"Hazard Team Business"

Lt Commander T'Chani Darion,
Hazard Team CO

Major Pete Shaw,
Hazard Team XO

USS Miranda

As she sat at her desk T'Chani ran a hand through her hair. Things had gone crazy or maybe it just felt that way. Somehow the Hazard Team CO had stolen a few private moment from other tasks, just to clear her head. To do so Darion retreated to a holodeck dressed in a gi, with her katana in hand.

T'Chani warmed up with a few stretches then some karate moves. Then she moved onto sword work. Near the end of her workout she summoned Shaw to join her.

Pete walked down the corridor. Whatever had been going on gave him one major headache, but it was more or less over now. T'Chani had called him to the holodeck, for what he did not know As Pete came up to the holodeck he saw that a program was running. "Computer who is running the program?"

["Lt. Cmd. T'Chani Darion,"] the computer replied.

Pete pressed tech button to open the door, and he entered and looked around for her.

The Hazard Team commander was standing on the far side of a grassy area just outside of a Japanese style structure. When T'Chani noticed her 2IC enter she stopped. "Thank you for joining me."

"Not a problem," Pete replied as he took a few steps closer. "You wanted to see me?"

She nodded, "Yes I did and I figured the holodeck was a nice change of scenery rather than my office. Either way a matter has come up that I think we need to discuss."

"I'm all ears," Pete replied getting ready for the news that she was about to give.

"What do you know about our newest addition to the Hazard Team?" T'Chani figured it was best to find that out before going any further.

"Not much," Pete replied. "Just that he is a great assett to the team, and his service record. That is about it."

T'Chani looked at him for a moment, "There's more to it than that. How much of it has actually gone into his service record at this point I don't know. Its a touchy matter."

"What do you mean?" Pete asked. This now sparked his intrest, something that was going on that he didn't know about.

"He's had some problems that require special attention," she continued by way of explanation.

"By that I am guessing you mean something to do with medical, and restricted duty?"

Solemly T'Chani nodded, "Thats exactly what I'm referring to considering he's being watched like a hawk. I want you to keep an eye on him and if what I've laid out is too much or there his mind is free to wander I want to know."

Pete nodded, "will do. May I ask what has led to all of this?" Pete asked.

"This doesn't leave this room," she replied then continued, "Felecium is the short answer. He ran into some forced to use it against his will."

Pete thought about it for a second. He knew what it was, and it wasn't pretty. To use that is like using 'Coke' or 'Pot' from the 21st centry. "I understand. Are we just letting him recover from this through medical?"

T'Chani answered him, "I had the power along with the Captain to end his career during the court martial hearing. It was only by the insightful thinking of Commander Brex that we chose to give him a second chance with heavy restrictions. Medical is handling the rehab side, Brex chose to see to his welfare as part of the ship's Rugby team. I've taken him off field ops until further notice and given him other tasks to accomplish."

"Sounds good," Pete said. 'Rugby team?' Pete said to himself. He must have missed a memo. "Is there anything special that you would like done from my end? Get him set up for admin work, that kind of thing?"

"Keep an eye on him make sure that he's not to overworked but at the same time doesn't have too much time to let his mind wander. The rest is up to him." T'Chani replied. "No matter what happens I need this team functioning at 110% all of us."

"Will do," Pete replied. "I will also set him up on some special assignments to get him certified in other fields. That should keep him busy and not overworked, and it will help the team out overall. I have been meaning to sit down and get some of the members certified in other areas, and I guess he will be the first."

"Good plan. Before I forget we're scheduled to meet with Lt Commander Corgan. It will be a good change to show off the team's capabilities." T'Chani fully agreed with Shaw's suggestion of further cross training.

Pete smiled at the chance to show the team off. "I will have something planned to show him," Pete said. "Maybe a good old rescue of the commanding officer."

His answer made T'Chani smile, "One officer to rescue is far too easy. Up the stakes a bit."

Pete thought for a second, "Captain and XO being held at gun point, deep inside a bunker. Lets say being guarded by Naussicans. They are a mean group."

"I like the way you think," the Hazard Team CO replied. "If we're going to show them what we are capable of we might as well do it right."

"And I will make sure we will. I will give the team a normal pre-mission briefing and help them form a plan on getting in, then they are on their own. Doing this by the book.... well as much by the book as I ever go by."

"Exactly besides a training exercise like this one is good for keeping our skills fresh. If that's all then I'll let you get back to your duties," T'Chani replied confident that Shaw could come up withi a tough demonstration to work the team as well as display their talents.

Pete nooded slightly. He had phased out the salute for her as they become more of friends then a CO and her XO and he respected her as a friend, even after the matter so many months back. Pete then turned and left leaving T'Chani to what she was doing, and to get to work on what he needed to do.

"Of Pastries and Scientific Progress"

Adrianne 'Adri' Laril-Prescott,
Miranda Kid

Selok,
Miranda Kid

*****

Children's Lounge,
USS Miranda

The diagram of the Sol system was perfect in every way. From the spectrum of colors to the relative mass and sizes of the planets and sun of the system, it was as much a work of art as it was a work of science. It suited the young half Vulcan in more ways than one, and he indulged himself in a small smile as he regarded his masterpiece. This was to be part of his science project, in fact it's crowning achievement.

Selok carefully placed the diarama on the counter and turned to grab the cover to protect it from his rather over-exuberent classmates when someone came charging into the room.

"Oh hey, Selok, exactly who I was looking for," Adri said as she whirled into the room, her trademark backpack firmly planted on her back. "I just finished baking some Algolian Sweet Rolls and wanted somebody to share them with. Oh hey, is that your science project under that sheet. Shoot. I really should get started on that."

"Yes," he agreed, though to what he didn't specify. This particular girl was more emotional than even his mother, and he arched an eyebrow at her, "The science project is due, after all, at the end of the week."

Adri laughed, "Oh, don't worry. I've got an idea fleshed out, I just haven't started putting it together yet. In any case, try some of these. I want to know what you think." She unrolled the wax paper package that she'd removed from her bag and laid out four sweet rolls.

"What are they?" he asked suspiciously. He did recall the last time someone had tried one of Adri's concoctions. He never realized that a human could turn quite that shade of green.

"I just said, Selok, Algolian Sweet Rolls... Hmm. I really need to get off this pastries tangent I'm on. Last week it was Bolian Crisps," she said, offering him one of the pastries, "Anyway, they have sweet grain in them. Hey, you're not allergic to anything, right?"

"Not that I know of," he replied as he looked dubiously at the treat in his hand, "Have you tasted them already?"

"Uhm... Well, no, but I'll go first," she said, picking up another one of them and tasting it, "Not bad. It could do with a little less sugar, I think, but overall not too bad."

He examined the pastry in his hands, as if his intellect could deduce it's ingredients...It was illogical to put anything in one's mouth that one could not tell where it had been nor what was in it. However, his illogical human half was winning the argument. He was the, as the human phrase went, odd man out when it came to the classroom. He was not as emotional as the others, instead he tended to be the more, well, grounded one.

He defiantly put one into his mouth and chewed carefully. Once he had completed the chewing and swallowing, he looked at Adri with a faint smile on his face, "It is not...that bad at all."

Adri breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. I was beginning to think I'd never make something you guys would like. John still hasn't quite forgiven me for the incident with the Hasperat."

"I cannot say that I blame him, Adri. He was, after all, sick for a good week," Selok replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Nope. Neither can I. There was no way for me to know he was alergic short of testing all of you, but it still wasn't any fun for him," she said, "So you're good at science, right? I'm good at the math aspect of it, but not really the conceptual stuff."

"Yes. Science is fascinating...the math, logic, the shear beauty of it amazes me," he enthused, for a moment looking all too much like a young human child with his first toy. Then the mask slipped back into place, "I apologize, Adri. I forget myself sometimes..."

She laughed briefly at the irony of it. "In case you haven't noticed, so do I," she said, gesturing toward John, who was working on something across the room. "Anyway, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me on my project. I was planning on doing something about the effects of phaser impact on different starship hulls, but I can't get past the chemical effects part. There's not enough information readily available for me to get a real grasp."

"I can help you," he nodded, "Though it depends on how detailed you wish to get on your analysis. My mother used to work at Utopia Planetia Shipyards on Mars and kept several manuals on ship construction should I prove interested in engineering. Should you desire it, I could provide those to you as an added resource."

"That'd be great," Adri said, "It'd certainly help with the Federation aspect. I was going to compare the different races hulls and their tolerances. I'll probably have to go beg Commander Wolfson for information. Provided she hasn't found out my unscheduled exploration of the Jeffries tubes. Oh shoot. Mouth went faster than the brain again. I don't supoose you could keep that a secret?"

Another faint smile was her reward for that comment, "I can indeed. Provided you can keep from Commander Mitchell my unauthorized excursion into the science labs." It was a fair trade in his estimation. "It might also be possible to provide you with details on a Vulcan hull. All that it would require is access to the ship's database and a query to the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Consider it done," the mostly Bajoran girl grinned, "After all, mum says Commander Mitchell is a self-important, self-centered prick. I think that's what she said anyway, and she'd just come back from a staff meeting. I get the impression that a lot of the crew agree. And I'd really appreciate that Vulcan hull information."

"That is my understanding as well. I will provide that information to you as soon as I can, Adri," Selok nodded, "Though..." he turned towards her, "Would you like to see what I have done for my project? It is an analysis of the effects of solar wind on the Sol system over the past thousand years." He lifted the sheet to show her the diorama with the tiny glowing sun in the center.

"Sure," she said. Selok always did a good job on the science side of thing. He could even give her friend Mika a good challenge, and it was usually a toss up to see who got a better grade on the project.

He explained some of the minor details of his project, pointing out the effects of the solar wind on the various celestial bodies in the Sol System, "Are you planning on creating a diorama of your project?"

"I was thinking about it, but I'd have to get some pretty hard to find materials and convince somebody to shoot them with a military grade phaser," she said, before it hit her, "Oh hey. We're sitting right next to a ship graveyard. Maybe Uncle Wes could take me out there."

"Uncle Wes?" he queried.

"Major Hammond, Rogue Squadron's Commander," she explained, "Not really my uncle, but he might as well be. I think I may have been one of the first people he met coming onboard.

"I understand. It does no harm to ask a question," Selok nodded, "Perhaps he would be so willing."

"So is yours finished, or do you have more to do?" she inquired, leaning in to examine the diagram that he'd painstakingly constructed, careful not to disturb it.

"I need to complete my summary on the paper. Otherwise, it is complete," he nodded.

"Well, thanks for the help. I should get down to the fighter bay, I guess," she said, starting to pack up. When she came to the pastries she turned back to Selok, "Do you want another one of these for later. I have more back at home."

"Certainly," Selok nodded, accepting the treat, "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll try to come up with something that isn't a pastry for next week," she offered, then said by way of salutation, "Walk with the prophets, Selok."

He held up his hand in the ta'al and nodded, "Live long and prosper, Adrianne."

She grinned, shouldered her bag, and ran from the room, regaining her aura of permanent motion.

"Passing the Test"

by
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Operations,
USS Galaxy

with
Ensign Aristi Ferguson (PCC/APC)
Navigation,
USS Galaxy

Location: USS Galaxy, Ens. Tarin's quarters and surrounding hallways

The day had been long and quite abusive on the feet. Even a pair of well-worn and by now extremely comfortable standard-issue Starfleet boots couldn't keep Ensign Tarin's feet from protesting their rough treatment. Omitting the three lowest decks (schematics had been enough to show her what was down there), Iniara had in the past few hours traversed the entire ship, from Deck 39 all the way up to Deck 1. Idly, she wondered just how many kilometers that amounted to.

Descending just one deck from the top, Iniara made her way through the broadly curved hallways to her quarters. She had completed her goal of gaining a basic familiarity with all parts of the ship, even if it had taken her well into the evening to complete the tour. Satisfied, her mind turned to thoughts of shedding her uniform, kicking her feet up, and relaxing a little before...

~Roommate?~ That word alone entered Iniara's thoughts as she stepped into her quarters, noting the obvious presence of another being in her newly acquired living space. A large, multicolored blanket lay folded up at the foot of one bunk, and several holoimages and various knicknacks were spread across the low shelf that ran across the head of the bunk. A couple larger pieces dotted the desk to her left. Some of the pieces looked like artifacts, others just looked like ordinary rocks, while one or two looked like a combination of both.

Musing on the artifacts and things Iniara wondered what her roommate would be like, and where she was at the moment since the room was obviously empty. She let her PADD, its smooth exterior now quite warm from being carried around all day, clatter to the other, empty desk. Apparently this one was now hers.

"Hello?" A muffled voice filtered in from the back corner of the room. "I'll be out in a second, just putting some things away." So the room wasn't empty after all.

The voice, apparently female, sounded friendly enough. It also contained an accent, maybe Terran, giving the words almost a melodic quality. "Take your time," Iniara called back, stooping to pull her duffel out from under the desk so she could unpack as well.

"Oh! I figured you wanted the right side of the room," the voice continued, "since your stuff was under the desk on that side." Iniara shrugged in indifference, although she knew the other woman couldn't see it. "I went ahead and took the left side. I hope you don't mind, but if you want to we can always swap, no trouble. Ah, finished!" Iniara heard something, a small trunk perhaps, slam shut.

A moment later the owner of the voice emerged, smiling widely. Close to Iniara's height and build, she was dressed in a smartly pressed officer's uniform, with a single gold pip gleaming brightly on her deep red collar. A subtle red sheen accented her glossy black hair, which was side-parted and swept back loosely from her youthful face and held at the nape of her neck by a dull silverish barrette. Her eyes, perhaps the most interesting feature on her face, were mismatched: the left eye was a nondescript brownish-grey while the right was a significantly lighter solid grey, almost a silver color, and most definitely artificial.

But Ensign Tarin saw none of this as she faced her new roommate. All she could concentrate on was the woman's high forehead, protruding facial ridges, pale greyish skin, pronounced neck...

Cardassian.

"You must be Iniara," she began, her voice and demeanor radiating excitement. "I'm Aristi. Aristi Ferguson. It's a pleasure to meet you, roommate!" Aristi stuck her hand out, still smiling.

For Iniara, the whole universe seemed to slow, as if she was now moving underwater. ~*ohnothiscantbehappening*~ She was only vaguely aware that her grip on her bag had loosened, allowing it to drop noiselessly to her feet with almost comical slowness. ~*pleasenotthisanythingbutthishelpmehelpmehelpme*~ She saw her own hand reach out and firmly grasp Aristi's, barely feeling the warmth emanating from the smooth grey skin. "Good to meet you, Aristi," she heard herself say.

~*dontpleaseletgosowarmhotgetbackrunawaygogogonow*~

Aristi's smile faded just a bit as she sensed something amiss. "You okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Iniara forced out, somehow managing to release Aristi's hand. ~*getbackrunawaynowdamnyougogogo*~ Her conscious mind had recoiled in surprise and near-horror; military discipline and a great deal of personal willpower were the only things keeping her together. "Just..." She took a deep breath, her mind screaming at itself to do something, anything. ~*GOGOGONOWGONOWGO*~ "Just realized I...forgot something. On...the...bridge." She took another deep breath, almost regaining control. "I gotta go. Be right back."

And with that, Iniara turned and almost fled her quarters, leaving behind a very confused Aristi, who really hoped it wasn't (but somehow knew it was) her appearance that had scared Ensign Tarin clear out of the room.

Out in the hallway, Iniara staggered away, clutching at her chest and gulping down huge gasps of air. She was no medical expert, but it certainly felt like she had been on the verge of a panic attack. Staring into the face of one's most feared and hated enemy was bad enough, but learning they were to be sharing your living space for goodness only knows how long was almost too much to take.

Iniara summoned the first turbolift she could find, almost falling into the tiny circular room. She tried to calm herself, eyes squeezed painfully shut as she screamed at her mind to just...~*thisistoomuchicanttakethiswhothefuckhowamigonnalivethrough*~

"SHUT UP!" she screamed to nothing in particular.

A split second later the computer chirped. "Please repeat the request," the turbolift asked in its pleasantly neutral voice.

Confused, Iniara stopped for a second. Then she laughed. At first it was a little chuckle, but the chuckle fed itself and grew until it was almost a sick cackle. She had almost lost it! Suddenly discovering a Cardassian in her quarters had jarred her like very few things had done before, but now it just seemed absurd. She was on a Starfleet vessel, and her roommate was a Starfleet officer. Not a sadistic Gul, not an Obsidian Order agent, just a plain old Starfleet Ensign. A friendly one at that.

Someone had stuck them together for a reason, there was no other explanation. Iniara had a good idea what that reason might have been, but she had no clue who might have had the final word in assigning them to the same quarters. Maybe it was a test, for one or even both of them. That had to be it, she reasoned. And with new resolve, Iniara exited the turbolift, striding down the hallway and back into her quarters.

"Get what you needed?" Aristi asked, now perched on the corner of her bunk.

"Yeah," Iniara responded, still relatively calm. "Sorry about that. So, where were we?"

She smiled, outwardly and inwardly. ~I can do this. I will pass this test.~

"A friendly body"

Commander Navarre Shinta
CMC Gabriel Mahler

Shinta was stretching, dressed in her workout clothes she was warming her muscles. "You know, even at your age you should try to stay in shape."

The old Chief of the Boat cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Excuse me?"

"Face it, old man, you are just scared I will whip your ass." Just being in the gym made her feel better. And she grinned at him.

He was fairly sure he wouldn't have to hold back very much. Shinta was a capable fighter, but he planned on landing a few punches just to get her off balance, maybe even make that self-control of hers, the one that was causing all the trouble, to crack for a few. Get her angry for real. Mahler pulled on the sparring gloves, adjusting the velcro for a good fit and rolled his eyes in response.

She put on her gloves still taunting him.

"You going to talk me into submission or do you actually plan to hit me at some point?" the old man grinned and bit down on the mouth guard, pulling the guard tight.

Shinta came at him using some kickboxing techniques, yet she was holding back not wanting to hurt him

Sensing she was holding back Mahler made sure she wouldn't do that again. A couple of quick jabs found their mark, not really harmful, but annoying as hell.

"You..." she mumbled and then put some extra effort into it. This was going to be more of a fight than she expected.

Despite his age Mahler had a good footwork. He refused to get cornered and kept waving his body back and forth while working with the jab, using the two advantages he had - reach and weight. His bodyhits, although certainly not at full power, still landed heavily. But again that was more to make Shinta angry than have any real effect.

And she was beginning to get angry, certainly not holding back any more. Shinta was now totally focused and trying to take him out.

"What?" he asked with a sly grin. "Surprised the dinosaur could move?"

"I will get you." She growled. "Don't think that after all this time you can win."

Mahler replied with a taunting grin, but was greeted with a hard hook to the side of his head. He pulled back, finding his rhythm again and went back to jabbing. When ever possible he went close and clinched Shinta, locking up her arms, once again using weight and reach to his own advantage. Anything to get her angry.

It was definitely getting to her. Now she was not holding back at all, and she was swinging at him with the beginnings of real anger. A lot of aggression was coming out.

He pulled the guard tighter, blocking most of the blows with his arms and hands. There were less precision in her swings and more power. Good. Her eyes had gotten darker too which was exactly what he wanted. He continued to jab to ruin as much of her own rhythm as possible, adding to her frustration. But in exchange he had to take a few blows that hit him squarely in the side.

Gabe was beginning to fade, she was beginning to see an object to hit, something at which to let the anger out. So the blows became less co-ordinated yet faster and harder as tears leaked from her eyes.

There was not much to do except let Shinta go at it. Dodging the blows would not have been too difficult, but it would also undo what was happening inside Shinta. Instead the old sailor tightened the guard even more and rolled with the blows as best he could. He'd feel it in the morning, but it would be worth it.

It took her several minutes until she realised that she was doing and then she stopped abruptly, horror on her face. "Gabriel, I am so sorry." She said between the tears.

Mahler took out the mouth guard and looked at Shinta with warm and friendly look on his face. "What for? You haven't done anything wrong."

"You weren't fighting back. I used to be an instructor, I should have..." the tears were still coming.

"I didn't have to.. you had your hands full fighting yourself." Gabriel told her calmly and took off the gloves.

A second later she hid in his arms and finally didn't try to hold back the flood any longer.

He wrapped a pair of strong arms around her, gently rocking her while the knots started to loosen up inside of her. Being a good officer was not always about being good with weapons. At times it was about being humane. Being able to make people believe in themselves, to make them feel needed and understand that it is alright to feel bad at times.

She had a long cry her whole body shaking. Then she released herself feeling a little bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's just... I hardly remember my father... and you..." she blushed. "It should be the other way around I should be there for you."

The Starfleet veteran looked at Shinta, his hand resting on her shoulder. "We all need someone from time to time... this time it was you.." Mahler told her gently. "Simple as that... and as for you being there for me, well.. you already have. More than you know."

She smiled slightly through her tears.

"I'm here for you. Whenever the sky gets to dark or the sea too rough, I'm here. I'm here even with blue skies and calm horizons." The white haired man promised her, a promise coming from a man who took his word very seriously.

"Thank you. It lifts some of the strain. I should do this more often."

"That's why I sail. It clears the head like nothing else."

"Usually hitting a punchbag does it for me... so how about we get that drink now?"

Mahler nodded. "Sounds like a good idea.. meet you there in thirty minutes."

"Certainly." She gave him another hug and then moved to the showers.

"Learning Colors From a Blind Man"

Lt. Ella Grey
Arkedi Nitel'rajek

Ella knocked on the frame of the open door and then waved when the occupant of the room looked up from what he was reading. She passed him the computer PADD with the prewritten message.

*DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE?*- it read.

Confused, Arkedi glanced back and forth between this new PADD and the one he was reading, 'Restricted Negative Adverb Movement in Federation Standard.' It contained only one line of text. Curious, he thought. He glanced up at the young woman who had handed it to him; a few inches shorter than he, brown hair and eyes, human, very cute, then back at the PADD. To bad he didn't know what it said.

"This is 'Standard' text?" he asked, then he shrugged, his large purple wings shifting upwards in the movement, "I cannot read Federation Standard text. You can just tell me that it says what?"

Ella blinked and then smiled. Trust a linguist to not know how to read Standard. She pointed to her throat and then shook her head.

Linguists rule number one: when you don't understand a communication signal, repeat it. So, Arkedi smiled, though it was more of an awkward half smile, took his own finger and pointed it to his throat. It spit out a sound, "Eh?"

Used to this, Ella repeated the gesture and then pretended to speak, only without words, and then shook her head again.

Arkedi watched her gestures with great, uncomprehending, curiousity. Finally it coalesced, "Ih! You cannot speak?"

The engineer nodded. She walked over and took back her PADD. *DO YOU UNDERSTAND KLINGON?* She wrote in Klingon. Ella had learned how to read the language during her stay at the Academy. It was the only other language that she knew.

Arkedi studied the PADD for a moment. Then he rotated it in his hands, and looked, then spun it again so that now it was upside-down. Then he craned his neck, rotating his head around in the opposite direction. The sound of a palm slapping against a forehead caused him to look back up. "Sema, itu. I do not know this text also," he apologized, handing the PADD back.

Ella sighed. This was becomming more difficult than it was worth.

"Ih! Ih, I know. Can you write Mika'Kardi?"

A blank expression crossed her features and then she shook her head. Ella held up her finger in a 'one moment' gesture and walked out of the office. A minute later she returned, dragging along the first hapless, Federation Standard speaking, ensign that she could find.

The ensign read the new message outloud. "It says, I would like your help to teach me how to speak."

