. His collar had three brass pins, one of them with a hollowed out black centre. Oddly enough, an ornamental set of eyeglasses adorned the golden haired, smiling young man. Somewhat tall, not muscled brutishly like Jake's crew. He looked like an easy target.

"Smoke... on the water.... and fire in the sky..." Sang the man that Jake recognized as a high ranking, and very targetable, Starfleet officer, who's hands were not next to his phaser, but plunged into a water sink.

This was it. Fortune smiled on the construction cell.

He was the one. Jake Stevens knew it.

*Tock tock* he tried to rap on the stall, quiet enough to keep it away from the officer's ears.

*Tock tock* came his second's reply. The carpenter seen him too, and he was passing the message along.

It was time.

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

*Tock tock*

So faint was the noise that James ignored the first one, over the rush of water, the song in his head, and the thoughts of sweet, beautiful Mika. If it wasn't the synthahol's voluntary drunkenness that felt this way, it was the feeling he could not bear himself to say, but felt good to feel nonetheless.

*Tock tock*

A faint iota of a sound as James shut off the water. What was it? It was water... no! It was knocking. A quick glance brought his attention to the stalls.

All occupied.

"Wait..." James hummed to himself. The legs in the stalls did not look like Troyerite or Draysonite pants and boots. They were sturdy looking for footwear, and the pants looked like drab, durable denim.... "What the..."

1321