"Teach you to speak? Teach you to speak Mika'kardi?" he asked confused, uncertain if the text translated correctly.

Ella pinched the bridge of her nose and then replied on the computer PADD. The ensign dutifully read. "No, I would like you to teach me how to speak Federation Standard."

"Ih, I see," Arkedi said, nodding to himself. He continued that motion silently for another moment, his eyes gradually losing focus before they jerked back up to Ella. "Huh?" he questioned, then looked over at the misplaced ensign, "She means what?"

The ensign looked around the room, as if he had just been woken from a nap by being called on by a teacher. "Uh..." he stalled, his eyes darting towards Ella and then back at the PADD. "She wants you to teach her how to speak Federation Standard," he read again.

"She knows 'Standard.' She writes it to you now already," Arkedi explained, peering at the screen and confirming the recognizable, though unreadable, text.

Ella litterally slapped her forehead and then wrote a long winded message for the ensign. "Uh, she says she has been voluntarily mute for a few years and she's trying to teach herself how to speak again. She says youre supposed to be good and wonders if you could give her a few guidelines."

"Am good, eh?" Arkedi repeated perking up in mock pride. "Well, of course I shall help then."

The ensign turned towards Ella, "You're voluntarily mute? I thought you were born that way, why on Earth would anyone choose not to speak?"

Ella, of course, gave no response save for a dark glare that Victor would have been proud of. The ensign took in a breath of air as he leaned back slightly, "Right, I understand."

"You have been mute for long time, yes? Many years? Forget how speak, ka kechakedi," the Fruna'lin mumbled, slipping into his native tongue. "Esema, examination one. Make sound."

Ella fervently shook her head.

"Oh," The ensign replied. "She won't talk in front of us though."

This clearly did not make sense to Arkedi. He turned to the ensign, his hand gesturing towards Ella, and opened his mouth to speak. "If she does not..." he started, but paused as the ensign pointed to Ella. Arkedi continued, redirected, "You will not speak to me, I will teach you how?"

"Tell me how its usually done." The ensign said reading her message. "And I will do it on my own."

"Speech, you learn, um..." Arkedi began, searching for the words. He put out his hands, passing them back and forth over each other, slowly decreasing amplitude until they met and stuck together. "You learn imitation and correction."

Ella tilted her head. That made sense, of course. She wrote on her computer PADD.

"Do you have any programs that I could do this with?" The ensign asked for Ella.

The linguist sat and thought for a moment, leaning onto the back of a chair. "Is much data I can give. And records, um, sound records. Imitation," he said, symbolically offering his hand. "But, computer cannot correct you; cannot figure out that you are doing what wrong. Not easy, very hard to do that. But I do, yes? I will teach you."

Ella pursed her lips in thought. She could probably create some kind of program in collaboration with this man that *did* correct her. Better a program to hear her than a real person. She asked him, through the ensign, if this was possible.

Arkedi shrugged. "Perhaps. But, I do not understand you will not let me teach you why?"

"Because I'm not ready to have anyone hear me...yet." The ensign dutifully read. "I suppose this is all top secret and that you will sick your lover on me to kill me if I speak word of this to anyone," he then asked his voice, Ella. He was again rewarded with another glare, though this one meant to confirm the seriousness of the situation rather than to strike fear. "Right, yes, obviously."

The Fruna'lin watched the two interact, trying to reason out thier implied communications and priorities, trying to understand the engineer's situation. He couldn't and the attempt made his head hurt. "You humans," he said, his face collapsing into his open hands, "you make no sense, do not understand. I will help, sema, of course." He lifted his gaze, "But, you .... are odd."

Ella smiled.

"Well, all right then," the ensign said, "now that I'm thoroughly late for duty, I'll be going now. He waved, more of a half salute, then turned to leave the office.

"Ynel! Er, uh, wait!," Arkedi called after, "Her name. I do not know, her name is what?"

The ensign stared at the alien, like he just said the universe wasn't expanding. "Ella Grey, in Engineering. You don't know her, you don't know Ella Grey? She's the mute, everyone knows Ella Grey. I hear she's really limber, if you know what I mean," he winked, clicking through the side of his mouth twice.

While it was true that she was pretty limber, she didn't really like the implications of that statement. Ella gave the ensign a long, appraising look that had him forgetting his girlfriend for a moment. And then he snapped out of it and walked quickly away. Ella chuckled.

"Wait," Arkedi pleaded, half towards Ella, half yelling down the corridor. "Wait, I, I do not....limber? Means what, I, I do not know 'what he means,'" he rambled, his voice becoming more desperate as the ensign retreated. But, he could get no answer, he could only get Ella's silent gaze.

"Elite and Lofty?"

By Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander Arel Smith
Commander Rayna O'Grady
Lieutenant Commander T'Chani Darion
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Major Peter Shaw

Location: Holodeck Six, USS Miranda

The meeting James was about to engage in was... intimidating at best.

Stepping out of a visit with Commander Navarre, Miranda's chief counselor and ex-crewmate of the Galaxy's chief of security, James hurried to his meeting with a feeling of forboding. Common pre-meeting anxiety, the usual Chudian Bolweevles in his stomach churning up acid all the way to his throat, the slightly wobbled step, the way the turbolift lurched that much more when he stepped in and asked to be shot electromagnetically upwards to the next deck.

All very normal.

James was about to meet more ex-crewmen for the first time in years. Commanders Arel Smith and Rayna O'Grady were on the Galaxy during his first tour of duty, and they were reliable officers. Rayna was a professional, all the more admirable since she balanced a family life with her duties. Arel Smith, the last he checked, was a Human with a Klingon heart... and a Klingon attitude which gave her a hot under the collar disposition. To reach the rank of Commander must have been a learning experience indeed!

The Hazard Team CO and XO were a mystery to him. T'Chani Darion, a Romulan/Betazoid hybrid, therefore James had to be on guard for stray thoughts and comments in which the Hazard Team leader could pick up (thereby, no deceit). Major Peter Shaw he knew not much about, but he was a Marine, and James' experience with the Marines on the Galaxy was less than positive. He would have to keep his biases to himself.

Lastly, Captain Elaithin Jii added to the mix of noteworthy members of the Miranda's crew. James served under Elaithin while Elaithin was the security chief. Seeing him with a red uniform and four pips on his collar was a sight he couldn't get used to.

Of course, James really had no way of knowing that was adjustment that had taken Jii quite some time as well.

All factors that led to his nervousness collided when he meet with the Miranda's counterparts. It was James that was going to be scrutinizing the Hazard Team and considering a Galaxy version of the team himself. James was the one that would access their readiness and effectiveness in combat and peacetime scenarios. Why was he nervous? Was it the weight and possible consequences, the pure fact that this meeting was going to determine if the Galaxy was going to have an elite squad?

Or was it the fact that he was the lowest ranking officer, taking advice from rank superiors? Technically, T'Chani was the lowest rank, with Shaw as her equivalent, but she was the CO of an elite squad, and he the Exec. James was the equivalent of a wheat chewing county sherriff. There was no way James could be their equals!

Corgan did not want to waste time with the introductions. "Good day everyone." James extended his hand out, "I am Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, the USS Galaxy's Chief of Security."

"Lieutenant Commander T'Chani Darion, Hazard Team CO," she kept her introduction short then turned to her XO. "Are we all set to go Major?" After a long trip back to the Alpha Quadrant she was looking forward to showing off the Hazard Team's abilities.

Captain Elaithin walked into the holodeck not a moment later, his step rushed. He'd just come from his breakfast with Captain M'Kantu, and the message of warning the pair had received. A million thoughts were spinning through his head as he'd returned to the Miranda, remembering that he'd made an appointment with 'Commander Corgan in regards to the Hazard Team.

"James!" he said amiably, hiding his concerns. They could wait for the moment. Nothing to be done until Command contacted them in a more official capacity anyway. For now, all he could do was quietly get the Miranda's crew ready, while Daren did the same for Galaxy's. "It's good to see you. Welcome aboard the Miranda."

"Thank you very much, sir. It has been awhile, and I'm glad to see that you are doing well." James vigorously shook Jii's hand, "I thank you for taking time off your schedule for this meeting, for I'm sure you must be very busy. I hear that you guys have something special prepared this morning."

"I'm sure 'Commander Darion will be more than willing to oblige." the Captain replied, stepping back to defer to the Hazard officers, who were the center of attention here.

"Major Pete Shaw, Hazard XO," Pete told the Galaxy's Security Chief. Pete looked back at T'Chani, "And we do, Commander. I have set up a basic assault mission, with the rescue of the Captain and First Officer. The team will have to get in, and get the Captain and First Officer out safely. All standard rules apply, if your hit, you will feel it, but it wont be lethal, even if its a shot to the head. The computer will also keep track of your health, and tell if you will be able to go on or not," he finished.

Commander O'Grady walked in, hearing just the tail end of what the Major was saying. The few months had taken a toll on her and it showed. She looked somewhat tired and a bit older too. Rayna didn't say much to anyone. She was told to report but was never told what it was about. She studied the people around her, resting her eyes on Corgan.

"Commander O'Grady!" James cheerfully greeting another ex-comrade, "Thank you for coming, ma'am. It has been awhile."

Rayna spoke in an almost monotone voice, "Thank you. A lot has changed since then."

Elaithin's heart went out to his former Executive Officer then. It had been nearly three months since her husband had disappeared, during their encounter with the counterparts from the mirror universe. Mike O'Grady had been a good husband to Rayne, who'd desperately deserved one. He'd been a friend to Jii as well. After an exhaustive search of the ship, the only conclusion left available was that he somehow remained on "the other side of the looking glass."

It was a sobering and frightening thought, and Miranda's crew could only hope for the best for one of their own, now lost in the woods.

"Oh... I... *ahem*." The Galaxy's security chief coughed, taken aback by O'Grady's response. He then shifted to a less calm and casual greeting, and back into a more businesslike form. His words were crisp and precise, without the jovial nature of before. His goal was to impress, and he forgot that his previous reputation as an unstable basketcase would be detrimental to his presentation. "Sorry to take time out of your schedules, Sirs and Ma'ams, but I wanted to speak to everyone involved in this meeting about implementing a Hazard Team onto the USS Galaxy."

Rayna stood there and nodded. She had no other comment at that time.

Pete stood there and listened. He stood straight up, not slouching at all.

James continued on with his speech, "You see, during my service as the Chief of Security on the Galaxy, I have found that we encounter threats that need more than a Security team to handle. Much like the USS Voyager, Enterprise, and the Miranda, the Galaxy has often encountered hostile forces. Since the major refit on our vessel, we have encountered Tholians, fought off Orion, beat back a Romulan ambush, survived a haunted starship and barely escaped a revolution that brought down the Gryphon Coalition. Since our ship has been refitted to be a war vessel, we are sent to some dangerous areas."

Settling his breath, James thought he was doing well. He wanted to wrap up his speech quick, for he feared being long winded. "Therefore, I feel that there is a need for an elite squad much like your own. I have come today to not only see a Hazard Team in action, but also ask questions about the Hazard Team's role on your ship, their integration into your crew, training, equipment... the works. To be honest, I have never done anything like this before, and I was hoping to get some consultation from people with experience."

To Pete it sounded like a good idea, especially for a ship like the Galaxy. Pete had taken some time to go over the Galaxy's records and found that they hardly ever had a peaceful mission.

Arel Smith, who was currently fighting back a hunger headache and the irritation she felt with a few of her security officers for various reasons, grunted "What do you want to know?"

"For starters, ma'am, I would like to know about the integration of the Hazard Team into your crew. I was wondering if there were any role conflicts among the Hazard Team and Security departments."

T'Chani looked from Arel to Galaxy's Security Chief and back again, "There have never been any conflicts between the two departments that I know of."

"I also know of none," Pete said.

Rayna confirmed what the other two said, "That makes three of us. They do their thing, we do ours."

"'Commander Darion formerly commanded and was a member of the Ranger unit aboard the Miranda, before that department was absorbed by Starfleet into the Hazard Team program." the Captain clarified momentarily. "As such, she's quite experience with both sides of the line, having been a Starfleet tactical officer before that. Commanders Smith and O'Grady are consummate professionals as well, so it's provided for a smooth working relationship for all involved."

"I would also like to learn about the Hazard Team's role when they are not sent on missions. Do they return to their original departments until called to Hazard Team duty like on Enterprise or Voyager?"

"We've always been a separate entity from other departments. Hazard Team is our main duty. That doesn't mean we don't encourage cross taining for other skills because that does come in handy. Our duty isn't your typical Security or Tactical role as you already know. In short our capabilities exist because we're trained to handle a wide variety of tasks within the team."

"I know," Pete started, "that I also work with the Flight Control Department, taking shifts here and there when they need a fill in. I have also been known to work down on the flight deck as deck crew, again when they needed help."

"Ahhh... that's good." James nodded, "I was afraid of conflicting duty schedules. I'm sure my Captain wouldn't mind if I put the Hazard Team members on part time."

The Captain stood back then, allowing his officers to answer more of James' questions. He was prepared to step in if needed, of course, but these were all grown men and women, not Toryl and his friends. They didn't need him hovering.

"Oh my!" James light clicked on, "The exercise. Shall we?"

"This a straight forward seach and retrival exercise. The team has a general idea of where our missing officers are being held but no specifics beyond that. Intel gave us a building layout and estimated number of guards. We're trained to operate as a single unit or smaller two person teams if circumstances are suited for that kind of thing.. It helps if we can get solid information to work from but thats not always the case."

James was watching the whole exercise on the viewing monitors patched into the holodeck. The Hazard Team moved cautiously to their objective, one after the other, a fast moving chain where everyone's back was watched, all angles aimed and scanned. Their progress to the Captain and the First Officer (their holographic representations) was steady, briefly halted by holographic terrorists. None of the enemy had the fortitude or smarts to handle Hazard Team's advance.

"They're good. Cautious. Cover all angles. Their training is excellent." Galaxy's Chief of Security smiled, "We still use the Starfleet Marine Corp. training schedule left behind by our former Marine detatchment. Quite stringent; it drives the new recruits ragged. Tell me, how often does the Hazard Team train? Can you also tell me about their training regiment? If they also work with security during exercise hours?"

"To answer your question we train constantly. If its not keeping up with our weapons certifications, its medical, communications, engineering, or some other vital skill that may be required. Our training regiment is based off Marine and Ranger unit training. The big difference is we don't just stick with the conventional methods of getting things done," the Hazard Team CO replied.

James watched as he listened, observing Hazard Team as they picked apart the mission, dissecting it with surgical precision.

The equipment facinated him the most. Starfleet security hasn't been issued Hazard Team style uniforms. "I haven't been given the specs on the Hazard Team uniforms, but I have heard a few good reviews from Janes. Protection from hazardous environments, limited decompression protection with the optional helmet, small arms protection... they spared no expense. How have they worked for you guys so far?"

"They are quite useful. Our mission parameters require the team to work in a wide variety of environments. More often than not when were planetside we have duties that would stand up to standard security issue uniforms or equipment," T'Chani answered his question.

Corgan breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank god. Security officers have been demanding uniforms with better protection for years. I'd feel alot safer with the Hazard Team uniforms. We don't have the replicator pattern on our ship yet. Mind if we copy yours?"

"I don't see a problem with it," T'Chani replied, "Though thats not really my area of expertise."

"Thank you very much." James shook hands on the agreement, and added, "Any other unique equipment I should be aware of?"

T'Chani glanced in his direction, "I'd say that is a question that varies depending on our mission objectives. As a top notch unit Starfleet makes sure we have what's require to carry out or misison. Every member of the team is capable of handling a wide variety of weapons beyond the typical security loadout. If a mission requires specialized equipment that we don't already have on board we can solve that."

Down below, the Hazard Team closed in on the Captain and first officer. Meters away from enclosing Hazard Team commandoes, a group of five Naussican mercenaries held the high ranking officers at disruptor point. All adversaries were barking in loud tones, and generally confused. One was rapping at a communications device while carelessly waving his pistol; most likely the leader.

On the other side of the wall, Hazard Team stealthily parked beside the entrance of the room. One member crouched down and prepared a photonic stun grenade, while a combat engineer patched the door's encrypted controls into his tricorder. The squad leader sign languaged his engineer. The engineer waved him off, holding two fingers up, and pointing to the door. Two other members hovered over the man with the grenade, rifles raised, one ready to shoot through the entrance whilst the other watched the rear. A sixth member spied the other end of the corridor, keeping the team leader's back safe.

"They are good, sirs, ma'ams." Admitted Galaxy's security chief, nodding and whistling his approval, "It's going to be difficult getting to this calibre. I was thinking about making our Hazard Team strictly a volunteer force, to draw talent that is already on our ship. How did you guys recruit?"

"All of our team ended up on the Miranda same as any other Starfleet assignment. Background wise they all came from previous Ranger commands or fields condusive to honing their training for a Hazard Team position, like Security or in my case Tactical. We don't operate on a volunteer basis. While one can request a transfer to the team all of those are handled with just as much scrutiny."

"Do you think volunteers would be such a good idea?"

T'Chani looked at the others, "I'd say it really depends on the candidate's previous background. A lot of what we do can't be mastered in a single training session or even a few. Sure one can improve upon individual skills or how to use a weapon. Hazard Team requires a different mindset than most other jobs within the Fleet. Those that end up on the team have trained for it long before they ever end up here and have accepted all that goes with an assignment such as this one."

"Ahhh. I see." James hummed, seriously reconsidering his thoughts on requesting volunteers from the ship, "I know there are a few talented individuals on our ship that could qualify. Its just a matter of finding them. And since we're off to Breen, we won't be able to pick up any professionals until the mission is over. But I guess it couldn't hurt to find a few individuals on our ship with the right stuff."

Down in the holodeck, the Miranda Hazard Team was ready to strike. The man with the grenade waited patiently for the door hacker to give the thumbs up signal. The strike team tensed up, while on the other side of the wall the Naussicans were becoming increasingly argumentative. The Naussican with the gun to the Captain's head waved it off, trying to illustrate a point to his subordinates.

The door hacker pressed a button on his tricorder.

The grenade tosser threw the photon grenade between the cracks.

A bright flash of photonic energy pulsed through the door and flooded the room. The Naussicans, caught unaware, were flung aside like leaves in a maelstrom, finding the hard floors and furniture as their only cushion.

The flood of action afterwards was fast, even by Corgan's experience in starship boarding tactics. The Hazard Team phasered any Naussicans whom tried to resist, fireman carried the unconcious Captain and First Officer, and ran out while covering their escape.

"I'd like to thank you all again for this wonderful opportunity." James shook hands with each officer again, "If I have any more questions, i'll let you all know."

His final glance down at the holodeck was whistful and satisfactory. "Thanks to you guys, we'll have some very high standards to approach and surmount, but I have faith in the fact that we can do it. Again, thanks."

"No problem at all, James." Elaithin replied, walking out of the holodeck with the man who now had his old job.

"Graveyard Duel" pt III

ROGUES
Major Wes Hammond, Rogue One
Flight Officer Pikarr Ekrayn, Rogue Two
Major Joral Anton, Rogue XO/ Rogue Five
Flight Officer Jeffrey Clemons, Rogue Six
Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari, Rogue Seven
Major Rena Starburst, Three Flight Lead/ Rogue Nine
Major Veronique (Deuce) St Melisande, Flight Instructor - Rogue 10

VANGUARDS:
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Vanguard One
Pilot Kell Tainer, Vanguard Two
Flight Officer T'Shani "Forgehammer" A'Akledorian, Vanguard Three
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard XO/Vanguard Six
Pilot Heather Lewis, Vanguard Seven
Pilot Jackson Stone, Vanguard Eight
Lieutenant Kettch, Vanguard Ten
Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven
Pilot Voss Ferris, Vanguard Thirteen

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

Tish heard Jazz's call, but couldn't do too much, as she was on Rogue Seven, with 'Prophet' right beside her, trailing 'Five'.

The Andorian pilot keyed her mic: [Forgehammer...Prophet, nice to see you. Stay back, it looks like they're going to split. There's a nice Ritak'in freighter hulk at Mark zero-zero-five by zero-seven-four. That's where I'd go and hide.]

[I see it.] came the terse reply. Voss had already been playing through the various flight vectors in his head, but he knew that it would eventually come down to instinct and reaction times. Still, it never hurt to have some sort of plan. [How do you want to play it Forgehammer?]

[Waste 'Five', then get your ass on afterburner to the other end of that freighter. I'm gonna put a 'skinner' on 'Seven', copy?]

Voss nodded. [Copy that. Prophet going in...]

Chuckling in his cockpit, Joral keyed his comm to Medea. "They know where we're headed, Babe. Let 'em close, then whip into the superstructure. Don't lose my signal as you cut through. I'll see you on the other side."

Joral gunned over the freighter's dorsal main-brace, letting loose a single torpedo, knocking the main-brace loose, and giving his pursuer one more thing to dodge. He checked the ID on the craft following him: Vanguard Thirteen.

The Major raised his eyebrows. ~Thirteen? Superior craft and superior numbers. That hardly seems fair...~ It didn't help that at least three Rogues were already out of the fight.

Voss saw the incoming brace and ducked it easily, though with a bit of irritation. Even with full shields, an impact at these speeds could result in a nasty outcome.

Tish veered with Sinistrari, as Rogue Seven did - indeed - veer toward the hulk. It seemed 'Seven's pilot wasn't paying too much attention to the rear of her craft, as she tried to power-down and attach to the underside of the freighter's broken superstructure. Tish smiled, while immediately keying her full targeting sensors to 'ACTIVE', lighting Rogue Seven up like the proverbial Terran 'Christmas Tree'...

Almost as if with a sixth sense, Medea took off into the freighter, adjusting her systems for maximum speed and sensors.

In the midst of his run, Joral had abandoned the exterior skimming and dove into the structure of the freighter. Hopefully, Medea wouldn't be missing him too much when he pulled out. After all, the two of them had already pulled this trick inside a Borg Cube once.

He tipped his craft to starboard, gunning straight across the central axis, then doubling back through the main container brace section. By the time he had looped out and thrown all his systems to passive, Vanguard Thirteen had completely lost track of him.

Joral smirked, whipping his fighter back around to the point that he expected both Medea and Vanguard Three to come out... in theory, at any rate. Keying his comm, he called Medea: "Dammit, Dea, where the hell are you? I can't wait around here much longer..."

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

Upon hearing Vanguard Six's request for emergency, Veronique contacted the station, "Rogue 10 to SimCon: Vanguard Six is Dead, declaring Emergency. Avionics Sour. Requesting tow truck to home plate."

"SimCon to Rogue 10: Unable to get tow truck out. Hold hands with Vanguard Six. You're fighter is no longer under SimCon control." As the words were spoken, her avionics came on line. As she watched, she got a God's Eye from the Station, showing the last known location of Vanguard Six.

"Roger SimCon," confirmed Veronique as her craft barrel rolled so, she was heading towards Vanguard Six.

As the fighter was going through the maneuver, another communications came out from Simulation Control on the station. "SimCon to all units: Rogue 10 and Vanguard Six are no factor. Repeat they are no factor. Disengage on these units."

Vectoring in on Vanguard Six and with the God's Eye from the Station. It wasn't too long before Veronique matched velocities with the other fighter. "Vanguard Six, this is Rogue 10: You're saddled with me. We're holding hands to get you back to home plate. Follow me."

"I've got station-keeping thrusters only, Rogue Ten, it looks like this avionics job is an electrical failure. These things are too tied in with the ship, blow one thing and the whole damn unit's trashed. It'll be a slow job, but inertia should get me there, "Jasmine replied as she goosed her fighter to follow the Rogue. "Good flying out there, Ten. I was looking forward to 'killing' you."

"Slow and steady wins the race, Six. Maybe if the techs can get you back in the action, we'd find out the truth. Still round two to slug out," returned Veronique. It was almost four hundred clicks to the station. Transferring main reaction mass to the quads, Six would have plenty of fuel. Averaging about 1 m/s2, they'd get to the station in about nine hundred seconds. "Set the quads for full. Get to the station in about quarter of an hour. You got auto-pilot? Or we'll slave to my systems?"

"I don't trust my system as far as I can throw it right now, Ten. I'd prefer to slave to a system that we know is working right now," Jasmine replied glaring at her avionics displays for all the good it did.

"SimCon has given me codes, your systems are slaved. Sit back and relax, Six. Rogue Airways will get you home. Hell of a lot better than that Vanguard mob," quipped Veronique.

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

Wes Hammond came in silent, drifting along, attached to a piece of debris from an ancient Algolian Star Liner. The opulence of the old ship could still be seen in the rich appointment of the room that he saw through the viewport he was attached to. 'Starbuck' West had been an interesting challenge, but had proven unable to keep up during their chase and had tried to power down and ambush him on the way back in. Unfortunately, Hammond had been keeping his eyes on the sensors, and had done most of the ambushing.

Eyeing a new target, he noticed Vanguard 11 off on her own. Angelienia, the Ktarian, if his memorization of the rosters was correct. The trajectory was just right too. Unless something changed, the spinning debris would allow him to pop off of it and catch her from behind. Monitoring the passive sensors, he planned out the movements ahead couple steps into the duel.

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

Corran and Rena momentarily paused in their stare down as they heard Heloi's call. Rex was about to take himself out of the fight to tend to his Exec when he heard a Rogue pilot - St. Melisande - deal with it first.

Keying the comm - and keeping an eye on Rogue Nine - he set it for Jazz' fighter. "Jazz, you good?" he asked simply, verifying that she hadn't been injured.

["More than mildly irritating, Lead, but clear. Keep on having fun."] came the former actress' reply.

"Roger that. You have my permission to take St. Melisande and get the drinking started."

["Aye aye, sir."] was the sardonic reply, and the comm chirped signaling a signal close.

Then Starburst made her move. The Rogue's impulse engines gunned do full, and she made a straight run for Corran's Vanguard fighter. Grinning, the Trill responded in kind, his own, newer fighter picking up quicker speed - and again on a direct course.

The space between the two ships closed quickly as both remained on a collision course, each waiting to see if they other would move.

Neither did.

Until, at the last moment, Starburst swore, and whipped her fighter down, around, and under, nearly scraping the two hulls together. Bringing up in a loop behind Vanguard One - or trying too, as he was no longer in his previous position - Rena swore again. "You used to give." she said, trigger a comm to her target.

["Times change, Red."]

"You really are crazy."

["That's the rumor."] he replied as she spotted his impulse engines flaring as he skimmed the hull of a burnt-out Excelsior-Class hulk. "You want me, Red, come and get me."

"Graveyard Duel" - Part IV

ROGUES
Major Wes Hammond, Rogue One
Flight Officer Pikarr Ekrayn, Rogue Two
Major Joral Anton, Rogue XO/ Rogue Five
Flight Officer Jeffrey Clemons, Rogue Six
Lieutenant Medea Sinistrari, Rogue Seven
Major Rena Starburst, Three Flight Lead/ Rogue Nine
Major Veronique (Deuce) St Melisande, Flight Instructor - Rogue 10

VANGUARDS:
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Vanguard One
Pilot Kell Tainer, Vanguard Two
Flight Officer T'Shani "Forgehammer" A'Akledorian, Vanguard Three
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard XO/Vanguard Six
Pilot Heather Lewis, Vanguard Seven
Pilot Jackson Stone, Vanguard Eight
Lieutenant Kettch, Vanguard Ten
Flight Officer Angelienia, Vanguard Eleven
Pilot Voss Ferris, Vanguard Thirteen

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

The displays in Voss' cockpit flashed intermitenly, and highlighted the brooding Bajoran's face through the transparent faceplate of his helmet. He had pulled back and powered down to minimum levels again once Rogue Five has ducked into the superstructure of the freighter...there was no use in trying to follow the target when the target eventually had to poke it's head out.

Instead, Voss had pulled Vanguard Thirteen up and away from the freighter to take up a position amid some impulse engine components, with a 'bird's eye view' of the zone. Now he just waited and watched...particularly, he watched the background sub-space noise levels. He watched as the sub-space static bounced with each and every comm signal, and made note of positional data...

"<Rhooz>!" Tish swore, as she caught the flare of Sinistrari's fighter take off into the hulk of the old freighter. Then, beneath the reflective blast shield of her helmet.....she smiled.

Switching to the 'ALLCOMM' channel: "Rogue Seven, 'Forgehammer'. Your green ass is mine!" Followed quickly by: "'Forgehammer': Fire Two!" as a brace of pulse-cannon fire rippled through space toward the Rogue.

"And it's a sweet piece of green ass at that," Medea giggled back as she narrowly avoided the shots fired and wove through the freighter. It was just like the time with the weaving though the maze of Borg construct. Though at least here fear of assimilation and a lifetime in bad S & M gear wasn't a concern.

She clipped a bit of debris with a wing, but still was grinning widely and now starting to hum "Incense and Peppermints".

If you could have seen it, under her helmet, Tish actually arched an eyebrow. "Not bad, 'Seven'. Though, a little sloppy on your pitch-and-roll. Your *sweet* ass is still mine," Tish replied as she accellerated to pace Rogue Seven. ~Gh'oor, this girl isn't half-bad!~ Tish thought to herself as Vanguard Three tucked under a section of the old freighter's impulse system.

"It's smoother when it's involving greased up midgets on a trampoline.", Medea replied as she dove down a deck and swerved over a twisted beam.

Smiling, Joral brazenly popped off through the comm; "Sweetest ass I ever did see..."

The display on Voss' screen jumped again, and the normally impassive Bajoran allowed himself a little smile. He had Five's position. Ferris powered up his systems and brought Vanguard Thirteen out of it's cubby hole, into a lazy sweeping dive... Medea's more raucous laugh filled the commchannel. "These buns definitely don't need honeybutter."

A number of chuckles signified that Medea had indeed been heard.

Switching back to her 'private' channel with 'Prophet': "Thirteen, I see your position. Come around to these coordinates..." she *tagged* the postion of Rogue Five with her HUD's TEDD... "and do a back-pop on 'Five'. The get ready for a 'Squeeze Box' on 'Seven'. Got it?"

[Acknowledged.] was the only reply. Not very chatty this one...

Joral's eyebrows rose when he watched the two Vanguards change vectors, then went into a spin when he noticed Three ping him on active. Clearly, she was trying to give Thirteen something to shoot at. "Medea, they're gonna try to catch us in a pincer. Let's give them a chicken trade."

The phrase was one that Joral had coined for a maneuver that had been entirely accidental the first time he'd done it. So far, however, it had proved to be the best way for two fighters to shake their pursuers at the exact same time.

"Will do.", Medea said, her grin unseen.

The Major keyed the clamp release for his secondary driver-coil - he'd disconected it anyway. The damn thing never worked right.. It was about time that he used it for something useful. He turned his fighter's nose directly toward Medea, and the two of them headed at each other at top speed. In his aft display, Vanguard Thirteen had turned to follow him tightly. The Bajoran smiled... the closer the better. Meanwhile, Three was preparing to scorch his girlfriend's tail.

When he and Medea were almost on top of each other, Joral jettisoned the driver-coil and detonated it. With no actual fuel in it, the blast was harmless, but he wasn't trying to blow Thirteen out of the sky, after all. The exploding coil did, however, create a nice wall of flak, completely obscuring Thirteen's view of him - or more accurately, his view of Medea, who was plowing straight into the flak and would come out the other side with Thirteen in her sights.

Joral flipped his fighter over, skimming mere meters below Medea's, and popping out of her baffles, Vanguard Three lined perfectly in his sights - exactly where Forgehammer quite probably didn't want to be. Just as he let loose with full forward weapons, he keyed his comm to her.

"Hey Three: Tag. You're it."

With that, he depressed full triggers at her craft and peeled off.

<tag Forgehammer> As Joral predicted, Medea came out just where she did and with a near cackle, she fired away at Thirteen.

And Thirteen fired back...in fact, he accelerated and aimed the nose of his ship directly at the oncoming Rogue. Had anyone been able to see his face at that moment, they might have noted the complete lack of emotion, worthy of the most disciplined Vulcan...but this expression was more than just stoic, it was blank.

Voss filled the rapidly closing space between himself and Rogue Seven with simulated phaser fire, creating a rain of artificial energy in front of him, all the while vectoring his very real, un-simulated, and quite solid fighter at the Rogue...

Medea didn't budge from her vector, continuing to fire as Voss did with her. Of course they took each other out. They would have to have been blind to miss, and neither Medea nor Voss had any vision problems to speak of. The automated systems took over as each scored a kill, and the Rogue and Vanguard fighters powered down...

Had this been actual combat, Vanguard Thirteen and Rogue Seven would have collided in an explosive display of stubbornness, with neither pilot having the common sense to veer away. As it was the automated "lame duck" protocol automatically fired thrusters to station keeping to prevent the "dead" ships from inadvertently colliding with a piece of debris within the graveyard.

The sudden deceleration caused both pilots to lurch forward against the restraints that held them in place. Blue-white plasma vented against the fighter's inertia, and brought both ships to a standstill directly in front of each other. There was a crackle as the two shield systems brushed against each other...

Voss peered across the short distance between himself and Rogue Seven, and at the pilot within. With a rather cold grin, he gave her a salute...

Tish smiled, predetorially, underneath the blast shield of her helmet.Though the 'blow-up-the-DCA' trick had gotten 'Prophet' off of 'Five's tail, it had created a nicely-ionized region of space, just above her.Using RCS thrusters alone, she flipped and manuevered Vanguard Three into the blind-sensor region...

Twisting around after watching his shots at Vanguard Three hit their mark, Joral started scanning for Thirteen, preparing to finish the job. As his eyes skimmed the HUD, he noticed the small region surrounding what had once been his secondary driver-coil. It seemed that there had been a secondary effect of creating a sensor-blind. That would be perfect for hiding from Thirteen, simply waiting for the other Bajoran to fly past - assuming that Voss hadn't already thought of it. There was one way to find out.

The Major brought his fighter about, angling towards the sensor-blind. He never made it.

As soon as he had come about, he found himself face-to-face with someone who shouldn't have been there: the 'dead' Vanguard Three. He saw her weapons ports flash, and his instincts didn't let him down. His hands came down on the firing controls, letting loose on Three, and disabling her as he had intended to do the last time.

Of course, by then it was too late; Three's shot hit Joral's fighter dead-on, and the simulation computer shut him down. His voice, luckily, didn't carry in the void of space.

"DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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

Tyten had hung back and monitored the skirmish. Truthfully, he really hadn't been paying attention and he mentally scolded himself for that. Yesterday had been the anniversary of his being discovered by Starfleet Officers so many years ago. He knew that both Rex and Jasmine were going to chew on him for this. He just couldn't shake the empty feeling he had inside. What a time to have a mental breakdown, he chided himself. He watched on his monitor as Tish took out Rouge Five. He sighed. Everyone else was having fun, why couldn't he? It was time for this pity party of one to be over. He accelerated his fighter into the fray, looking for his first victim. ---------------

Major Starburst finally caught up with Lieutenant Rex as a chime sounded across all the fighter's comm units.

"Almost had me, Red." Corran said with a smile as he keyed the all-ship's comm. "Allright. All pilots back to dock, that's time. Everyone gets an hour R & R, then we'll meet back out here for Round Two. Good work, Vanguards - and you too, Rogues."

He didn't pay much attention to the chatter then. The pilots would all dock on the station, and spend the next hour regaling each other with stories from the faux fight they'd all just participated in. It would be worth a dozen training sims. Whichever squadron had won... Didn't really matter.

It was all in good fun.

Nonetheless, Corran still found himself tallying up the kills on both side. Just to harass Wes, he told himself.

"The Point"

by Cmdr. Jerri Wolfson
Chief Engineer,
USS Miranda

& Dr. Daniel Fraiser (PCC)
Temporal Astrophysicist,
Temporarily Assigned USS Miranda

---------

[Corridors of the USS Miranda]

As any engineer could testify, there was a certain 'feel' to every starship. Some ships were true ladies, as quiet as a whisper and as pristine as any lady's parlor. Others were the saucier kind, they could be quiet but mostly they liked to speak back to their engineers - just to make things interesting for all of them of course. Yet others were the fighters, it took a lot of dirt, grime, and elbow grease to get them to groan and give into their engineers' demands. The USS Miranda was a saucy lady, in the eyes of Jerri Wolfson.

The saucier ships would work one instant and the next choose to fight against the yolk. It made things interesting for engineers, and Jerri would always take a saucy starship any day of the week over a lady. The saucy ones would fight for survival - both for themselves and their crew.

The saucy ships were the ones that would come home.

The soft thrum of the main engines vibrated the deck under her standard issue boots. The feeling comforted her more than any sort of security blanket ever could - as long as that thrum existed, the Miranda was alive. With a small smile, Jerri gave into the urge to pat the bulkhead as she made her way through the corridors of the starship towards Main Engineering. The ship was running smoothly, efficiently, even at half strength with the crew shore leave rotations. Technically she was still on leave, but like most engineers she found it hard to stay away.

"Commander Wolfson?" a masculine voice asked from somewhere behind her.

Jerri turned, with the smile still evident as she turned to face someone whom she had never expected to see on the USS Miranda. Doctor Daniel Fraiser, temporal astrophysicist assigned to the Vulcan Science Academy, was also something far more insidious to her. He was the one who refused to leave her alone - insisting that he needed to speak with her about the past she still tried to forget. He was someone who tried to rip away the bandages around her soul to let the wounds continue to bleed and never heal.

"Doctor," she inclined her head slightly in greeting, but her tone was pure ice. He was not welcome here.

"You've been avoiding me, Jerri," Daniel smiled warmly at her, his eyes taking in her features and mentally comparing them to an image he had held in his mind for so long.

"Avoiding you?" she laughed, though there was no humor in her voice, "I believe it to be called avoiding when someone is stalking someone else. You wouldn't take no for an answer. You wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want to talk to you about the Chisholm, and I still don't."

"You can't keep denying your past, Jerri. Nor can you keep denying to talk to your own brother," Daniel replied, carefully gaging her reaction.

"Yes I...what?" the last word came out in a soft whisper as her expression reflected her shock. Surely not.

"Your brother," Fraiser repeated calmly - he really wasn't a bad man, he simply wanted to tell her the truth. The truth of her past, and the truth of his relationship with her. She had been avoiding him for years. Not anymore. "Or to be more accurate, your half brother. Your father is my father as well."

"You're lying..." Jerri said backing up slowly, refusing to believe her ears.

"Why should I lie? There's no benefit for me to lie, Jerri. But there's all the benefit for you. I know you've thought your father was a great man, but he really wasn't. He's only human, and...he fell in love with my mother. He was going to divorce your mother, Jerri. He wasn't happy, and then the Chisholm disappeared..."

"No," Jerri disagreed, shaking her head, "I don't believe you. I can't believe you. Leave me alone, Dr. Fraiser. I do not want to see you near me again." With trembling limbs, the Chief Engineer took what could only be called the cowards' way out. She left, first walking, then faster, and faster until it was a run.

She ran from Daniel Fraiser.

She ran from his words.

She ran from her past.

However, running would only suffice for so long. At some point, everything would catch up with her.

And it was that point that Jerri Wolfson found herself fearing the most.

((OOC: Takes place immediately after the Vanguard/Rogue training mission posts - Laurel))

"Deep Smit"

by Lt. Corran Rex
Vanguard Squadron CO

&
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi
Vanguard Squadron XO

------

Corran unzipped his jacket as he strolled into the Pilot's Lounge, a relatively unassuming name for one of the liveliest places on Starbase 212. Decorated rather garishly, the lounge was located right next to the largest shuttle and small craft bay the Starbase had.

Pilots of all types frequented it. Helm officers, starfighter pilots, freighter crews... it was an interesting place. Spotting various groups of Vanguards and Rogues, and saw Jasmine moving away from where she'd been talking to Major St. Melisande, the Rogue pilot who'd helped her in.

"Bad luck, that." the Trill said as he ambled up next to her.

Jasmine snorted in a rather unladylike way, "A thousand curses on the person who decided to install that Tellarite crap on our fighters. I didn't even get a chance to make a 'kill.' I'm going to have to send some sort of report into command. It's a damned good thing that didn't happen when I was in unfriendly space."

"One of the reasons I wanted a live test since they did those upgrades." the leader of vanguard Squadron replied. "I was hoping for a problem-free trial. Shoulda known better."

"Hah, no kidding. Were our test pilots drinking something when they gave Starfleet a go ahead on those installations? I swear that should have never gotten through - it's a good tactic that I used out there...and if it won't work because the avionics will die on us, that's a load of, well, crap. But I shouldn't be griping to you on this, you're practically the...what did they call it...choir."

Corran chuckled as he saw Jasmine's gaze linger slightly on something off over his shoulder. Following it, he saw her eying Major Wes Hammond, the commander of the Rogues.

Recognizing that particular brand of look, the Trill raised an eyebrow. "My dear Flight Officer, I do believe you are smitten."

"What?" Jasmine asked, blushing, "Corran!" She swatted his arm, "I am nothing of the sort. I'm just...admiring the scenery." She quite deliberately tore her gaze from Wes to look at the other pilots. Of course, she could not keep that charade up for long. Her gaze inevitably returned to Wes.

"Oh no. You've got it, alright. You're in deep smit." he teasingly laughed.

Jasmine just shook her head, smiling, "He's a very nice man." She told him, not quite including her thought that he was also a very nice *looking* man.

"He's a good man, too." Corran though, and then a thoughtful expression appeared on his face. "Snores though - we used to be roommates for awhile. And he's sort of arrogant. A little vain. Kind of snooty, too. "

"Oh really? And that makes him different from most fighter pilots...how?"

"Well. Not at all, now that I come to think of it. You're a little vain,arrogant and snooty, too, so you'd probably be well-matched."

"The feeling's mutual, Rex," Jazz grinned amiably as she swatted his arm once again.

"Yeah, but he's not my type." the Trill said, pantomiming like her swat had hurt. "Besides. I'm spoken for."

"I have a feeling Tara would have an issue if you decided to try something," Jasmine nodded, "So, Rex, you owe me a drink."

"I do indeed." the Trill replied. "You intending to collect tonight, or you going to go hit on your prince charming over there?"

"Actually, I'll have to take a rain check on that. I've got a dinner date to get to," Jasmine smiled, patting her superior's shoulder, "But have one on me tonight."

"Right then. Synthehol it is. I'm swearing off real liquor."

"Probably a wise decision," she nodded before heading towards the Rogue Squadron commander.

[BACKPOST]

"Why Fighter Pilots and Bars Do Not Always Mix"

Major Wes Hammond,
Rogue Squadron CO/Rogue 1

Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi,
Vanguard Squadron XO/Vanguard 5

*****

Jax's Dockside Bar & Grill,
Starbase 212

Jasmine Heloi twisted her hair out of the way and into a bun as she stepped inside Starbase 212's bar. She was dressed fairly casually that day, and she specifically attempted to downplay those assets that made her 'Starfire' and not simply Jazz, fighter jock.

She nodded at the bartender as she slid into an open stool and ordered an ale. It had been a long mission on the Galaxy and she needed the downtime, if only to escape Emmett Bregman's dynamic duo of a camera crew. The two just would not leave her alone. Sometime she wished she had never heard of Starfire. Shrugging slightly at her thoughts, Jasmine began sipping at her drink and regarding the pariphenalia on the back of the bar.

Wes Hammond nodded to the bartender as he walked into the bar. It had been a while since he'd been on base at 212. After all the stress he'd been through with the 'mirror' universe incident, he felt likt he needed to get off the Miranda for a spell and fly under the radar.

To that end, he was dressed casually. The only part of his uniform that he wore off-duty were his boots, pulled on over a pair of black trousers. Glancing over the occupants of the bar, he looked for somebody to talk to. Immediately passing over a tellarite merchant and a uniformed marine, Wes settled on an attractive redhead and walked over to sit down next to her. There was something about redheads that attracted him. Maybe it was the firey reputation they carried.

Jasmine looked up as the rather good looking human approached her. She offered him a slight smile before returning to her drink. She suspected that he wanted to talk to her either for a) her looks or b) because she was Starfire. If it was option b, she'd be out of this bar before the bartender could finish pouring her her next drink. Sometimes, like now, she was convinced that the burden of being a former starlet was not worth it. Especially when the show said starlet was on happened to be the most popular vid series to hit the Federation since Power Rangers: Redux.

Wes took the stool next to Jasmine, and waved the bartender over. "Morning, Jax," he said to the bartender, who he'd met once before. The bartender nodded his greetings. "The usual for me, and another one of whatever the lady's drinking for her." Wes cocked his head to the right to indicate Jasmine.

"Corvallis Brandy for you, Moulin Ale for the lady," Jax the bartender replied, setting out the glasses and starting to pour before Jazz had a chance to respond.

Jasmine turned towards her companion and arched a slender eyebrow, "You certainly didn't have to buy me another ale, sir. It wasn't necessary." Her musical contralto was warm in tone as she spoke, but she kept her eyes on him for any indication that he knew she was Starfire.

"I have credits to kill, and you certainly don't have to call me sir," he smiled, flashing a wide grin, "Wes Hammond, Rogue Squadron CO off the Miranda. And you might be?" She looked very familiar for some reason, but he couldn't place the face to a name. He suddenly hoped that she wasn't one of the women he'd left behind at various points in his life.

Jasmine smiled back at him, unknowing that it was one of her more famous smiles that she was using, "Then I really should be calling you sir, Major. I'm Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi, Vanguard Squadron XO off the Galaxy." Even though he didn't give his rank, she knew it all too well. How could she not when the Rogues were the top of the line in the fleet? Besides, she did have to admit that he had a very nice smile.

"Really?" he said, accepting his drink from the bartender and taking a sip, "Then we'll be training together soon. Lieutenant Rex contacted me a few days ago to talk about joint squadron training with the Rogues."

Then it hit him... Jasmine Heloi... that was a familiar name. "You wouldn't happen to be the same Jasmine Heloi that played Adora Starfire on the vids?" he asked casually. He'd seen them occassionally when he was at the academy in Tokyo.

PM): The first words that struck her mind were 'aw crap.' Definantly almost she nodded, "A lifetime ago, yes, that was me."

"They were fun, at least until season five," he said, noticing the subtle change in her features. She probably didn't like talking about it, he decided, and changed the subject, "But I didn't watch them very often. So you're out here flying fighters now?"

That was definitely a point in his favor when he changed the subject. "That's right," she said, perking up ever so slightly, "I always loved speed...so it only made sense that I turn flying into a second career."

"Career? Flying's too much fun to be called work," Wes laughed, "I think it's more of an adventure. That's certainly why I left Corvallis, where I was born." She was an adrenaline junkie. Definately a point in her favor. Well, and she was very attrative, even with her hair up, so two points.

"Corvallis, huh? I'm from Aduras, on Betazed. When you think of small town, Aduras should be one of the places to first come to mind. Racing was one of the only means to escape. And, of course, you're right. Flying *is* too much fun to be called a career. "

"Escaping. Yeah I know how that is. Corvallans tend to stay on Corvallis, and with my father being a local noble, that was even more true for me," he said, "I was lucky that my older brother broke the mold and joined Starfleet. He left a hole in people's expectations that my sister and I managed to escape through."

"Is your sister in Starfleet too?" Jasmine asked curiously, leaning against the counter. So, his father was a noble of some sort. Interesting.

"Kitty's a Tactics Specialist for the Phantom Hazard Team on the USS Relentless," he replied, "She was probably the biggest surprise for dad. He always thought of her as a perfect daughter. But I guess she didn't see life the same way he did, either."

Jasmine nodded, "I hear that's a good ship. How long have you been flying?" She took a sip of her second ale, feeling herself warming a little to her fellow fighter jock.

"I started learning in 2365, my freshman year of secondary school," he replied, feeling relaxed, "Went to the academy in 2369, and I've been flying for the fleet ever since. How about you?"

"I started as a kid on Betazed, when I was a teenager. Even when I was acting, I still enjoyed racing. I went to the Academy in 2373, and I've been flying in Starfleet since then as well. Mostly on the Dallas and the Galaxy."

"The Big D? No kidding," he said, "I trained with some people on the Dallas. Let's see, I've been all over the place. I started on the Concorde, then did a stint as the Starfleet Liaison to the border cutter Fern Prestwick, then served on the Typhoon, Relentless, Arizona, and Greencastle before I came to the Miranda."

Jasmine whistled thorugh her teeth, "You've certainly made the rounds. And now you're the CO of one of the best fighter units in the fleet. Not too shabby."

"No, I guess not," he smiled, "I certainly didn't think I'd be commanding it when the slot in Rogue Squadron came up. But then Lieutenant Commander Taalis and Commander O'Grady transferred, and I was given the job of replacing them. It's been an interesting process. You haven't done so badly yourself. I hear that the Vanguards are really getting whipped into shape."

"That's Corran for you. He's a harsh taskmaster," Jasmine replied with a slight grin, "He believes in the sim till you drop policy of training. Then going outside the ship and running through training games with your fighter and third power phasers. It's been quite the experience."

"Yeah, that is Corran," Wes laughed, remembering the Trill pilot, "But life isn't all flying... Well, it mostly is, but what do you like to do in your free time, when there is such a thing?"

"Painting, water skiing, white water rafting..." she ticked off the list on her fingers as she spoke, before looking at Wes, "And yourself?"

"Anything that'll get the blood pumping," he replied, noting that their interests matched up pretty well, "My current favorite is orbital skydiving, but I'm also a fan of kayaking and hiking. That and practicing with my guitar."

"Guitar, huh? I used to be in the Academy choir for a while, but I had to give it up when I started going for my pilot's license. I've never tried orbital skydiving before, though. How is it?"

"It's... a rush," he said, "You jump in an special envirosuit from just inside the atmosphere. It's not to be missed out on."

"Hmmm...that sounds like..." Before Jasmine could finish her response, she heard someone rustling up behind her. Suddenly, a hand was on her shoulder and her stool was spun around despite her protest.

"Shhhhtarfahr! Ah knew it wuz you," the obviously drunk human slurred, wobbling slightly, "Gimme a kiss, Shtarfar." And with that, the man had the nerve to actually kiss her.

Jasmine attempted to push him off, but it was not working. The man was too close, and too strong for her. Her muffled 'get off me' sounded more like 'umph git umpsh fff meee.'

"Hey, mister," Wes said, standing up. What the heck. Jasmine seemed a little overwhelmed, and he could never resist the urge to defend a lady in need. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he didn't get any responce.

~Oh well, gave him a fair chance,~ Wes thought, then grabbed the drunk by the shoulder and pulled him back, sputtering unintelligibly. Before he had a chance to do anything, Wes gave him a hard right hook to the jaw, sending him flying back onto a table which was, regretably, occupied by a group of Klingons.

With a roar, the Klingons stood as one and started towards Wes and Jasmine. Jazz, once she had overcome her shock at the drunken kiss, stood next to him. "Thanks for coming to the rescue, Wes." She loosened her stance as her eyes darted from Klingon to Klingon to see who would attack first. And, of course, the drunken Starfire fan decided to join the fray. "Are conversations with you always this...entertaining?" she said in an aside as the first fist started flying their way.

"I like to think so," Hammond said, and bent low to take one of the Klingons over his shoulder. The giant warrior was heavy, but Wes managed to throw him upside down against the bar behind him, though he didn't manage to duck a drunken right hook from the Starfire fan.

Jasmine ducked a punch and managed to throw her elbow into one of the Klingon's chests, "You're my kind of guy, Wes," she grunted as one of the Klingons managed to land a fist on her jaw. With a low growl, she launched herself at her attacker with a flurry of blows.

"If you wanted to mate, woman, you only had to ask!" the Klingon she was currently battling laughed heartily. Too late, she realized that to a Klingon a fight was a turn-on.

Sidestepping the drunken fan's next overextended, swing, Wes stepped in and punched the third Klingon square in the jaw, dropping into a boxing stance. It hardly phased the solid warrior, who launched himself at Wes and was rewarded with a sidestep that set him stumbling past into the warrior who had been thrown into the bar. "Glad to hear that, Jazz. Just give a shout if you need anything."

Jasmine launched a side kick at the drunken Starfire fan, sending him spinning into one of the Klingons that had been prepping to attack Wes. "You do the same, these guys really do like to play, don't they?" She used her palm to punch the Klingon who was directly in front of her in the nose, and with a burst of magenta blood the he collapsed.

It was, of course, that time when security decided to finally show up...

By then, the bar had erupted into total violence as the Starfire fan, in his drunked stupor, swung wildly at the other Wes, the other patrons, and anyone else around him.

"I think we should probably duck out of here before Security gets to us," Wes shouted to her, and tossed a couple strips of latinum to Jax, who caught them and then ducked back down behind his bar.

"Good idea," Jasmine nodded and she looked for some means of exit from the bar. Their choices seemed to be slim to none. "They aren't exactly being arbitrary about stunning people here. It doesn't look like there's much choice of how to get out of here. The front's covered. I don't know if there's a backway."

"There is," Wes said, and leaned over the bar, "Jax, the key to back would be nice." He dropped another strip of latinum next to the cowering bartender, who pointed to a drawer. Fishing around, Wes located the keys and pulled them out. "This way," he said, grabbing Jasmine's hand, and pulling her out of the way of one of the Klingons.

"Remind me to have you around the next time I get the urge to get into a bar fight," Jasmine quipped as they headed towards the door.

"Do you get those urges often," he asked glibly as he pulled her into the secret jeffries tube that lead out of the bar. Stuffing the key into his pocket, he started crawling. He'd give it back later. Jax knew he was good for it. It and the damage to the bar.

"Oh yes," she said as she crawled into the tube behind him, "It helps me meet interesting guys." Jasmine carefully sealed the hatch behind her and followed Wes. She actually didn't mind the view, and she smiled to herself at the thought.

"I suppose," he said, motioning for her to follow him to the right at a T shaped intersection, "That might be true if you consider that drunk interesting. Or did you mean me?" Humble? Okay, maybe not.

Jasmine laughed lightly, this one was definitely not the modest type. She decided she liked that. "I think I'll leave that, my dear Wes, to your imagination."

"Fair enough," he said. She was sassy and witty. He definately found that appealing. Not a sign of passive-aggressiveness or subservience. This was a woman who knew how to handle herself, and had handled herself well against the Klingons.

They came to an access hatch that lead out into a corridor somewhere a few decks below the bar. "Here's our stop."

Heloi smiled as the two exited from the tube, "You really do know how to show a girl a good time." She winced slightly as she scraped her hand against the side of the hatch.

"I like to tell myself that," he said, reaching for her hand, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just clumsy," she said as she held out her hand. The flesh had been cut, but mostly it was a minor wound.

"Ah. You'll be fine," he said, walking over to an access terminal, "This is a residential area. I'm sure there's an med station somewhere around here. There it is. Just a few corridors over."

"Yeah. Like I said, I was clumsy," she offered him a lopsided grin and a shrug. As they walked towards the med station, the Betazoid turned towards her companion with a serious expression on her face, "Thank you, by the way. For back there."

"Sure thing," he said, "I was honor bound to help you on two levels. Pilot to pilot. Gentleman to a very, very pretty lady. Anytime you need somebody to fend of the drunken fans, I'm your man."

"Hopefully I won't need you fight off drunken fans all the time. Though I would like to thank you, with dinner perhaps?" Jasmine certainly wasn't a shy woman when it came to what she wanted.

"If this is how you thank somebody, I should stick up for you more often. It sounds like a great idea. Your quarters or mine?" he asked. Now this was getting interesting.

Heloi smiled slightly when she caught the vibes coming off of him. "Actually, I was thinking my *ship.* Our Cantina serves a mean steak. Besides, after this station it is a great deal more...private not to mention calmer."

"The Cantina it is, then. After the joint training session tommorrow?" he asked. It seemed ideal after all. They'd have time to sound each other out on the field as well as off.

"That works for me," she smiled brightly, "I'll see you then, Wes." Boldly she reached up and kissed his cheek before she headed down the corridor towards the umbilical that connected the station to the Galaxy.

Wes watched her retreating figure, admiring it's smooth curves. Reaching up, he brushed his hand over his cheek. Now that was something you certainly didn't get from the everyday bar fight.

"Ghosts of Crewmates Past"

Captain Elaithin Jii,
Commanding Officer,
USS Miranda

Commander Felicia Khatroweena,
Chief Medical Officer,
USS Miranda

------------------- Main Sickbay, Deck Twenty Four, USS Miranda -------------------

Captain Elaithin departed the Hazard Team drill pleased that the team had performed so well in front of James. It made him proud of his crew to know that they were the type of people that other ships decided to model aspects of thier commands around.

But then, this was a crew, minus one or two people, to be proud of by and large.

As the Bajoran entered Sickbay, he still wondered why the Doctor had ordered this workup. True, the request for an appointment had come from Brooke, but the Captain had a security officer's distrust of medical personell. He knew Cat better, so he would see her.

Simple as that.

The Chief Medical Officer was behind her desk, and as usual for him, he let her know of his presence with a rap on the doorway. "I hear you want to poke, prod, and possibly extract some bodily fluids from me?" Jii asked, the customary half smile on his face.

"Jii, come in - this is a surprise," exclaimed Cat. She flicked the control on the padd on the reports she was reading. He might have been the Captain, but he wasn't a doctor. "As to the poke, prod and extract bodily fluids, yes I do Jii, or I should say, Doctor Brooke does."

"Be that as it may," he started to reply. "I'd rather have you do it. I've been to enough doctors in my Starfleet career that I prefer to keep with the ones I know well."

"Precautions, Jii, precautions. Especially with Jordan's pregnancy. I might be labouring the obvious, but you are Bajoran and Jordan is Terran."

"Really, I hadn't noticed."

The Caitian moved on as though he'd never spoken. "While genetically, you are compitable, there are things that have to be kept a close eye on. Especially for the babies' sake," Cat continued.

"Fair enough, Cat." was the reply after a moment's consideration. "Let's get this over with."

"Certainly Jii, another thing - If you could, it might be useful if you come in with Jordan. Doctor Brooke will be doing the same with her.

"Prophets." he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You just want me to spend all my time down here, don't you, Cat?"

Cat gave one of her closed mouth smiles and just nodded. She looked a bit more serious at Jii, "One last one..."

"Another one? You're not serious."

Cat nodded, "I have ordered testing on both Commander Smith and Commander Mitchell. Considering Commander Mitchell's stand on the paternal identity of Arel's child and his propensity to ignore people other than his 'august' self, I'd would like your support in making sure that Medical is able to execute it's duties and responsibilities."

"Of course." he said seriously, the topic having shifted to something that was never easy - namely, anything involving James. "If I have to have the two Brikars from Security carry him, he'll be here."

"Thank you Jii. You don't know how much."

As the examination began, Jii's expression grew thoughtful, something Cat had come to recognize in her Captain. As she began to take a series of skin and blood samples, "Jii? Latinum strip for your thoughts? she asked with a smile.

"I spoke to Price this morning, when I was having breakfast with Captain M'Kantu. - The new Captain on the Galaxy?" the Bajoran finally said.

"That's a name that's been bounced around for a few years," returned Cat.

"It was odd. He was trying to warn us about our next assignment. We'll be paired up with the Galaxy for this mission. He said it was something controversial, and he couldn't reveal it over an open broadcast. Admiral Ross will be here in a few days to brief Daren and I personally. It's something major. He gave me a hint, and I can't quite seem to figure it out."

"Ross coming all the way out here! Must be something really important. And something that Command is keeping very close to the chest. Hasn't been a squeak from Medical that was unusual. Could you sit up Jii?"

"I know. That's what's got me wondering." Jii said, sitting up as she instructed.

"What has you wondering?" she asked as Cat started to slowly traverse the MP over Jii's body.

"He said, "Say hi to Chris for me." I don't know if you know, but Chris Thomas became the XO, after Deiran Casey left the Galaxy."

"More names from the past," returned Cat. She looked at Jii, "It's sort of because of Deiran that you are here."

The Bajoran frowned. He hadn't much cared for Casey - the man had been a doddering self-important fool in the opinion of the at-the-time security officer. Thomas hadn't been much better. "How's that?"

"Miran, his wife - who was pregnant had severe complications and she lost the child. It was because I was reminded of that, I'm keeping a very close eye on Jordan and Arel."

"I remember that, now that you mention it." he replied quietly. He hadn't thought of the loss of Ti Miran's baby in... Years.

"So no real clues at all?" asked Cat.

"None." he replied

"We'll that is it, Jii. You can put your jacket back on." Cat turned to put the samples she took into the stands and sealed cases, to be taken to the lab. "You can escape now, but I want you to be here with Jordan."

"Of course. A temporary.. Reprieve..." he stopped, the word triggering something. A reprieve. Thomas had been granted a reprieve from being cashiered out of the fleet by being transferred to...

"Computer. Current assignment of Commander Christopher Kell Thomas?" the Captain asked, his head snapping up.

["Commander Christopher Kell Thomas is currently assigned to the Federation Embassy on Breen."] the computer replied helpfully.

The Captain and Chief Medical officer locked eyes. There it was: The Miranda and the Galaxy were going to Breen.

"Cat.." Jii started. "I think you're going to want your medical staff well prepared."

Cat gave a nod, "Last time I encountered the Breen, things did not go well. They are the sort that don't play well with others. Keep me informed, could you?"

Jii nodded as he headed out of Sickbay, the previous dealings with the Breen brought foreboding for the future.

"The Good Stuff"

Lt. Mark,
Counselor

CMC Gabriel Mahler

Some say old men has to rest a lot. Save their energy and all. Mahler would not have agreed with that statement. At times Mahler could be found in the bar, puffing away at a cigar and sipping whisky. Occasionally he would find himself a table, sit down and start reading one of his books. That was not resting. That, good friends, that was living.

Mark strode in smoking a cigar of his own. Living his own life as he saw fit. Right now, it fit him to get a drink to go with his smoke.

The old sailor could compete with a bloodhound when it came to cigarscents. He lowered his own cigar and looked up from his his book, an eyebrow slightly cocked. Davidhoff No 1. Someone onboard this hunk of junk had good taste.

Mark, not noticing Mahler yet, made his way to the bar where the two-headed tender took his order. The counselor leaned against the bar and looked around. He nodded a polite 'hello' to the other cigar smoker in the lounge.

He nodded in reply and put the cigar in the corner of his mouth, searching his book for where he left off. "Good choice, son... I'd recommend a earthy whisky with that.. "

Mark's eyebrows rose and fell once in delight, "My thinking exactly. Join me eh?" He turned to Zaphod, "Make that 'two' doubles my good men." He held is hand up making a 'v' with his first and second fingers.

The old man shrugged. "Why not?" He closed the book, grabbed the almost empty glass and walked over to the bar.

Zaphod brought the drinks and set them down in front of the gentlemen.

Mark turned to Mahler, "I'm Lieutenant Mark by the way. I don't believe we've met yet."

"Nice to meet you then, son.. " the old man replied and sat down. "I'm Mahler."

Mark smiled. "Son eh? Does that mean I can call you 'dad'?" He joked puffing his cigar and blowing an impressive smoke ring.

"Only if you want to spend the next ten years scrubbing the outside of the hull with a toothbrush." Mahler replied and discarded the empty glass. The severity of the words didn't match the somewhat amused look he had on his face.

Mark replied with an amused smirk and drank his own shot slowly. "You're the only other smoker I've seen on the ship. What are your favorite? I'm understandably curious."

"Depends on the occasion and what I'm drinking... but a Cusano Xlusivo is never wrong regardless the time of day." Mahler replied after a few seconds of contemplation.

Mark nodded in appreciation. "Those 'are' good. Lately I'm finding myself getting quite attached to the Trillian Roshettas Commander Jaxom has managed to get for me. Have you tried one?"

The Chief nodded. "Can't say they will ever be a favorite of mine.. I still maintain that the best cigars comes from Earth. It's a shame the Red Dot Cohibas are so hard to come by these days. I'm running out."

Mark 'hmmmed' once. "I think I have one or two in my stash I'd be willing to trade," he mentioned with his eyebrows rising and falling conspiratorilly a few times.

"For what?" Mahler asked, not about to pass up an opportunity to get his hands on one of those babies.

"What have ya got," Mark asked with his eyebrows still animated.

Mahler chuckled. It was nice to be recognized for once. He nodded discreetly to Zaphod. "Two Lagavulin, ice and water on the side." That meant from Mahler's personal stash, which partly was kept in the bar. Mahler couldn't stand the fabricated whisky, and ever so often a bottle of single malt found its way into his hand in exchange for a favor.

Mark nodded once again, "Ahhhh, gettin' out the good shit for the negotiations eh?"

"Watch your mouth, son.. this is older than you are.. " Mahler chuckled again. He waited until Zaphod had served them the drinks. Helping himself to the new whisky he leaned back in the chair. "Been on this boat long?"

Mark looked confused for a moment. He really never had a good sense of time. He counted his fingers then glanced to Mahler with an almost, but not quite, confused expressoin. "A few months I guess."

The Chief noticed the confused expression and filed the information in his mind. "Ah.. then you must have signed on while I was resigned from Starfleet."

Mark pointed at the chief with his fore finger, "Yes, that's right!" Then the counselor's brow knitted, "You were resigned? Why come back may I ask?" Surely the older man could have retired comfortably. Mark was looking forward to it himself... someday.

Mahler shrugged. "A little disagreement between me and Starfleet. All in the past now." he explained, not going into detail just what had made him quit. Having to deal with the death of his only son had just been one of the reasons. "Besides, someone had to keep an eye on this sorry excuse of a crew."

Mark's lips puckered at the comment. His eyes shifted warily. "They are ... rather immature at times ... ya think?" he asked in a lower voice.

"At times?" the old man replied, not caring at all if someone heard him. He wasn't really upset with it. It had proved to be a refreshing change from the powergames at Starfleet Headquarters. "This will be my last tour.. after this I will retire for good... but I plan to teach this crew a thing or two."

"INdeed!" Mark agreed. He raised his glass for a toast, "To this confounded crew, may they learn something new!"

"I'll toast to that, son.."the old man grinned, but only took the tiniest of sips from his glass. "Where did you serve before coming here then?"

Mark's face fell a tiny bit. "My last posting was Starbase One." His gaze went to a spot on the bar in front of him. "I was on vacation when it was .. hit."

The old man only nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that.. we lost a lot of good people that day." Did they ever? Men and women that would take a long time to replace.

Mark had lost everyone he knew. "Indeed," he replied solemnly. At that time, that posting was his whole life. "To lost loved ones," he rose his glass once more.

"To abscent friends." the Chief replied with a thick voice. So many people. He hated that toast. There was no harder toast to make and that was just what made it so important.

There was a moment of silence just after they downed their respective whiskies.

Not wanting to end the conversation on a sad note, Mark perked up with, "Now, about what you wanted to trade for those Red Dot Cohibas ...."

"A Friend Perhaps?"

by
Cmdr. Rayna O'Grady
AS/TO
USS Miranda

&
Dr. Janelle Reynolds
CMO
USS Galaxy

Rayna, after the meeting about the Hazard Team, had gone home to get a nap in before the kids came home. She still didn't sleep good at night even with the sleep meds given to her. Her body was becoming resistant to them. She'd have to talk to Shinta's husband about getting something stronger but in the mean time, she'd take short naps.

Rayna noticed a message waiting for her. It read, "You're a good officer. Sorry for being a bitch."

Here was a person she was trying to ignore since she was expecting a baby. Rayna had to admit to herself that she hadn't made things easy for Arel but dang it, it hurt to see anyone pregnant and happy. Rayna missed her husband and even though spending time with her children was great, she still couldn't stop thinking what it would have been like with one more child...another boy maybe?

Rayna was going to reply but her door chime went offf. Rayna opened the door and looked at this woman standing in her door way. Rayna sort of recognized her but couldn't remember from where.

"Can I help you?" Rayna stood there, looking drained. Janelle explained where they met. It now registered in hermind, "Come in. Where are my manners ?"

Janelle walked in and sat down, "I didn't mean to intrude but I wanted to say hi. I thought that this would be a good time to catch up since we were here."

Rayna nodded, "Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, thank you."

Rayna handed her a drink and they started to talk. Janelle told her about how she liked the Galaxy. Rayna nodded, "I used to be on the Galaxy. Sometimes, I wish I never left."

"Want to talk about it?" Janelle could see that there was something wrong. Rayna didn't look right.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Okay, well..." Rayna told her about her woes. Janelle felt bad now for intruding.

"Are you under care of a physician now?" Janelle was very concerned.

"I have one I'm seeing. Why, are you offering your services?"

Janelle smiled, "Sorry, it's the doctor in me. What can I say?"

They continued to talk. Time seemed to pass quickly. Janelle told her about the loss of her twin sister.

Janelle stood up, "I am really sorry about your luck but trust me, things will get easier as time passes. After all, it's only been less than three months. I'm talking from experience. Let's keep in touch, okay? And if you need anything, let me know, even if it is just to talk. That's okay too."

Rayna shook her head. A tear rolled off the side of her eye and down the side of her face, "Thank you. I don't have many friends."

"Well, then I guess this trip wasn't for nothing. I've made a friend too. I don't have many of them either."

They hugged and Janelle left. Rayna sat down and cried. She seemed to do a lot of that lately...even after all the time that has passed.

"Unexpected, Part II"

Lieutenant JG Mack Turner
Engineering Officer,
USS Miranda

Captain Samuel Turner
CO: SFMC "Hellhounds"
(7th Co., 4th Div.)

San'X Turner
Civilian

----------

=^= USS REPUBLIC (NCC-95097), Deck 4: SFMC Captain Turner's Quarters =^=

"So then! The Vulcan looks at the Ferengi, the Andorian, and the Orion, and says: 'What you are attempting is anatomically impossible'!"

Mack and Sam both started howling, at that.

"You're kidding, Sam!"

"No, I'm not! And he said it like it was the most *normal* thing that had ever happened in the entire universe!" Sam's face turned beet-red, as he clutched at his sides, trying to catch his breath.

"So, what happened, then?" Mack urged-on, while trying to catch his *own* breath.

"Well, they hauled them all off, on charges of public indecency. Even thought the Ferengi was whining that it was all part of some venture-business *experiment*, or whatever. They couldn't separate the Andorian and the Orion, however, and the transporters were down...so they just dragged them to the brig, as they were."

Mack started laughing again, imagining *that* picture, while Sam continued: "I guess, from what Sorek said, it took Medical almost seven *hours* to separate them!"

Mack burst out laughing again, just as San'X entered the room. Smiling, "They should have had a Deltan along. At least *we* know how to do that sort of thing correctly," she smiled impishly, while trying to waddle her way to the couch.

"That you do, Babe," Sam smiled devilishly, as he helped his pregnant wife sit down on the padded sofa.

"Ooof, I'm afraid Jan'X is getting a little too big for me," she commented off-hand, while kissing Sam as she got comfortable.

"Great dinner, San'X. You should have roped Sam into helping you," Mack motioned to his brother.

Sam held up his hands, in defense. "You know me, bro': I can't cook."

"Besides," San'X interjected, "I *like* to cook. Even with the little stinker kicking me, all the time." she gently patted her tummy.

"How much longer, until he's ready?" Mack asked while eying San'X's massively-pregnant belly.

"Well, the doctors say only a week or two, at the most. And good-riddance!" she exclaimed, good-natured.

"So, Mack," Sam spoke-up, "since you *missed* the wedding..."

"Hey! It wasn't *my* fault guys!" Mack laughed, good-natured.

Sam waved his concern off. "...you must at *least* stay to see your nephew born! Besides," Sam turned, and took the PADD from his wife, "Mom, Dad, and Sammy are all going to be here. As well as Grandpa Allen and Great-Grandpa Riley, if he can make it," Sam's smile spread at the look of astonishment on Mack's face.

"Th..they're all coming *here*? To the starbase?"

"Yep."

"Alright!" Mack exclaimed, while pumping his fist. This was great! He hadn't seen any of his family in-person since he had originally embarked on the Miranda, one year ago.

"So, you'll be staying, then?" San'X asked, expectantly.

"As long as the Miranda's in port, you betcha!"

"Good...great!" Sam smiled, as he jovially slapped his 'little' brother on the back.

"So Mack," San'X asked slyly, "any chance of a Missus Jonathan Turner, in the future?" she smiled.

Mack blushed bright-red, while trying to hide the fact with his hands. Quickly, he thought of all that had happened in the last year: Aria...well, she left. Though, rumor had it that she was transferring back to the Miranda. Janeen...what *were* he and Janeen? He pondered *that*. In the almost six months it had taken them to get from the Great Barrier to Starbase 212, their relationship had seemingly cooled-off. Not that they didn't still like each other...it was just that they had begun to realize that they were better-off as friends, rather than lovers. Besides, she was planning on enlisting with Starfleet, within the next month or so, unless Jaal could talk her out of it. Mack had figured it would be better to just simply let her *go* and live her own life; she was so young and vibrant and had alot of living to do. He didn't want to hold her back from that.

~Good question; I wish I knew!~ he thought, as he began shaking his head...

"Mack? What's wrong?" San'X asked.

"Oh...nothing San'X. Nothing. To answer your question: I've got a snowball's chance in hell that I'll find 'The One'," he mimicked quotes in the air with his fingers, "anytime soon."

"That bad, eh?" Sam chimed in, after which San'X deftly threw a pillow at her husband's head.

"Gee, thanks for the moral support, bro'!" Mack tried to sound hurt, but couldn't help but grin. He really was enjoying himself, even if Sam was sometimes not real 'bright' on the comments.

Changing the subject: "So, how's it like to be the Captain of Seventh Company? And on an Excalibur-class, no-less!"

"One word, little brother: 'paperwork'. *Endless* paperwork!" He mocked insanity as San'X and Mack both laughed.

"And *you* wanted to be the Captain, eh? Make Great-Grandpa real proud an' all," Mack ribbed, good-natured.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mack. It's just that these damned...*kids*...God! I was *never* that immature!"

Mack almost burst out laughing, but San'X beat him to the punch: "Ha! Deeeeear," she cooed, innocently, "wasn't it *you* who rigged the Lieutenant's sonic shower spray chocolate mousse all over him?"

Sam blushed.

"And what about the time you rigged the computer to play 'Sexy Thing in Leather' whenever that hottie - Sargent McCormick stepped into the staging area?" Mack added.

San'X raised her eyebrow.

Sam shot Mack a dirty glare.

Mack smiled, all-teeth.

"Point taken. But they're *still* a bunch of immature runts.

"Perhaps," Mack conceded. "They just need some TLC," he mimicked; making fun of his brother.

"Oh, shut up, Mack," Sam shot back, while laughing.

[Operations to Lieutenant Turner.]

Mack's head shot up. That was strange. Why would the Republic's Ops department be contacting *him*? He shot an 'I don't know' look to Sam and San'X, before hitting his commbadge.

"Lieutenant Turner here, ma'am."

[Lieutenant Turner, we've received notice from your ship's Operation Department that you have a priority message from the ASDB at Utopia Planitia.]

Mack's eyebrows shot up at that remark. "Will you please patch it through to Captain Turner's quarters, ma'am?"

[Sending now. Ops out.]

Mack quickly stood, while looking over to Sam, "Sam, do you mind?" he asked as he motioned to the computer terminal on Sam's desk.

"No, no...go ahead, Mack," Sam replied, now standing. Though he was curious as to what would cause a 'priority' message from the ASDB - Mack's old 'stomping-grounds' - he didn't want to pry. Helping his wife to her feet, he waved to Mack, and they both retreated to their bedroom.

Mack watched them leave, and then situated himself behind Sam's desk, clearing away the PADD clutter, to activate the computer monitor.

-----------

PRIORITY MESSAGE FOR LIEUTENANT (JG) JONATHAN MAYS TURNER (JR) - USS MIRANDA (NCC-77000-B). REDIRECT TO USS REPUBLIC (NCC-95097). IDENTITY VERIFICATION REQUIRED.

----------

Mack keyed his clearance code, as well as his biometric scan. A moment later, the ASDB seal flashed on the screen, followed by a text message.

Mack began reading...

~Holy...~

Was this real? ~Do they really...?~ His mind wandered at the possibilities that the message implied. And they wanted *him*? He looked at the authenticating signature:

::SIGNED DOCTOR NYOTA ARMSTRONG, ASDB ADVANCED PROJECTS LIAISON::

~Well,~ he thought, as he closed and sent the message to his *own* Inbox on the Miranda, before deleting it, ~This is certainly *Unexpected*...~

"Greetings"
Lt. James Edward
Counselor

'Aw what a wonderful view.' Edward thought to himself. He stood in his quarters looking out the window as he waiting to meet his roommate. He peered around the room and by the looks of it he as been on the ship for some time. The room was full of 'stuff'. Edward didn't find any of it to interesting, it was basically just stuff. Bottle caps, pens, strange looking rocks. Then something caught his eye. An object flickered in the light from the desk lamp. He started to make his way over to see what it was, but before he could get good look the door chimed.

Edward jumped a bit before answering the door.

A tall brown headed Ltjg. appeared in the door. He was holding a couple of padds in one hand and a folded up duffle bag in the other. As he spoke, a strong english ascent shot threw.

"Aye, you must be my new roomy. Great! I heard I would be having some company, but not so soon. You must have come aboard just as we docked to the station." The slightly older man smiled, lifted his eyebrows and stepped in walking past Edward toward the rear of the cabin.

"That would be me, I have been onboard for only a few hours, mainly been looking around. Stopped by to see the Chief Counselor as well."

"Aw, you got a problem or something lad?"

"Problem? Oh no" Edward grinned at the comment. "I'm a counselor myself. Was asked to check in as I came aboard."

"Aw, great, they got me bunkin' with a shrink now have they." The man stood back up after peaking under the bunk looking for something. He unfolded the duffle back he was carying and opened it up. "Nah, I'm just missin with you mate. Anyways, if you don't mind holding off unpacking for a bit I will clean this place up. Like I said, your early." The man started to move around the bunk picking stuff up as Edward leaned on the door.

"Well, take your time. i'll got get me something to eat. If you get done pretty quick you're welcome to join me." Edward smiled and turned toward the door as it slid open. "Oh, I put my bag on the top bunk since it was made up. I figured that was the one not being used. My name is James Edward by the way, but you can drop the formalities and call me Jim."

"Aye mate, William Ekir, but most my everyone calls me Bill. And I might just take you up on that offer, this shouldn't take me to long."

"Great, I'll see you in the mess hall. Umm, ask the computer where I am I might end up on the other side of the ship." Edward grinned and headed out of the cabin.

"The one with the lizard"

Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander K. Jordan Elaithin

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

She met her husband in front of the exotic pets store on the promenade. He was staring through the glass at a large lizard like creature with transparent eyes and bright red zig-zags across his body.

"That's one weird lookin' thing," Jordan stated, laughing as she kissed him hello with a quick peck to the lips. "We're not getting one, so you can just forget about it now. It would probably kill Bronte, and the kitty was there first."

"Oh, I don't know." Elaithin replied, his head tilted slightly as he tried to follow the creatures movements. "The two of them might just confuse each other."

"It'll give me nightmares," she said. "Come on, we have to find you some new shoes, remember? Not a new pet."

"Still not entirely clear why we couldn't simply replicate shoes." he replied. He was wearing an outfit that he knew Jordan hated - a set of brown pants, black shirt, and a light brown jacket. Mainly, he was doing it so he could walk around the base without junior officers getting nervous around a Captain.

That fourth pip tended to attract attention he didn't want right now. Though he had to admit, tweaking his wife with his wardrobe choices was a guilty pleasure.

"Because whenever I let you replicate something, you come up with a monstrosity like *that* outfit. I will be burning it when you change back into your uniform, you know. I'm going to forbid you from wearing the color brown, for good." She drew a deep breath. "And purchased shoes are just better. The last longer, they look better, are far more comfortable, and shopping for them humors me and makes me happy, okay? Besides; I've already shopped for myself twice since we got here and the bug's not gone yet, and, Toryl has already refused to go with me, not that he's much fun anyway." She drew another deep breath and held it as she hung on his arm while the walked down the promenade, people bustling around them, show windows glowing. "Did you talk to Cat? Is something wrong with the babies? Did she say that there was something wrong, Jii? I need to know."

"Whoa." he replied, raising his arms in surrender. "Down, girl. No, nothings wrong with the babies. Cat said that I check out fine, though I need to come back a couple more times. She just wants to be careful."

"What's it all about though?" she asked, leaning closer to him. "It didn't say anything, just that I needed to come in for further testing because of a risk to the pregnancy. Jii, that scared the hell out of me." She wrinkled her nose. "James Brooke needs to learn better tact."

Jii smiled softly at that. "Years ago, back on the Galaxy. A long time before you came aboard, when cat was the CMO there, there was a human-Bajoran couple. That birth had complications, and the child was stillborn. That's the only reason Cat's concerned."

Jordan covered her mouth with her hand and seemed to crumple a little bit. "You don't think that will happen, do you? That won't happen to us, will it?" she asked. "It can be prevented, right? Cat can make sure it won't, right?"

Laying a hand on her shoulder, he squeezed slightly. "It'll be fine, Jordan. I promise."

She nodded. "Okay," she said. "So, have they told you anything about the mission to Breen? I had my formal intelligence briefing on it earlier today."

"Just that the C-In-C will be giving hs breifing to myself and M'Kantu personally." Elaithin replied.

Looking around cautiously, Jii noted that they were rather isolated in thier current position. "Did you get anything specific?"

"No, not really," Jordan said. "Things on that front are a little, well... not too good, I guess. Thomas, who's in charge of Intel at the embassy is a little, well, a bit of a mess it seems, so, we're still trying to get everything figured out exactly. I was just told that we were going to be headed there, with the Galaxy." They had stopped walking and she'd dropped her husband's arm, was hugging her own arms around her body. "Uhm, you know what, Jii, I don't... I don't really feel like shopping anymore, hon, I'm sorry... we should... I should probably go and just make sure, you know, get it over with: the scans and everything. Don't want to take a risk. The earlier the better, right? With things like this."

"Alright then." he replied., wondering if she'd be this paranoid during the entire pregnancy. "You shouldn't worry so much, you know."

"I can't help it," she said softly, "I want this more than I've ever wanted anything, and I don't want something to go wrong-- especially if I could have prevented it, you know?"

"I know."

"And hey, it gets you out of having to shop," she said, offering a meak smile.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, strolling casually back to the Miranda's docking port. After deciding that enough quiet has passed, Jii not so subtly changed the topic. "So. When's this thing with you and Jerri going to end?"

Jordan shrugged, leaning against him again. "When it ends, I guess," Jordan said, "soon, I hope. I miss her."

"You can't just hope for it too, Jordan." he replied. "One of you's got to break down and do something about it."

He'd been trying to play peacemaker between the two for months, to no avail. To be honest, it was getting a bit annoying. "I've never seen two people in the Galaxy that were better friends. Friends fight sometimes. You should both just get the hell over it."

"I know, I know," she said, "I'm working on it. But I'm no more ready to be the adult here than she is, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, tough." he replied.

"Jii, please, just stay out of it," she said, "we'll solve it on out own time, forcing us into it will make it worse. I appreciate your concern, I'm sure Jerri does too, but... we'll get it taken care of. I promise. It'll work out."

"That or I'll have Security lock you in a room." he replied, and suddenly felt almost like whistling. That seemed like a grand idea.

"Well. Hopefully in won't come to that," Jordan said as they rounded the corner toward sickbay. She stopped a minute. "Do you think it would hurt Doctor Brooke's feelings too much if I were to tell him I'd prefer a female doctor?" Jordan murmured, then sighed. "Well. Shall we then?"

"Let's"

"Galaxy, Rock City"

Starring
Zeke Wikkins, the USS Galaxy's Amish Security officer

and long time NPC Leo Streely

Location: Holodeck 4, USS GALAXY

"Brother Streely, is it nessicary for thee to lay thy hands upon me in such a fashion? I have been uncomfortable with having my buttocks manhandled for some time now." Zeke Wikkins asked, as he shuffled gingerly through the pitch black arena.

Behind him, Leo Streely - one time Galaxy security deputy, super stud, and trouble maker extrodinaire' - pushed the giant, Amish born officer through the chanting crowd towards the front of an enormous stage - the only structure that could vaguely be seen through the inky blackness and machine generated fog.

"Hey, don't get too friendly, pal! You're not the first person to feel the magic these hands can create. Please try to restrain yourself, OK? Let's just get to our seats before the show starts. You're gonna love this! It's one of my favorite programs!" the little man called out from behind Wikkins.

The duo squeezed through a throng of unseen bodies and in moments found their seats adjacent to the diaz before them.

Zeke sat in his chair and folded his thick hands on his lap. Leo practically choked on his own tongue.

"What?!?!? What are you doing?!?!"

"I am waiting for the beginning of this event thy have prodded me into bearing witness to." Wikkins replied matter of factly.

"WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! First I NEVER, I repeat NEVER prodded you in any way stud. What do you think I am, a friend of Sandsky or something? Secondly I wanted to help you unwind after that whole HammertimeLAgear mess we just went through and make up for that whole steel chair to the head thing in the tournament." Leo said, flailing his arms in the dark.

"Thirdly...YOU DON'T SIT DOWN AT A CONCERT!"

"Who not?" Zeke asked calmly.

"YA JUST DON'T, OK?!?! TRUST ME!"

"Then why are there chairs?"

"WHAT ARE YOU SOME KINDA WISE GUY?!?!" Leo asked, feeling his chest hair beginning to curl.

"No. I am Amish." the hulking security officer replied.

"GGGGAAAAAARCCGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!! Look, just stand up and get ready!" Leo said as the neon purple lights behind the stage lit up. "OOOOH OOOHHH! Its about to start now!" he said furiously patting Zeke's forearm.

Smoke began to billow more heavily now. Strobe lights flickered and an announcers voice boomed over an unseen speaker.

[LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!!! YOU WANTED THE BEST YOU GOT THE BEST!!! THE HOTTEST ROCK BAND IN THE WORLD.....KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

At that prompt, the whole arena shook with a massive explosion. Giant balls of flames flew through the air. The heat threatening to singe Zeke's eyebrows. His mind set on rescuing as many of the people he could from the disaster at hand, he spun wildly around and looked at the grinning Leo.

"Relax, kid. It's all part of the show! Watch! There they are!!" Streely screamed and pointed at the stage.

Through a cascade of sparks shadowy figure behind a drum set could be seen descending from the heavens. His every strike of the drumstick seemed to rumble through the arena like thunder - revertabrating through Zeke's very chest.

As soon as the drumset hit the stage, three figures exploded from the ground itself and the lights kicked in to accompany the thunderous guitar rifts.

Wikkins stared in horror, his heart nearly stopping in his chest.

There before the him on the stage stood four demons from hell's very bowel - covered in leather and chains with spikes protruding from everywhere. He staggered backwards crossing himself as the man with a star branded over his eye began to wail into a microphone.

"LORD IN HEAVEN!! PROTECT ME!!" Zeke screamed as he staggered backwards, nearly toppling over his seat.

Leo shook his sweaty head. "YEAH! GREAT, AIN'T THEY!!!"

The Amish officer looked once more at the stage to see a giant of a man in heeled boots resembling grinning skulls grinding away on what appeared to be a giant axe with his leathery wings.

The demon's mouth opened and blood poured out followed by a snakelike tongue.

His heart beating so loudly that he couldn't even hear the music, Zeke turned to Leo only to finally be able to see that the crowd he was standing in was comprised of thousands of naked, oily, twenty year old women who were gyrating and writhing wildly about. Streely was smack dab in the middle of the debauchery. His face was painted like the demon on the stage and his eyes were glued to the nipples that kept poking him in the side of his head.

Wikkins began to hypervenelate. "G..G..G..G...G...G" he struggled to get out.

"Groupies, baby! Wait till you go behind the stage after the show for "The Show" if you catch my drift!" Leo said with a grin that would have to be surgically removed.

"AR..AR..AR..AR..AR" the massive security officer began to pant.

"Are they real? Hell no! But who doesn't like a little silicone? Right girls?" the little man asked to the giggling groupies mesmerized by the fire breathing guitar player onstage.

"AR..AR..ARCH!!! ARCH!! ARCH!!" Zeke called out. On command, the control arch of the holodeck replaced the crowd to his immediate right and the hulking Amish man bolted out into the safety of the Galaxy's hallways.

A confused Leo sauntered out after him. "What? What?!" he asked the Amish man who was now gasping on his hands and knees.

"Sodom..Sodom..and..Gamoreah.." he spat.

"WHAT?!?! WHAT KIND OF PERVERT ARE YOU?? BEGGING FOR SODOMY?? AND MORE ?!?! I TOLD YA ONCE WHILE I'M FLATTERED, I AINT INTO THAT KINDA LOVIN'."

A perky redheaded Ensign walked past them eying them warily. "I'll give YOU something more, babe." Leo said seductively, his tongue flickering from his painted mouth like the singer in the holodeck.

Zeke got to his feet, crossed himself and ran for the confines of his quarters leaving Leo to himself.

"What did I do?"

"Speculation."
By Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander Brex

Captain Elaithin Jii had abandoned his uniform this afternoon, for a set of workout shorts and a comfortably loose t-shirt that had 'Property of Starfleet Academy' printed across the front of it. Before him was a holodeck on Starbase 212, with a program Captain Westmoreland had suggested he'd try.

Pulling on a fingerless set of traction gloves, Jii waited for his companion to arrive. They had business to discuss. And aside from the recreational benefits, a holodeck was actually a rather secure location, safe from any sorts of prying eyes.

The Holodeck doors parted with what seemed to be a loud 'clunk' as they disappeared in to the walls - then followed by another 'clunk' as they closed behind the Bolian. Like Jii the first officer had opted for something more functional than a duty uniform - the outfit almost skin-tight to avoid snagging on jagged rocks.

Cat had been right - Brex had put on a few extra pounds these last few weeks. Maybe it was Jordan's family receipe for chocolate cake, or just that he had relaxed his exercise regimen somewhat. Either way the Bolian was feeling a little self-conscious - not that it really showed (he had maintained a relatively toned physique).

"So what are we tackling today?" the blue-skinned humanoid said. "Mount Death ... or something other death-defying peak from which no one can return."

Naturally he WAS joking.

"Something close," Jii replied to his exec, "According to Captain Westmoreland at least. He tells me it's something of a tradition for Starfleet Captain's. A recreation of a cliff face in Earth's Yellowstone Park, called 'El Capitan.'"

Taking a long look up at the rock face in front of him, Jii grinned. "I have to admit, I like the name."

"Complete with a sense of irony I would imagine," Commander Brex said as he looked up the rather large cliff face at the distant peak.

"Well then. " Jii replied, breathing out. "Let's get started."

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

For the first half of the climb, they chatted about idle things. Ship's gossip and the like, minor personell issues, things of no great import.

When they had reached the midpoint, they came to a ledge that was wide enough for them to sit and take a momentary break on. "Brex. Let's stop and have a seat for a moment. Some water would be good."

The Bolian sat down on the ledge. Overlooking the holographic recreation of Yellowstone National Park, in the region of Wyoming, he could not yet but forget that he was on a starship light years away from the real locale. But only for a moment.

"Now THAT sounds like a plan." Brex responded as he removed his small backpack. Fishing out a small cannister of water from it the five-foot-eleven man turned to Elaithin as he opened it. "What's on your mind?"

Brex was no counselor, and definitely not a Betazoid, but he knew how to read body language - something was obviously on Jii's mind.

"Our leave is getting cut short." Jii said without preamble after taking a sip of water. "Admiral Price contacted Captain M'Kantu and myself. Admiral Ross will be here in a few days to give us a detailed briefing."

"Oh," the first officer merely said in response. After giving it a little thought he nodded to himself. "The Commander-and-Chief of Starfleet doesn't just drop by for a visit. Whatever it is .. it sounds big. Especially if they're calling in the Miranda and the Galaxy."

"We're going to Breen." the Bajoran finally replied. "It took Cat to help me figure out the General's clue, but that's where we're going. I just don't know why yet."

"The Breen, like the Cardassians, were bound by the Dominion surrender on Deep Space Nine a few years back," the blue-skinned Starfleet officer pointed out. After a few moments Brex turned to Elaithin. "What does your gut instinct tell you?"

"My gut tells me that whatever it is isn't going to be pretty. It could be something as simple as extracting the Embassy's staff. But I don't trust the Breen any more than I'd like to wear one of thier environment suits."

"We've had border disputes and various minor engagements ever since the end of the War. So if we're going to Breen itself... then why? And why only send two ships?"

"Extracting the embassy staff sounds plausible. I think if we were engaging in a military act there would be something more substantial involved ... like the entire Sixth Fleet or something similar," Brex hypothesized. "Or, given the fact that Admiral Ross is involved, we're forcing the removal of a staffmember or officially closing the embassy. In that case two ships would make sense." After a little more thought Brex added, "They gave you no indication at all?"

"The Admiral said all he could." Jii replied after a moments thought, revewing the conversation. "He said there was controversy, and it couldn't be said on an open channel - or even a secure one."

"I don't like mysteries, Brex."

"Normally I would disagree with you sir. What is it the Romulans say ..." the Bolian said, trying to remember something he heard back during the Dominion War, "oh that's right, " he said with the snap of his fingers, "never turn your back on a Breen."

Elaithin chuckled at that. "I'd rather not turn by backs on them. I'd rather train every phaser and torpedo I've got available and make them do the running."

"Perhaps not the wisest thing to do while in Breen space," Brex added with a smile.

"Well." he said after a nod. "We'll just have to see then. Ready to finish this climb?"

Placing his cannister back in the backpack the Bolian nodded. "Sounds good to me."

off: backpost, occurs before Shinta's talk with Mahler

"Books, Talk, and Tuna"

Arel
Shinta
Gavin

****

Arel sat on the floor of Shinta's quarters valiently trying to understand a book on Bajoran, rituals, culture, and history before her. So far she wasn't having much luck and she grunted in annoyance and pushed the book aside."What a pain in the ass."

"It's not." Gavin said at the same time his mother said "I agree." Mother and son looked at each other. Arel looked at both Shinta and Gavin in mild amusement.

"All right it isn't." Shinta grumbled. "Your baby has a right to know about both cultures, and if Mitchell is not going to be around it has to come from you."

Arel frowned down at the book, for once wanting to complain about the lack of pictures. "Can you go through the major ceremonies again? I keep forgetting one, I know it, and this stupid book doesn't seem to have it."

"Don't try to learn everything by heart." Shinta said. "Just focus on some of the big things. And relax!"

The security officer nodded and then patted her stomach. Korvin was playing soccer again."Pipe down." She said quietly with a little smile.

"Sorry?" Gavin had been looking at the book and thought she was talking to him.

"The baby's kicking." Arel told Gavin.

"Cool." He smiled. "Mommy always let me touch when they were kicking."

That kind of threw her. "Oh. Okay." She let Gavin feel her stomach.

"Did you know that we have a Bajoran priest on board?" Shinta asked. "He can be a great help as well."

"No, I didn't." Arel said with a frown. "He's not going to, er, preach at me, right?" The last thing she wanted was some holy man telling her the sins of a child out of wedlock or some crap like that. She never liked beating upon spiritual leaders; their followers took it so personally.

"No, Ariss is very laid-back. He's helping me a great deal." She said with confidence. "He understands."

"As in Ariss of Security?" Arel asked. "How interesting. I wouldn't have pegged him for clergy."

She tossed aside the book and sighed. Arel looked around at Shinta's group of children, not for the first time. "I dont know how you do it."

"Just love them, and don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Don't forget that I raised Gavin alone for the first five years of his life, I know what it's like."

Arel nodded again and then turned the page in her book. She wasn't so sure that she'd be the supermom that she had decided Shinta was but she could love her son. "So when do they get that earring thing?"

"Actually its something you get from your family, and every family has different design. I could find out for you what Mitchell's is."

"Forget it." Arel said. "If it's not something his father gives him, it wont mean anything. Besides *I'm* going to give Korvin a bat'leth. See if he wants some old earring after that. By the way, why don't you have one?"

"That's... that has to do with my past."

"Oh." Arel said and let the matter drop. She didn't want to bring up any bad memories. At least not yet. "I think Korvin and I will end up making our own customs. I never was a terrible fan of some of the Klingon cermonies they have. Of course, I'll let him do the important ones, although the pain sticks are awfully, well, painful." She didn't like the idea of her baby growing up and then letting some moron shock the crap out of him with a painstick, even if it was tradition. She could tell that raising a baby would just be another one of those balancing between cultures that had made up most of her life. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling, Shinta."

"That's OK and it makes sense. You have to do that with a mixed baby. Have done that with my kids."

"You focused completely on the human side until recently." Gavin said and watched his mother blush.

"You know what's so nice about not raising a child on Qo'nos?" Arel said out of the blue. "We don't have to eat the food."

"I quite like Klingon food, especially fresh gagh. When I worked as a drill instructor together with the Klingon team we used to have it every Friday night, delicious."

Arel shuddered. "I've eaten every Klingon course ever invented and so far nothing has tasted good."

"I really don't understand that. You want to be Klingon and you don't like the food.

"It's a quirk." Arel growled. Truthfully, she had always hated Klingon food. She could eat it but she disliked it. "You know what sounds good? Jordan's brownies. And a tunafish sandwich."

Shinta pulled a face. "I think I prefer gagh."

Arel thought the sandwich was sounding better with each passing moment. "Hey, Kid. You wanna go replicate a tunafish sandwich for me?"

"Sure." He said and left.

"So," Arel said quietly now that Gavin was gone. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She smiled. "Very busy with work."

"You're sure?" The security officer asked, her tone implying that she would know if Shinta was lying.

"I'm very sure I'm busy, and you know I cannot tell you anything about it." Shinta said deadpan.

Arel narrowed her eyes. "No one likes a smartass, Shinta."

"I know." Her friend said softly.

"I'm here if you need to talk." Arel said.

"I can't. If I start crying now I will never stop. Too many little people depend on me."

Arel shook her head. "You'll stop. Go talk to Mark or at least Brooke. Gavin and I can watch the kids for awhile. You *know* I need the practice."

She smiled. "I'm not talking about watching for five minutes. I could seriously break down. I have seen it in enough patients, as soon as they finally let go... I always urge them to do it and when it comes to me it scares the shit out of me."

Arel could understand that. She usually tried to hold back tears and such until she exploded. And then she felt stupid afterward. In the long run, it was just easier to take it out on other people.

But Shinta was her friend so she would just have to be sneaky and pester Brooke or Mark herself.

"Allright Shinta." Arel said in a agreeable tone. "Thanks kid." She said to Gavin as he brought her back some lunch. "What? No mustard?"

"Trust..."

Principle Characters:
Fleet Admiral William Ross,
Commander-In-Chief,
Starfleet

Ambassador-General Natasha Mol,
Federation Liaison Corps

Captain Daren M'Kantu,
CO, USS Galaxy

Captain Elaithin Jii,
CO, USS Miranda

Commander Brex,
XO, USS Miranda

Commander Cass Henderson,
XO, USS Galaxy

Legate Kylar Curran,
Diplomatic Liaison, USS Galaxy

Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall,
Diplomatic Liaison, USS Miranda

----------------------- Deck 28, USS Miranda Primary Docking Port -----------------------

Captain Elaithin waited patiently at the gangplank for the arrival of Commander Brex and Legate Pryce-Randall. Having already contacted M'Kantu, he knew that this was the briefing they'd been forewarned about. The seriousness - and secrecy - surrounding whatever mission the starships Miranda and Galaxy were to be assigned was almost palpatable.

Made even more so by the fact that Fleet Admiral Bill Ross, the head of Starfleet, had arrived at Starbase 212 aboard his flagship, the Bellerophon, to give the briefing personally. That was a revelation itself to give one pause. The small Intrepid-class vessel was currently docked in the port between Miranda and Galaxy, seemingly dwarfed by both vessels, but sleek and powerful in it's own right. Voyager's success - hell, it's mere survival alone for seven years in the Delta Quadrant had proven that. Starfleet had put the small ships into full-blown mass production then, helping to ease out some of it's numbers thinned by the war. While ships such as the Pathfinder, Sovereign, and Galaxy classes took time to produce, the Intrepids, Akiras, and Defiants could be pounded out fairly quickly. Those smaller vessels likely had a great deal to do with why the Federation, in it's weakened state after the Dominion War, had not been overrun.

Ceasing his pacing, Elaithin leaned his forehead on his forearm, and awaited two of the people he trusted most in the entire universe. As he gazed out the window, he marveled at how it had taken Cat to figure out Price's warning. That "Say hi to Chris" had been a direct reference to where they would be going. Commander Christopher Thomas, former executive officer of the Galaxy while Jii had served aboard her, had been station as the Federation Embassy on Breen's commander of Starfleet Personnel. The Embassy was largely unused - with the state of current diplomatic relations with the Breen which were, too put it mildly, none too cozy, that particular Embassy had become a dumping ground for some of the 'Fleet's most inept personnel.

But what sort of assignment were they being sent on? If it was as controversial as the General had claimed, there was no telling. If he was taking his ship into hell - at least he'd be making the trip with many trusted friends this time, not to mention a whole starship. No covert assignment, this. Not with ships like the Miranda and the Galaxy. They were not what one would call.. Low-profile.

Abigail stepped up behind the captain of the Miranda. Relations between the two of them had smoothed out, given the initial awkwardness of her posting. She still was not completely comfortable in the presence of the Bajoran, and she suspected that he knew it. She never let it show, however, and controlled her face to let no emotions leak through.

"Captain Elaithin," she said. He did not turn at first, but kept staring out the window. Abigail didn't have to see his face to know that he wasn't necessarily staring at the view in front of him.

After a moment, he turned, and inclined his head to her. "Legate. How are you doing today?"

"I am fine, Captain. And you?" she inquired politely.

He inclined his head to her, in the universal way of acknowledging the question, saying that he is okay, but all without answering. "We're just waiting for Commander Brex to arrive, and then we can go."

She nodded at that, and came and stood beside him as he turned to look out the window again.

With a little more than fifty seconds to spare the Bolian first officer of the Starship Miranda came strolling down the corridor. Although it was his usual custom to arrive early to a meeting - especially with such dignified attendees - ship business had held him up longer than expected. Life on a starship rarely stood still for anything.

"Captain. Legate," Brex said as he reached the pair of them.

"Brex." Jii replied with a nod, tugging slightly on his uniform jacket. "Let's get this show on the road. I'd hate to keep the C-in-C waiting."

----------------------- Wardroom, Deck Six, Starbase 212 -----------------------

It felt somewhat odd to suddenly be re-assigned to pre-eminent diplomat status on the Galaxy, even if it is only temporary. The level of import this mission required must be serious indeed, for the Kelvan to be present at these proceedings.

His arrival at the wardroom on Starbase 212 was without fanfare, of course. With only a passing glance at the Galaxy Starfleet representatives upon entry, Kylar trod lightly to his designated seat and slipped into it, his features stoic even as he analyzed the situation as it stood. The Captain and XO had been as silent as he in the traversal to the briefing. He would watch, and wait to verify his re-activation.

Daren glanced at his companions once as they entered the conference room. Cassius appeared a little nervous, not an unexpected thing considering this would be his first briefing at this level. The Legate - Daren still found it odd that he seemed unable to think of the Kelvan as 'Kylar' or 'Curran,' instead of his job description - seemed as impassive as ever, although he suspected that there were currents moving below the Kelvan's surface that were anything but calm.

He settled into his chair with an air of long practice and set his PADD down on the desk. He knew that many officers used the log copies of meetings to refresh their memories, but he'd never gotten out of the habit of making his own notes in meetings. It helped to ground him and keep him focused on the issues at hand.

Cass Henderson was feeling a little bit queasy as he sat down at the conference table. This would be his first briefing with the C-in-C of Starfleet, and he was a bit apprehensive. Even the political contact that he'd developed with Fleet Admiral deMercereau over the years would be nothing compared to this.

He was suddenly grateful for his SFI contacts. Knowing that the mission would have to do with Breen gave him some small comfort, and he'd at least been able to research the current Starfleet and Liaison Corps personnel operating in that area, as well as border raiders. Armed with that knowledge, perhaps he would be able to contribute.

He'd also been surprised to find out that Lieutenant Commander Taryn Dalheimer was working as the Strategic Operations Officer at Breen Sector Command on SB 73. Dalheimer and he had last seen each other when she'd come aboard during the Orion incident to help the JAG Corps sort out the issue. He found himself wondering if he'd have the opportunity to talk to her. Old flames burned out slowly, and it would be a welcome change from the worry he was feeling over Pennington's disappearance.

Captain Elaithin entered the room in silence, flanked on both sides by Commander Brex and Legate Pryce-Randall. The Wardroom on Starbase 212 was a standard Starfleet affair - not altogether too different from the Briefing Lounge on either Galaxy or Miranda, though slightly larger. There was also a large UFP flag mounted in the corner, to the side of the large LCARS display terminal.

They found Captain M'Kantu and his group already there and seated at the table, and took their seats opposite those of their equivalents from the Galaxy.

"Daren." Elaithin said by way of greeting as they sat.

"Jii," Daren nodded pleasantly. "I don't think you've met my XO, Commander Cassius Henderson, and my Diplomatic Officer, Legate Kylar Curran," He indicated each in turn.

The Bajoran nodded his greeting to each of the two, and then introduced the pair with him. "Commander Brex, my exec, and Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall, my own Diplomatic Officer. I understand she's a colleague of yours, Legate Curran?"

The Kelvan nodded his head slightly in courtesy. Pryce-Randall had already informed him of the Miranda CO's identity and initial profile. Had he been given sufficient warning of this high-level briefing, he would have been more prepared for the officers who'd arrived. Nevertheless, he steepled his fingers upon the glass table they gathered upon. The sterile environment of the mooring docks glittered their bland lighting down the curvature. If he stood, he might get a view of the ugly third nacelle rising like a tumor out of Galaxy's secondary hull.

Contentedly, he could not see it.

Being that the Galaxy and Miranda were the two largest and modern ships currently moored at the Starbase, it was obvious this meeting would be requiring the best Starfleet had to offer. It was understandable the Kelvan was then re-activated. His superior intellect was obviously needed, of course.

Two security officers entered the room without preamble then, taking up position by the doors. This of course, had the intended effect of drawing everyone's attention. Centuries of tradition had their purpose, after all. One of them piped a bosun's whistle, after which the other spoke. "Gentleman and lady, the C-In-C."

"...and the Lack Thereof"

Principle Characters:
Fleet Admiral William Ross,
Commander-In-Chief,
Starfleet

Ambassador-General Natasha Mol,
Federation Liaison Corps

Captain Daren M'Kantu,
CO, USS Galaxy

Captain Elaithin Jii,
CO, USS Miranda

Commander Brex,
XO, USS Miranda

Commander Cass Henderson,
XO, USS Galaxy

Legate Kylar Curran,
Diplomatic Liaison, USS Galaxy

Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall,
Diplomatic Liaison, USS Miranda

----------------------- Wardroom, Deck Six, Starbase 212 -----------------------

Two security officers entered the room without preamble then, taking up position by the doors. This of course, had the intended effect of drawing everyone's attention. Centuries of tradition had their purpose, after all. One of them piped a bosun's whistle, after which the other spoke. "Gentleman and lady, the C-In-C."

All six rose out of respect then as Fleet Admiral Bill Ross, Commander of Starfleet since shortly after the end of the Dominion War, entered. "As you were," he said in his customarily level tone. His step moved with a surety of purpose that Jii had found many Admirals lacked. But then, one didn't become the Commander of Starfleet without a certain amount of self-confidence.

Accompanying him was Ambassador-General Natasha Mol, the head of the Federation Liaison Corps - and Curran and Pryce-Randall's boss, to put it succinctly. Jii's eyes met with Brex as the Bajoran raised an eyebrow. It seemed that the Bolian's suspicions may have been more in line than his Captain's, if Mol was here.

"Everyone, thank you for coming." Ross said, still standing at the end of the table. "I'll put this as simply as I can. The Breen have contacted us, requesting a formal cease fire, the resolution of disputed borders, and the formal opening of full-on diplomatic relations."

"Interesting," Daren observed. "To offer after all this time since the end of the War? Did they offer a reason as to the timing - or do you have one, whether they offered it or not?"

Curran refrained from raising a brow in the matter of Vulcans. It was a nasty habit he wished he could alleviate, but human forms were so uncontrollable.

"They had attempted to open negotiations with the current Federation representative on Breen." Ambassador-General Natasha Mol in person was more diminutive than her conversations made her out to be. Curran had pictured her as bold, and somewhat taller than he'd initially envisioned. Instead, she stood at just over a meter and a half. Her eyes, as icy blue over a terminal, were also of a crystalline sharpness that had that confident edge to it. Her light blonde hair still retained the curls at the edges, but was mostly tied up in a tail at the back. She almost seemed schoolgirl-ish.

Admiral Ross imparted the floor to her as she came to the forefront.

"I'm sure some of you are aware, though, of the policies Starfleet has had in delegating less-than-capable personnel to Breen."

"We never had reason to believe anything of import would happen anytime soon there." Ross chimed in, a look of resignation bearing across his features. "The Breen have always been... Intractable."

"It would seem that assumption was mistaken." Jii observed, stating what seemed obvious. The remark gained him a small look from the Admiral, something that caused the Bajoran to chuckle slightly. He was forever trying to inject humor into situations that didn't seem to call for it. He hadn't broken the habit as an Ensign, and he certainly didn't give a damn now that he was a Captain.

"The Breen gave grown... exasperated at the current ambassadorial administration, and requested delegates of a more sober capacity. We hardly thought the Breen were serious in their intentions, until contacting us directly." Mol reported, bringing everyone's attention back to her.

Commander Brex smiled slightly - that had been one of the scenarios he and Captain Elaithin had speculated on.

"What do we know about their intentions?" Daren interjected. "Anything firm? Or are we just blindly hoping that they're sincere in this offer?"

The Admiral sighed in frustration then. "Put simply... We don't know. They say they want peace. A formal treaty with them, not just the one they were bound to at the end of the War. But there's very little trust on this side of the table... And I can't imagine it's any different on their side."

"With respect then, Admiral," Captain Elaithin spoke up, "Why are we even listening?"

Brex dipped his head slightly as he considered Jii's opinion on Breen-Federation negotiations. While the Bolian, like others in the room, obviously could not deny that some harbored apprehension over such diplomatic contact, it seemed unlike the Bajoran to be closed minded. Elaithin had, after all, assisted in negotiating a peace with, and between, the Romulan Star Empire and the Reman Ascendancy.

"Because we can't take the chance that this is a genuine offer, and pass up on it. The Hawk faction is chomping at the bit over this one. And I have to admit that a treaty with the Breen would be a political victory for the.... Less aggressive members of the council," the Ambassador-General supplied.

Daren frowned. "Making this more of a political issue than it would be even ordinarily. Wonderful."

"Be that as it may," Ross interrupted, "This is just something we can't pass up on, and we certainly can't leave to the embassy staff on Breen. That's why we've picked the two of you. Captain Elaithin, you had remarkable - if unconventional - success in engineering the Treaty of Galvanis between the Federation, the Romulan Empire, and the Reman Ascendancy. The Federation Council wants you to lead the diplomatic team, consisting of yourself, Legates Curran and Pryce-Randall, and whatever support staff you deem necessary. The Miranda is no slouch as a ship, so that explains her presence. We don't want to send just one ship, however, and that's where the Galaxy comes in. Captain M'Kantu, you're the more experienced commander here, so we'll want you to be keeping an eye on all Starfleet personnel in system. Both of your vessels are not unknown, both in the Federation and out of it. We're thinking that if anyone's going to try anything they might think twice about going up against the Galaxy and the Miranda under your commands."

Commander Brex cleared his throat as he straightened his posture a little in the chair. "Excuse me Admiral," the Bolian began, raising his hand slightly. "I don't wish to sound pessimistic, but what if the Breen should open fire on one or both vessels?"

The question was a 'worse case scenario'. While Brex did not have serious doubts about the motives of Breen - with the amount of distrust between the two governments they only needed one trigger-happy Breen commander to take a pot-shot to begin a conflict. Since there was a risk, it was a question the Bolian felt needed to be asked (similar to approaching or crossing the Romulan Border).

"I'm interested in that as well," Daren nodded. "Are we going to be hamstrung by uncertain rules of engagement and then crucified by one faction or the other when we, inevitably, fail to do whatever they see as 'the right thing' despite no clear direction as to what that is?" He steepled his fingers and waited for a reply, watching Ross closely.

"Should that occur, your first priority will be yourselves. Bear in mind that you will have support. Admiral deMercereau and the 12th Fleet - a full hundred and twelve starships - will not be far from the border, technically "on maneuvers." Ross replied.

Elaithin smiled slightly at that. 'On maneuvers' was a centuries old term meaning 'ready for a fight'. The Federation was not going into this blindly. "This is being left to our discretion, then?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Technically.." Ross led "Yes. I don't have to tell any of you how important this is. So if things go south and you've got any opportunity at all to salvage them, I'd suggest you take it. We live in precarious times."

Cassius nodded. This was an unexpected turn of events as the current scheme of galactic politics went. And the Dove faction was turning it into a tour de force for their side, showing off their largest ships and fleet, as well as their highest profile personnel; Mol, Price, and deMercereau.

Which, bearing in mind Brex's 'worst case scenario', could mean either a triumph or an ignominious thrashing for the Doves. "Pardon me, Ambassador-General," Cass asked, "Is there any chance of third parties becoming involved? Since we don't know the motivation of the Breen in coming forward, we can't rule out the possibility that we might be competing with other governments for the treaty."

"There are always third parties competing for the treaty, Mr. Henderson." She tilted her attention towards Curran and Pryce-Randall, silent during the proceedings. Mostly because of the discussion of military tactics, most likely; their job was not the here and now, it was down the line. M'Kantu and Elaithin would get them there however they could. Their jobs were to broker the peace. A difficult enough task as it was without having to keep a wary eye on the command crew.

"If however the Breen are negotiating treaties with other organizations or governments, it could very well be in our best interests, as well. Legates Curran and Pryce-Randall will also be negotiating for information exchanges. The Federation in of itself can offer quite the bargain. Access to the Breen computer cores can be an Intelligence coup for all of us." She paused to let the data sink in.

"There are many unknowns in this endeavor, ladies and gentlemen. This request for diplomatic relations cannot be ignored, though. The Breen are one of the last great powers that the Hawk faction base their arguments for a more militant stance on. It is a risk, yes, but this is why Admiral Ross has assembled his fleet. If, by some lack of intelligence has informed us that you encounter resistance, the 12th fleet will come to your assistance without delay. We've lost enough ships and crew during the Dominion War - not to mention conflicts with the Breen, the T'Kith'Kin and a myriad of other races. We can ill afford to lose you and your crews. You are the best we have. Do not let your pride get in the way here. At the first sign of trouble, you are to break off negotiations and rendezvous with the 12th fleet."

Daren nodded. "Understood."

"All pertinent files regarding the Breen have been forwarded to your intelligence officers. If there are no further questions, then I with you and your crews Godspeed. Recall your crews, you depart immediately." the Admiral finished, leaving a PADD each with Elaithin and M'Kantu. "Good luck, Captains."

"I think we'll need it, sir." Elaithin commented quietly.

The C-in-C pivoted on his heel then, and with much less fanfare than his entrance, departed the room.

"Well," Daren said after Ross had departed, "I don't know about your crew, Jii, but I think I can predict the reaction that *mine* is going to have when the recall signal hits. How long to get all of your people back?"

Elaithin and Brex shared a quick glance. "One hour, maybe two." The Bajoran replied.

"Sir," Cass said, turning to face his commanding officer, "We can have our entire crew back onboard and our resupply completed in two hours, provided we double the cargo bay shifts and nobody drags their feet."

"If they were the sort of people that would drag their feet, then they wouldn't be on the Galaxy, Number One," Daren replied. "Send the recall, double the shifts, and check with the station to make certain we don't have any newly arriving crew that haven't arrived or reported aboard yet. Anyone that can't make your deadline will require reassignment or quarters to wait for our return."

"Aye, sir," Cass replied, and began to use his PADD to form new duty shifts for the operations crewmen that were loading their resupply. He drew additional personnel from tactical and security to make up the new double shift roster.

"We'll do the same." Elaithin said, standing as Brex and Pryce-Randall did as well. "I'll speak to you in two hours, Captain."

"Agreed." M'Kantu replied. "Let's get underway."

"Waterworld" (SB212)

Commander Brex - First Officer

Lieutenant (JG) Ariss Edon - Security/Tactical Officer

Ensign Imanol Harinordoquy - Hazard Team

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Imanol was sleeping off a bit of a hangover when Ariss popped his head into the bedroom and made the cheerful announcement.

"Delivery for Imanol Harinordoquy."

Groaning Imanol begrudgingly got up and pressed his confirmation code into the computer on their main desk. Within seconds two very large containers materialised in the middle of their living area.

"What in the name of the Prophets is all this?" enquired Ariss.

"Its an aquarium." Replied Imanol who seemed a little annoyed that it hadn't already come assembled. "Fire up the welders, we've got some work to do"

Looking at the two large containers with some amusement, Ariss nodded as Imanol walked back into his room. Setting the gamma welders to preheat themselves, he dug out his tool kit as well, just in case, then grabbed a powerpry and started working on the lids.

...

Having showered and changed into work cloths Imanol was feeling fresh again and even a little excited. He would have been a little more if the instructions hadn't come in Pakled, a language so stupid most Pakleds couldn't even read it. Anyway Ariss was quite the self-proclaimed engineer so it should have been no problem.

"Flimplast instruction sheets?" Ariss muttered with some incredulity. Looking at the Pakled text, he thought dark thoughts about salespeople, Ferengi, and duplicitous people in general. "Well, at least there's pictures." Picking up a support beam, he started trying to sort out the contents of the boxes.

"There's no aquatic life forms in either of these boxes, is there?" Ariss asked, "Y'know, free samples, anything you brought. Something that needs immediate care?" Lifting out a small piece of metal, he eyed it critically, "Do you think this is supposed to be bent?" he asked.

Holding up the instructions Imanol proceeded to match the piece with its corresponding drawing. "Their all in the cargo bay in special containers" After being prompted several times Imanol reluctantly turned the manual right side up. "Oh right.." he grumbled taking another moment to examine the text. "That's a spare". He shrugged his shoulders and rummaged through the rest of the contents.

Imanol lifted a large piece of glass from the container. Supposedly it was made from the finest glass in all the Federation. Apparently 'as unbreakable as the Enterprises very own port holes' - to quote the shifty eyed Ferengi. He mounted one piece on top of the other and signalled Ariss over.

Bringing the gamma welder up to the join, Ariss activated it. A faint greenish glow surrounded the point of the welder, touching it to the join, he slowly worked the welder down, bonding the surfaces together. "Just out of curiosity," he asked, "How big is this tank?"

Looking at the size of the containers Imanol concluded that it was "pretty big". It didn't take long for Ariss to emerge with a satisfied grin on his face. "Okay now grab that black thingy and stick it in that thingy with the hole in it" instructed the Hazard officer.

"Such technical descriptions," Ariss muttered, "You should be an engineer!"

...

Imanol sat at the table rummaging through one of the containers, cussing as his hand got jammed between two large sheets of metal. His cheeks mimicked the colour of his hand as the blunted metal grinded off his wrist. "I think I'm stuck" he admitted.

Holding two support bars, Ariss stood there, immobile, with a confused look on his face. Unless you're an expert on multidimensional geometry, he couldn't see how it fitted together? Turning to Imanol, he just raised an eyebrow.

Imanol struggled to free his arm. "Just weld it," he ventured a little preoccupied with his swelling arm. He finally pulled it free of the container, catching hold of another strange device on his way up. The black metal clamped around his forearm. "This is a death trap" he groaned.

"Agreed." Ariss said, busily trying to unwrap some kefnium coil that had inexplicably appeared and wrapped itself round his feet. "By the.!!" he let out. Kicking the cable off his foot, it sailed into the bathroom.

Despite the inconvenience Imanol continued on, pressing two rods of chrome against each other Imanol attempted to fit them together. "What does the manual say?" he ventured to Ariss holding up the conundrum with his good hand.

"Uh! That looks okay?" he said, his voice though not agreeing with the sentiment. Looking at the instructions, he turned them over, then over again, seeing if looking at it upside down helped.

"For god sake.." Imanol moaned as the pain in his hand grew hotter. Frustrated he rapped it off the dining table, freeing himself of the clamp in the process. Gawking at the shattered filter Imanol frowned. Ariss threw a look at Imanol and both men paused for a moment. "Wasn't my fault" Imanol insisted.

"Maybe we can do without that bit" Ariss murmured. "By the Prophets, I'm an idiot!" he said. Walking over to the desk, he placed the instructions on the terminal, "Computer, scan and translate into Bajoran Standard." Watching as the computer translated the instructions, he picked up a PADD, and transferred the notes. "That's better" he said satisfied. Scrolling down the notes he started reading.

Imanol rolled his head back and forth as he fell into a chair nearest the door. His migraine started to kick as the taste of last nights tequilla broke through his peppermint toothpaste. Sighing he looked at his mighty aquarium scattered in bits around the living quarters. "Finally some progress" Imanol announced as the computer sounded its confirmation to Ariss' request.

After a moment, Ariss scowled. Deactivating the PADD, he sent it flying after the coil of cable. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "Cause those notes are for building a Cetatan tank!" Growling under his breath, he picked up another piece at random.

"You've GOT to be kidding me.." Standing now Imanol could feel an amount of anger grow from his stomach up to his chest and into his throat. He clenched his fists tightly and closed his eyes. "Calm, Blue, Ocean, Clam! Blue! Ocean!".

Taking a deep breath he released the pressure somewhat. "Okay Ariss, I'll make sure to have a quite word with my Mr. Milo, the friendly Ferengi". Looking back down at the floor it really didn't seem that bad, there were a number of pieces squared away as 'spares' but that was about it. Emerging from the pile with two elongated plastic tubes he set them down next to the main structure. "This goes.....here and this one goes...... here!"

"No, no, no. This bit's gotta go here. 'That' bit's gotta go up there!" Ariss said, pointing. This had started out as a fun way to spend the morning, now it was swallowing the afternoon as well. Looking at the partially completed frame and persplex, he paused. "Uh! Imanol." He said, suddenly very thoughtful. "If this is gonna stand over there," he said, pointing to the corner, "Uh, how are we gonna get it there once it's done?"

Imanol looked at corner and the unit several times before speaking. "good point." He sized up the aquarium and motioned Ariss over. "If you can lift from inside the tank then I can do likewise from the outside." He helped Ariss into the tight space and both took firm grips of the structure. "On three, ready, One... two... WAIT, ... wait... okay! one, two, three".

Lifting from inside, Ariss took step by stumbling step at Imanols command. Slowly they shuffled the tank until it was near the spot it was going to live. "Okay, hold it there, any further & we're not going to be able to finish it!" Reaching up, he grabbed the rim and pulled himself up to climb out. "Uh! Imanol." He said, dropping back in. Tapping the persplex he pointed up. The sloping ceiling was going to make this look good over here, "Back over there!" He pointed. It also made it impossible to get out.

Imanol stepped back to marvel at the structure ignoring Ariss. The structure would fit snugly in the corner of the room covering one whole port hole, the perfect finishing touch to the already smart quarters. Its blue glow would illuminate the living area at night and would have a quiet, tranquil effect during the day. This was made possible by the soundproof glass Ariss was trapped behind. Imanol smiled in thought.

~"That's the bedroom over there and that's where we eat over, there!" Imanol says as he leads a female guest around the quarters. "Oh wow! what's that?" asks the stranger curiously. "Oh, That's my Bajoran, cute isn't he?" ~

Looking at the faraway look on Imanols face, and his smile, Ariss hammered on the persplex, trying to bring his attention back to the problem at hand. "Haejmin cas'c!tai!" he cussed

"Quit playing around Ariss" Imanol insisted.

Lifting the tank with some effort, Ariss raised the tank a few inches. "Imanol, Get. Me. Out. Of. Here!" He said forcefully.

"Alright give me a second" Imanol used his powerful arms to lift the structure long enough for Ariss to squirm out from underneath. Clearly relieved to be out Ariss took to one knee to catch his breath. "So, do you reckon the fish will like it in there?" Imanol inquired.

"Oh yeah, sure!" Ariss said sarcastically.

...

[Some time later!]

Imanol leaned on Ariss as the two men admired the completed structure. "Well, just one last thing to do" Imanol announced wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Computer, transfer three hundred gallons of fresh water to the aquarium. Temperature 30 degrees centigrade and stick in a couple of goldfish while your at it. Stand by for command." Imanol patted Ariss on the back, "You do the honors buddy."

"If you insist. Computer. Energize."

The two men stood proudly marveling over their aquarium with big broad smiles.

After a few moments a small hissing sound could be heard. "Ariss... what's that noise" Imanol said cheerfully. Another few moments passed before Imanol spoke again his smile big and broad "Ariss... where's that noise coming from?" The sound had gone from a small hiss to a larger rumbling sort.

"Ariss... since when were we capable of welding glass?"

"Uh, that wasn't a weld. Computer..." he started, just as a support gave way, and the rumbling transformed into a rampaging flood. ".open the door. Quickly!"

It was as though The Prophets had listened to Ariss' remark but it was technology and compliance from the ship's computer which had performed the miracle - the doors to the quarters shared by Harinordiquy and Ariss opened. As soon as the space available to the water increased so did the area the water covered. In the process it was Commander Brex - who was on his way to see Imanol - that caught the tail end. The Bolian first officer was more than stunned as he stood there half-drenched. Brex looked down at his uniform before looking up at the two junior officers. "I'm really interested in how you're going to explain this," he simply said.

"Uh.." Imanol looked at Ariss who had managed to slip up in the water and find a large puddle to lay in. ~Good idea~ Imanol rather obviously tripped himself up and with a splash landed next to Ariss who wasn't impressed. Looking up at Brex who was even less so.

Carefully pulling himself up, Ariss stood to attention before the XO. He was suddenly having a vision, one showing his recent promotion swimming away with Imanols fish! "We, uh, had a little accident with Imanols," giving Imanol a quick look, "fish tank! Sir. Looks like one of the support struts wasn't replicated correctly."

"It. well. Broke." Ariss finished lamely.

If it had not been for the water damage Brex could have laughed. Instead he looked down at the wet carpet, shook his head, and looked up again. "Perhaps you better rescue Harinordiquy's fish instead of standing around. Then clean up this mess."

Imanol lifted himself from the puddle resisting the temptation to shake like a dog. "We'll get on sir." He noticed a small red fish splashing around Brex's feet. "If you could just... " He pointed to the Commander's feet. Thank god, Imanol's shark hadn't left its holding container down in the cargo bay. That would certainly have been another unwelcomed adventure.

Ariss looked around, more worried right now about his tools and projects than any stray fish. Fortunately he'd tidied up a while back, but a few errant sparks and buzzes spoke of equipment shorting out here and there. "Oh Prophets!" he muttered.

Brex moved slightly to the right, trying to avoid getting in their way while not moving so much as you have his wet duty trousers stick to his thigh - not a particularly pleasant feeling.

Imanol splashed around with the fish several times before finally grabbing a hold of it, he walked over to the tank with the slithery replication. "Oh yeah.. no water." He thought for a moment. "Computer, get rid of these fish" he stared for a moment at the First officer and Ariss's glares, "WHAT? Their not real!" he responded.

Tapping his comm badge, "Maintenance, could we get a maint bot to Deck 14, portside please. There's been a little mishap here with some water, about 300 gallons worth." Listening to the acknowledgement, Ariss raised his voice, "Computer, lock onto free standing water in this area and beam to recycling tanks."

[Acknowledged. Stand Clear] it replied.

"We'll have this cleaned up within the hour sir!" Ariss promised the XO. Hearing a loud snap, followed by a burning smell, Ariss cringed at the thought of what that was. "Perhaps a little longer." He finished, as the computer activated the fire control force fields in the room.

"I hope so," the Bolian said. Brex glanced over at Imanol and then Ariss. Shaking his head he decided to skip his 'chat' with Ensign Harinordoquy and decided to return to his quarters to change.

With Ariss in his bedroom dodging sparks and avoiding electrocution Imanol had a moment to rest. Sitting on the couch he made himself two promises, one - never buy anything from a Ferengi, especially one with a lazy eye, and two - never trust an engineer. Imanol would have a kip on that spot for an hour, smiling to the soothing sound of Ariss' wailings and the charming sweet smell of burnt out electrics.

"Quentite trap"

by
Turan Trelar,
juvenile Quentite ambassador,
USS Galaxy

The work was almost done. It took Turan almost an hour to draw a scribble of the entrance of an ancient technology shop he found on SB212.

---------

There were four steps leading down to a transparent automatic door. About knee-high to the right of the door a sign said

"Mind you head!"

Indeed, the door wasn't very high - even for Terran proportions. Above the door, an other sign warned:

"Watch the steps!"

Together, both signs formed a mechanism, Turan called a Quentite trap. First time he decided to have a look at the shop's offers, his eyes fell on the upper sign. Warned by the sign Turan carefully descended the steps, taking care not to miss any of the steps which were in fact much smaller than his feet.

Unfortunately he forgot the wall, the sign was applied to. While he carefully took the fourth step, his forehead made a painful first contact with the wall above the door.

Turan woke up, sitting on the shop's steps in a rather crinkled position. He felt dizzy. His head was aching. He touched his forehead to find his fingertips covered with blood - Quentite blood which wasn't dry yet. At least, his unconsciousness didn't seem to have lasted long.

----------

Turan placed an other figure by first touching one point then expanding the rectangular sha...

Suddenly the display flickered and went dark. A small cloud of ugly smelling smoke came out of the PADD's ventilation. Turan swear - of course in Quentinarish. Fortunately, the translator-commbadge he wore applied to his jacket was smart enough not to translate so we don't need to change the sim's rating.

At home on Quentin, he would simply have removed the PADD's polycrystalline non volatile memory to transfer its content to a new, more up to date PADD on stock at the next computer store. From his current position - a small room on the giant duranium city called Galaxy, the next Quentite computer store was out of reach - hundreds if not thousands of lightyears away.

The Quentite turned the PADD around. Using the small screwdriver integrated in his boy scout knife, he unscrewed the eight screws which kept the PADDs rear and front cover together. Carefully, he removed the cover to have a close look at the PADD's PCB. Most of PCB seemed to be OK. There wasn't even dust covering the boards printed circuits. Of course there wasn't any dust. Before the Galaxy left Quentin, Turan bought and installed a new long life energy cell. Because the PADD's cover anyhow had to be opened, Turan removed the dust, the PADD had collected during the last twelve years, the PADD was his permanent companion.

A small area of the PCB was covered with a dark smear. A small electronic part seemed to have celebrated the end of its life cycle performing its own private firework. The cylindric shape of the parts remains, together with printing on the pcb near the parts position made identifying the part an easy job. The part was a capacitor. Obviously, the capacitor covered a vital function - even a child would have been able to guess from the fact, the PADD didn't work without it.

Where to obtain a new capacitor? Galaxy's computer system where far ahead Quentite state of the art. Bio-neural circuits, memory gelpacks and nano-electronic crystals were absolutely incompatible to the parts, used in his PADD - parts, which from a star fleet engineer's point of view would be taken as ancient technology.

Turan scratched his forehead. The plaster, a nurse applied after his accident at the ancient technology shop became itchy more and more. Ancient technology? Turan jumped up from his seat. Obviously he had to face the challenge of the Quentite trap once more.

((OOC: Written after a real incident that happed to the writer at a small shop located in Buggiba, Malta. Guess, how the shop was called ..."Mind-your-head-market"))

"sleepwalking"

by
Rayna O'Grady
Shinta Navarre
James A. Brooke

Shinta refused to believe Mike was gone. She remembered something similar had happened with her first husband, Bruce. They had given him up for dead, and he had been missing for months when he finally showed up again.

Together, with her eldest son, she made her way over to the O'Grady quarters. Gavin had insisted on coming along, badly shaken as he was himself he wanted to comfort Nikki.

She hit the chime. "It's Shinta and Gavin, may we come in?"

Rayna sat in the confines of her bedroom while Nikki played with the twins in their bedroom. Nikki didn't like being around her when she was like this. Nikki walked to the door, the twins oblivious to what had happened, and answered it. She let them in...

Points to the bedroom, "She's in there but she probably won't talk to you. She won't talk to anyone." She looks at Gavin, "Come on. You can help me watch the twins."

Shinta watched them leave together glad she had taken her son along.

Rayna was sitting in her bed, Indian style, while she clutched Mike's robe in her arms, her face buried into it, smelling the scent of his. She didn't acknowledge Shinta at all. It was obvious that Rayna had been crying nonstop all day.

She just sat down on the bed next to her and quietly lay a hand on Rayna's shoulder.

Rayna peeked out of the robe and saw Shinta, "Why?" She continued, "Why now? We were finally happy." She started to sob.

"I don't know, honey. I know as a shrink I should tell you to find closure, yet I can't believe he's dead. Remember what happened to Bruce all those years ago? I wouldn't give up hope yet." She gently held Rayna.

"I haven't given up hope but everyone else has, including the Captain and Mike was supposed to be his friend." Rayna rubbed her eyes with both hands, "I'm so tired."

"I haven't given up hope." She squeezed Rayna's shoulder. "Why don't you try to sleep for a little while, I will look after the children."

She shook her head no, "I can't sleep. All I do is have dreams...terrible dreams of where he might be."

~Tell me about nightmares~ Shinta thought. "And yet you need to sleep. The children need you strong, would it help if I stayed with you tonight?"

"I'm not sure if I remember the dreams but I do remember him yelling for me. He sounds like he is in agony. I run towards his voice but it keeps changing directions. I try to yell back but I can't. Then...I hear that final excruciating scream...then...a deafening silence. After that, I wake up, drenched in sweat."

Rayna takes a deep breath then exhales, "I feel so empty inside. Not only have I lost my husband but I lost the baby too. I guess this is my punishment for all of the things I've done in the past."

"It's not your fault." Shinta said softly. "And he isn't dead. I'm going to stay with you tonight, honey."

"Thanks." Rayna laid down, still clutching Mike's robe. It was clear that she was exhausted and that it would be a long night for the both of them.

"I will call my husband to let him know I will be staying here."

Rayna nodded as her thoughts went back to her missing husband. Not before long, she fell asleep only to be woken up by someone yelling her name and thus the dreams began once more.

***Kids***

"Are you okay?" Gavin asked softly.

Nikki shrugged, "Mommy just sits in her room and cries. I don't know what to do. I can cook and take care of them but I don't want to do that everyday."

"We can help, if you will let us." He said.

Nikki nodded, "I'd like that." She got quiet then spoke up, "He's never coming back, is he?"

"I don't know." Gavin said honestly. "I know my mother has given up hope, uncle Bruce came home after months, everybody thought he was dead."

Nikki got angry, "Well, that's him, not my dad. My family has bad luck."

Gavin swallowed, maybe it was his fault again. He explained to Mike that everybody who came close to him disappeared. "It isn't your fault or your families. You mustn't think that. And there is no proof he is dead."

Nikki sighed, "You sound like the adults around here. They always say things like that. Did you know that he really isn't my daddy? I used to hear them talk about my real daddy. He wasn't a nice person. He was killed and now I don't have one at all. I'm scared that mommy might go away too."

Very scared she would be angry Gavin decided to put his arms around her. "They say my father is horrible as well, I don't even know his name. Your mother is not going to leave, mothers just don't and you have friends, you are not alone."

"You are a good friend Gavin. I wouldn't change that at all." She put her head on his shoulder.

"I will stay with you for as long as you need." He whispered.

The twins both sat down with them. Nikki lifted her head off of Gavin's shoulder. The twins, Nikki believed, knew that something was up. She looked over at Gavin, "The twins and me were going to camp out in the other room. I thought I would put up a tent and pretend that we are in the mountains. Do you think your mommy will let you spend the night?"

"Yes, she will." Shinta said coming into the room. "Come on, let's get you lot ready for bed."

Nikki smiled, "Thank you." Nikki put her brother and sister into their night clothes with Shinta's help. She then put up the tent as if she had done it everyday. They all went in and zipped up the door.

***

After the children were in bed Shinta settled in a chair in the bedroom. When Rayna began to shout she said down next her on the bed and held her until she quieted down again. One positive thing, staying awake meant she wouldn't have her own nightmares.

More time passed by as Rayna sat up in bed very abruptly. Without uttering a word, she got out of bed and put Mike's robe on and proceeded out the bedroom. Even though she looked awake, she wasn't. She muttered something about Mike needing her and that she had to go to him.

Shinta decided to follow her. She didn't know very much about sleepwalkers, just that somebody had told her once not to wake them.

Rayna opened up a drawer where she kept a phaser, took it out and thenwalked right out the door and began calling Mike's name, "Mike? I hear you but I can't see you. Where are you? Keep calling my name, I'm coming to help you. They will pay if they hurt you. Mike? Mike?"

"Rayna," She said softly trying not to startle her. "wake-up, you are dreaming."

"Mike, answer me!" She kept repeating, "Please, answer me." She walked into another room that was fortunately empty. There, she pointed her phaser and tried to shout but this time, nothing came out. She couldn't utter a word. She dropped her phaser as she grabbed for her throat. Rayna was almost brought to her knees but then she just passed out.

Shinta quickly made her comfortable and made sure her breathing was not impaired. Then she covered Rayna with a blanket and waited until she came round.

Rayna woke up and was disoriented, "This isn't my room." She saw Shinta, "What's going on? How did I get here?"

Softly, Shinta told her everything that had happened. "I want to call James, to give you a quick checkup. Did you see him when you lost the baby?"

Feeling quite embarrassed, "I saw one of his flunkies but I don't need a doctor. It's all the stress I've been going through. This could happen to anyone who has gone through what I have."

"Hon, you had a weapon in your hand. You didn't know what you were doing in your sleep."

Rayna looks down and sees it. She starts to cry, "My God! Then I must be going insane." She covers her face with her hands, "Please tell me it isn't so."

"Hush." Shinta put her arms around the other woman. "You were sleepwalking and you are under a lot of stress. You are not going crazy."

Rayna pleaded with Shinta, "Don't report this, please? I couldn't bear anyone to know about this.

Shinta grumbled, she should report this" and yet she hated it herself. "Let us go and sit down and I will get you something to drink ."

A little later, Shinta sat down next to her. "How about I ask James to come down to check you out. And we're not going to mention the phaser? "Rayna wasn't sure if she should trust her. She could just see all this getting blown out of perspective and then more psychological tests. Rayna had nochoice. Shinta was the only one who could keep her sane, "If you feel he needs to, then okay, you can call him."

"I feel much better if we do." So at 3 in the morning she called her husband out of bed. "Morning love could you come by Rayna's for a housecall."

"Coming," Brooke said, still not entirely awake. He took the medkit he always had in his quarters, just for things like this, and headed for Rayna's quarters, wondering what was going on. He recalled she had lost her child, but it had been while he was off duty and another doctor had handled it.

He reached her quarters fairly quickly and rang the chime. "What's wrong," he asked when he entered.

"Rayna is naturally taking Mike's disappearance very bad. She has trouble sleeping, and nightmares. I sat with her whole night. Just now she started sleepwalking. Is there anything you can do to help?" Of course she didn't tell him about the weapon.

"Let's see," Brooke said, taking out his tricorder and starting a scan. "Probably still some hormonal imbalances from your pregnancy," he said after going over the results, "that and the stress. I'll give you something mild so you can sleep tonight, but I want you to come to sickbay tomorrow for a more thorough investigation. And you should best talk to someone from Shinta's department, if you're not doing that already."

"She is obviously my patient." Shinta said realising he might not be fully awake yet.

Rayna nodded, "Shinta has been very helpful and a very good friend." She couldn't believe she said that considering that she thought she had no friends at one point.

Brooke took out a hypospray, and selected a vial with medication.

Rayna thought about the pills he offered her and was weary about taking the pills to sleep. It was her experience that the pills didn't keep the dreams from happening, "Do you have something that can make me not have these damn dreams? They're getting more frequent and now this."

"We can do two things. I can say here for the rest of night. Or we can ship you all over to our quarters."

"Perhaps a change of scenery," Brooke offered, "there are things that make absolutely sure that you don't dream, but if you want some of that, it's sickbay. You have to be monitored for that kind of stuff."

Shinta did not want to influence her friend, yet she would be surprised if Rayna chose sickbay. And she was a little bit miffed that James had never discussed this option with her.

Rayna hated sickbay. The thought even bothered her but then again, if she was sleepwalking, she could be a danger to herself and her children. So many thoughts ran through her mind including questions that she started to ask herself...

What if Shinta hadn't been there and some crewmember had been there? Would she have shot them? Or one of her kids approached her during one of these sleepwalking sessions, would she accidently shoot them?

Rayna's exhaution was causing havoc in her thinking abilities. Too many choices, too many options. The room seemed to spin causing her to close her eyes, "I don't know what to do. Tell me what I should do, please Shinta." She wasn't one to plead but her head began to hurt and she was running scared. She feared for everyone's life, especially her kids.

Shinta helped her to a sitting position. "Why don't you go to sickbay for the rest of the night. Then when you have rested the three of us can talk tomorrow."

Rayna looked at the couple then nodded, "Maybe I'd better. It would be best for everyone." Rayna wasn't crazy about sickbay but she did feel like she was crazy, or going crazy, she didn't know which. Rayna next thought was about the kids, "What about Nikki and the twins? They are too young to be by themselves."

"I know. I'll stay with them." Shinta promised

She turned to her husband. "What do you think, shall we move all the children or shall I stay and sleep here?"

"They sleep now," Brooke said, perhaps better to let them sleep. I'll take Rayna to sickbay and make sure everything is okay."

"Who is staying with our children?"

"I'll get a comm message when they wake up," Brooke said, "and I've asked the neighbours to keep an eye while I'm away. Which won't be that long."

"Okay." She said. Given this was an emergency situation he had actually thought it through pretty well.

At this point, as long as Rayna knew the kids would be okay, she was ready to go to sickbay. She didn't know how much longer she could stay awake.

Brooke escorted her to sickbay, where he explained things to the doctor on duty, before heading back to his quarters and the other kids.

*OTHER ROOM*

Nikki was awaken by some noises and peeked out. She saw her mom go out the door with a phaser in her hand. Even though she was worried, she also saw Shinta follow her so Nikki decided that it was best she not say anything to anyone and stay where she was.

When she heard the door open again, her mother's voice plus Shinta's, Nikki was able to fall back to sleep.

Nikki heard some noise again that woke her up. She saw her mother being escorted out. She stopped and looked at the adult standing there, "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'm old enough to watch them until mommy comes back." Nikki stopped and gave a scared look, "She IS coming back, isn't she?"

Shinta pulled the girl in an embrace. "She is coming back." She saw her son watching them awake as well now. "Your mother loves you very much, she won't leave you for longer than necessary. And I'm staying here for the rest of the night."

"And Gavin too?" Nikki inquired. "I am staying." The boy said and came closer embracing her.

Nikki was satisfied, "Thank you. I'm really tired. I think I will go back to bed before the twins wake up and I am not there." Nikki was now able to rest, knowing that her mom was taken care of. Gavin followed her a worried look on his face.

((OOC: This is a backpost, set a few days before any of my Daniel/Jerri posts. ))

"Seeking Solace"

by
Cmdr. Jerri Wolfson

&
Cmdr. James Mitchell

-----

Jerri fingered the necklace that Jack had given her for her birthday with one hand as she watched the whales swim back and forth in their tank. There really was no true reason for her returning to this deck, the tanks had long ago been repaired and the whales were safe at the moment. Instead, she found herself leaning against the railing deep in thought. The past few months had been hell for her, between her fight with Jordan, her abduction by the mirror Hammond, and the damn "sensor" that the mirror Cat had placed in Main Engineering.

She just felt the need to watch something peaceful - something that hadn't been touched by the drama of the starship Miranda. She found that something here, with the light reflected off the water casting shadows across her face and the room. She never noticed when he entered the room behind her.

The anger always went away when James came to work at the whale tanks. Maybe it was a distant origin of his, maybe an echo of memory when his symbiote was in its natural state. Not that it mattered, for the creatures of grace that inhabited this area were apart from the chaos of ego's that infested the ship.

As he keyed open a portal gate to gain entry to the lower sector of Tank 12, he stopped on a dime. He hadn't expected anyone down here in this sector. For the most part, it was off-limits anyways. He stole a glimpse of blond locks and knew who it was.

He respected the privacy of solitude he'd offered her before, he knew not why, but he settled on backing out, but not before a cough escaped from him.

Jerri's head jerked slightly at the unexpected sound. Turning slightly, she smiled when she saw who it was, "It's alright, James. You can come in. I think I've had enough of solitude for the time being." Her eyes were still slightly haunted from all that had happened in the past week, but the smile she gave him was still as warm and welcoming as ever. She considered James a friend, which was something most would react to in shock. He, at least, knew to show the truth in his dealings with others. Unlike Jordan. That familiar anger burned within her, but it was diluted from what it had been.

"My apologies, Jerri." He sneezed. Bringing out a kerchief, he wiped his nose, red and raw it was.

"I've caught something, as you can see." He coughed once more.

"Anything I can do for you?"

"You should probably see Cat about that," she advised, looking concerned at his appearance, "As for something you can do for me...well, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Ms. Wolfson. About the question part, that is. Sickbay is for panzies." Another cough, rattled.

"Once, you asked me what I saw in Jordan that made her my friend. I think I understand now just what made you ask that question. I'm sorry for any misjudgments that I might have made, James. You were right," Jerri sighed softly and turned back to face the whales, "Jordan is...well...a bitch."

"So much for the irresistible force and immovable object. I never thought I'd ever rue the day someone would tell me I'm right. Somehow, I don't feel celebrative though." Cough, cough. "Even if I think I heard what you said." He laughed, a raspy, throaty sound that was nothing short of a grating whisper.

"I'm sorry. She was your friend. I shouldn't take pleasure in her best friend calling her a bitch."

Jerri's lips quirked upwards slightly at his comment, "I know, James, I know...and I don't take any pleasure in saying it. However, I never truly saw what our relationship was truly like until it got to be too much. I like to believe friendship is a two way street, and I seem to have been doing all of the traveling."

"Well, let's unload some of that needless baggage, shall we?" He held out his arm.

"Anywhere you want to go, I'm there. Let's find an incinerator and incredibly potent bottle of liquor to wash away the sins of Kit Jordan."

She actually smiled at that as she took his arm, "That sounds like an excellent plan, my friend."

"What kind of name is that anyways? Did her parents have any clairvoyance on how whorish she'd turn out to be? I've known way too many hookers named Kitty in my life. Swish your fingers together and she comes running a-purr in heat."

The slight twinge that she felt at James' comments did not cause her to react adversely to him, let alone try to defend Jordan's name. "That's probably why she's trying to go by Jordan. Wants to avoid those implications, or some such. What I want to know is if she's always been such a whiner. Woe is me, world's out to get me, it's the end of the world as we know it. She'd go on these rants about how everything's not going her way...it was damned annoying."

"No need to preach to the converted here, Jerri." Powering down the terminals (so Ops doesn't have anymore fits than usual), James darkened

the room as they exited, but without much idea where.

"Where to go? Your place or mine?" Grinning wickedly, he made every attempt to keep the tickle down in his throat, but it barreled out anyways. "Damn cough! Alternate universe stuff always makes me sick."

Jerri laughed, "Ah, yes, the ever popular question. My mom actually recommended whiskey and honey when I got a nasty cough...I think I have some stashed somewhere at my place, if you'd like to try it."

"Now what would Jordan say if she knew I were in your quarters tonight, hmm?" Putting one arm casually around her shoulders, he lifted the other as he spoke, the paleness deflective as he gestured with the words he spoke.

"Oh, woe is me, why is everyone against me? My ex-friend and confidante, alone in the harem of wonders with the oh-so-terrible James Mitchell, eh? I can just imagine the angst! Think she'll grow a big zit over it? Smack in the middle of her eyes, like a target."

Wolfson snickered at the thought, "I can actually see her doing just that. She couldn't believe it when I told her that you were my friend," she shook her head, "Sad. Very, very, sad. Or would that be pathetic?"

"Yes, well, she does pathetic quite well. Anything for attention. She might as well wear diapers and stick the pacifier up her arse, not like

you can tell it from her face anyways."

"Tell me about it. She likes being the center of attention. I wonder what she'd do if she didn't have Jii to whine to? It's a good thing she doesn't have any staff on this ship. Someone'd have to rescue them after the first ten minutes alone with her."

James laughed, or whatever passed for one, and went into a coughing fit. He waved off any assistance Jerri would have given. "It's alright. That busted me up." He bent at the waist until it passed.

"I think I'm going to need some rescuing soon myself. So long as it isn't her. I'd have to kill myself. Then again, she'd probably twist that around for her benefit. Probably declare a win with a fist in the air."

"Woah, James, I really don't like the sound of that cough," Jerri frowned, looking at him with a concerned expression on her face, "You're *certain* that I can't convince you to go to Sickbay?"

"If step foot in that place, Shinta will be all over me like a bad rash, and that's a compliment. I'm not in the mood for her 'oh, you've got this parasite thing in you that's making you all crazy' crap. Like Jordan,

she can't see that the problem is with her inability to let go of something. Whack-jobs."

"Alright," she sighed, "But another fit like that last one, you're going to see the Doc. Until then, let's get some of Mom's favorite cough and sore throat cure into you." Jerri led the way into her quarters and quickly headed towards the kitchenette to grab the liquor and honey.

James, feeling suddenly drained, beelined for the sofa. Kicking off his boots, he fell onto it in a sprawl.

"Why is everyone else's sofa's more comfortable than mine? I swear to Prophets, you women get all the good stuff. Must be that wonderful bedside manner some of you have. Others get it on credit. Not like they can think for themselves."

Jerri's lips curled upwards in an amused smile. "That's it, exactly. It is a conspiracy, you know." She handed him the glass and gestured for him to drink, "It's usually better if you down that in one swallow."

"No problem there." Coming back to a sitting position, he swirled the contents. The honey rolled in a willowy wisp inside. He drew back on the glass as directed by this stunning turn of events blonde in front of him, and grimaced at the mixture of tastes.

"That's rough stuff..." He rasped out as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform. "Got another? Leave the honey out this time, please?"

"Sure," she headed back into the kitchen and returned with the bottle and a second glass. "I hated the taste, but it did soothe my throat," Jerri said as she poured for them both.

"So tell me what happened? Share the entertainment."

"Ah, yes...let's see here. I don't know if you knew this, but inevitably I'd end up having Toryl stay with me when she and Jii wanted some alone time. It didn't really matter what I had planned, or what I was doing at the time. She just always assumed that I didn't mind. Normally I don't, he's a good kid, but there are times when I'd like to do things by myself or with Jack...things that most definitely do not include the need to watch over Toryl," the familiar bitterness rose in her throat, and Jerri took a sip from her glass to try to drive away the feeling. "Jack called me down to Sickbay because Jordan had been hit by the mirror universe version of Jii. Jordan went into her usual world's out to get me rant, before ending that with a question of what's wrong with me. And I just snapped. Between the demands she places on me, the ongoing pity parties, and her selfishness I had had enough."

"Understandable. Everyone wants attention. Some more than others. Well, I'm a giver," pouring a finger into each glass, he proffered one to the Engineer.

"Well, Ms. Wolfson, if it's any consolation, I'm all ears tonight. You need to talk," he waved a hand and leaned back in to the nice, soft, comfy couch, closing his eyes. "Go ahead. Tonight, you can be the taker. Jordan can go make a date with a block of cheese. Goes well with the godawful whine."

Jerri laughed softly at the comment, "Indeed. Well, let's see here..." she said before she began to speak. She told him about Jordan, and everything that had happened - spilling out the hurt, the anger, and the frustration....

****

2 Hours Later

"...And then...the guy wa....wa...walsh....walks into the bar!" Jerri said, swaying slightly and giggling. She was, quite obviously, trashed. Then again, James was no better. Between the two of them, they were having a grand old time.

James had to think about that one. His head was thick with cobwebs. Jerri was a fine gal, but a jokester she wasn't. Still, it was a fine, but rare moment he could share in anything that didn't grate on his nerves so much as the other morons on this ship.

"Wazzn't that shupposed to be the opening? Or iz the punchline coming?" The Bajoran blinked in confusion. Not a difficult task to accomplish when one thought about it. "I hope Kitty Kat didn't pash that one along to you. That one's humor ish about ash dry as the litterbox she came out of!"

"Oh..." Jerri's brow wrinkled as she considered his comments before nodding, "You're raght. I for..for...forgot the rest of that. Being drunk doeshn't help membering anythin'."

"Alsho helpsh one forget about the most irritating partsh of your life ash well." Even the image of Arel fuzzed out in his head. He almost couldn't remember her name.

"Thash right. Let's drink to...to..."

"Chips and crackers!" He hadn't had much to drink, he thought, but for some ungodly reason, he felt woozy now. Must be the medication.

"Raght. That'll do," With that she attempted to clink her glass with James' but didn't quite hit it...."Oooops." She carefully steadied her hand and attempted to hit James' glass again, this time it hit. "To whatever it was." And she downed the last bit of the drink...and promptly passed out.

James saw Jerri teeter backwards. All three of them. He made a dive towards the middle one and collided with her. Tumbling to the floor, his world went suddenly dim. "I think I'll just resht here for a while...."

----------

The next morning...

Was it possible for a herd of elephants to tap dance in one's skull? To Jerri Wolfson that was more than possible, indeed it was probable especially when she had been rather stupid the night before. Her body ached in places she didn't know she had, "Stupid, Jer, really stupid." She winced at the loudness of her voice. She was swearing off of alcohol. Never again.

"Shhh.... let's just stay in bed all day... we'll call in tired..." The Bajoran grunted and tried to roll an arm onto the Chief Engineer.

"Shit!" she muttered when she spotted James' body sprawled next to her on the floor. Obviously, considering the state of her coffee table, and the number of glasses and liquor bottles scattered on the floor, they had had a 'very' good time. "Aw hell," she reached over and shook James' shoulder, "James, time to get up..."

"Mmmm.... I like it when you talk dirty to me. Not sure if I can go another round with you, but I'll sure as hell give it a go." He puckered up his lips, eyes still closed and half-asleep, and leaned in to kiss he shoulder even as he tried to spoon in.

"You need to get home...and I need to something big, round, and labeled aspirin inside me before the elephants tap dancing in my skull start their second number," Jerri replied pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead.

"Call it whatever you want. Never heard of aspirin as a pet name for it, but whatever works... give us a kiss!"

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, before deciding that it was a rather bad idea when the room started swimming. Nothing had happened, she was fully clothed as was James. She suspected they had just passed out...but trust Mitchell to be amorous first thing in the morning. "James, wake up!" she shook his shoulder harder, "You passed out on my floor. Get up."

Groggily, he opened his eyes. "Stop pushing me around! I know you like it rough, but not when I can hardly think straight." Everything was fuzzy.

"I need a drink if you're not going to put out... what was your name again?" He coughed, which sent a rush of dizziness at him.

She sighed again - which was probably going to become a standard if this kept up. Jerri carefully managed to regain her feet and she wobbled her way towards the kitchenette. Instead of grabbing a glass of water for her hung over guest, she grabbed the pitcher of water from the refrigeration unit. Using this would probably wake him up, either that or make him fighting mad, but it would at least get him up and off her floor. Not to mention turn off the amorous circuit that seemed to be stuck in permanent on after their drinking binge the night before.

Standing over James' still body, she held the pitcher and began pouring a steady stream into his face, "It's Jerri, James. And you know exactly who it is. So get up!" When he began spluttering, she stopped pouring, but it was enough to get him somewhat sober. She hoped.

The Bajoran bolted upright when the cold stream hit his face and chest. Rolling on his side, he sputtered out the liquid that had pooled up his nose and throat.

"What the hell was that for??!! I was having a great dream! I should kick your ass for that."

A small smile appeared on her face as she looked down at her fellow Commander, "Promises, promises. You're hung-over James, and if you aren't I have no idea how you managed it...but I want your constitution. In other words, it's time for you to go home."

"Just a little tongue of the dog, but that's it. Jordan-overs are worse. Trust me. Give me a towel to dry off and I'll head out of here unless you want to lend me a shower ration. I got to be on-shift in an hour anyhow." This upon noticing the chronometer through the mist of water that drilled over his eyes.

Jerri winced in sympathy, "That, to borrow a phrase, sucks." She headed back into her bedroom and returned with a large and rather fluffy white towel which she tossed at James. "Here you go. Um...thanks James, for letting me vent last night."

James shrugged. "No big deal. I love hearing a good insult about our resident diaper baby." He grinned ear to ear. "Prophets forbid should I miss a nebula swirl." Scrunching the towel over his hair and neck, he shivered. "I might have to come back, unless you'd planned on it." The Bajoran sniffled to remind the Engineer of the cold and cough he'd come down here with in the first place the night before.

The Chief Engineer grinned back, "Don't forget to see the Doc about that, James. But honestly, thank you."

"Hey, you were offering free booze. How could I say no?" Digging through the pile on the desk, he found a decanter with a solid amber liquid inside. Sighing in pleasure, he threw back a shot, feeling it burn all the way down into his belly, where the fires ebbed their life-giving warmth.

"That's the ticket. No more hangover. Guaranteed." He proffered the bottle of Yukon Jack whiskey briskly, its contents swirling about as much as his stomach was before he drained the elixir.

"Nah," she held up her hands in a negative gesture, "Somehow the thought of alcohol right now just doesn't work with this hangover."

"Your choice if you want to suffer. Gluttony isn't my bag." Setting it back down in the first open place he could see on the low table, he shook.

"Give me a call if you need to shout again, Jerri." He stopped to tap a hand on her right shoulder as he was about to take his leave.

"There's only one person in this world you can trust implicitly, if you're honest. That's you. If you begin second-guessing yourself, and allying with those that don't give a crap about you just to make yourself believe people care, you've already lost. Believe in yourself. Trust your instincts. They'll never turn their back on you."

Wolfson nodded thoughtfully, perhaps he was right. After all, her instincts led her to find a friend in James Mitchell. That hadn't turned out badly for her at all. "I will," she said softly.

He nodded, slipping his hand from her shoulder. "I'm not the most trustworthy or even likable person on this ship, but have faith in the fact I'm always around if you need to blather on about stuff. I may not have an inkling what you're talking about half the time, but I got ears, and I really don't give much of a crap what people think of me, so no worries on twisting it around to whining about my problems. I'm mature enough to deal with it on my own instead of crying like a simpering child who lost their security blanket."

Jerri laughed quietly at the image, "That's all too true. And I'll keep that in mind."

"See ya' round the ship, Jerri." He threw the towel over a chair. Just shy of the exit, he stopped. "Sorry about leaving you with the mess. If you want, I'll stop by later after shift and give you a hand cleaning up."

Jerri surveyed the damage done to her quarters and nodded, "Yeah, swing by after shift. If I haven't gotten this cleaned up by then I'll definitely need the help. See ya later, James." She waved at him as he left her quarters. Now, she thought, surveying the mess, it was time to clean up...

This was going to take a while...

"Rumors"

By
Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter

The vacation was over.

The booze, the shopping, the men. . .or, at least, the possibility to meet men which did not exactly become a conquering success. . . was over. The officers of the Galaxy had gotten their orders. No friendly warning. No 'we'll need to be hurrying along just a bit'. Just Get your asses back NOW.

Oh, the subtle cruelties of being a Starfleet officer.

8-ball made a disgruntled sound somewhere between a sigh and a grunt and trudged along, leaving behind the Starbase and it's perfect shoe stores. It wasn't fair. People deserved more time off. The Galaxy had just been through hell. 8-ball wasn't entirely sure what it had all been about but there had been a lot of work and sweat and death and that was generally enough to warrant a vacation, reasoning behind it aside. She didn't know what the people off the Miranda ship had been up to but no doubt it had something to do with parallel universes or hostile aliens or some other annoying crap that just seemed to always come up when you worked on a space ship. Everyone deserved. . .or, at least, desperately wanted. . .a break.

But no. Recall. EARLY recall.

God, life sucked sometimes.

8-ball could picture the head dude of Starfleet mocking her unhappiness about the recall She didn't know if there was any such person actually existed and sort of doubted that there was one, but it was fun to always have a single head enemy. Mr. Starfleet, in her mind, was an old, Terran man, with no hair, drooping glasses, and a big wart on his nose. His entire essence denied the idea of that he had ever once gotten laid or ever considered the idea of having a sense of humor. Infact, now that 8-ball thought about it, Mr. Starfleet kind of looked like one of her old Academy professors. . .no wonder.

Mr. Starfleet, in his monotone, 'the world is no fun' sort of way, would say to 8-ball's complaint, "The Federation is the most important thing in the universe. Starfeet officers do not snivel when they are recalled. Starfleet officers are proud to do their duty to explore, evolve, and protect mankind. Starfleet is not about shopping. It is about setting an example, reaching a higher level. One shouldn't be unhappy about going back to work. One should feel honorable. Proud. Glorious."

As Mr. Starfleet would explain this, 8-ball could picture herself finding a huge ass phaser rifle thing and shooting a hole through his blabbering head. Ah, the fun of daydreaming.

An ensign 8-ball didn't recognize accidentally rammed her from behind. "Hey!" she said.

"Oh, sorry," the ensign said. He was sort of cute, in a geekish, computer sort of way. "In a hurry to get back. Recalled to duty, you know."

"Yeah, I know," 8-ball said, just for once telling herself not to say 'duh, yeah, so has EVERYBODY'. "Do you know what's up? Why we're all having to go back?"

The ensign shrugged. "Got me," he said. "But I heard that the Vulcans declared war on the entire Federation."

8-ball raised an eyebrow. "Kid, the Vulcans are IN the Federation."

"I know, but apparantly there's this huge mass case of Pon Farr that's hit the whole race and now they're all crazy and psycho and want to kill everybody. . .or screw them, I guess. I don't know. The guy I was talking to wasn't very specific about the details. But all the Vulcans have got, even the ones who are already married. Even the half breed ones!"

8-ball's eyebrow went higher. She pushed back her hair to show off her pointed, cursed ears. "Really?"

The ensign blanched.

"Wow, now that you mention it, I am feeling sort of. . .funny. Hmmm. I must be getting horny. Or homicidal. And look at that, you're the closest male around. You wanna go somewhere so we can have some REAL fun?"

The ensign ran away.

"Twirp," 8-ball muttered to herself. "I wonder what's really going on."

"Well, I heard that it's the Borg. . .yet again," said a girl from behind her. 8-ball vaguely recognized this one. . .she worked in Security on the Galaxy or something. "But that's what everybody says when something's going down. The Borg, or the Q. I hope it's the Q. I've always wanted to meet one of them."

"I'm not sure I do. Didn't the Q introduce us to the Borg?"

"Oh yeah," the girl said. "Well, that sucks. Still. . ."

"It's not Q," another ensign said. She was another one that 8-ball vaguely thought looked familiar but couldn't place. "I heard from my cousin who heard from his bunkmate who talked to his uncle who heard from his girlfriend who talked to her dad who's like some way high admiral or something that it's totally these Ferengi bandits who have taken over this whole starship in exchange for some latinum. Only there's some wormhole thing and a time loop going on but we aren't supposed to know about that because it's really hush hush because I guess Starfleet made some deal with the Cardasssians a really long time ago and like got a whole bunch of people killed but that won't really happen because we're going to go stop the Ferengi and somehow fix it!"

The ensign said that in all of one breath.

8-ball and the other girl blinked at her. A lot.

When they were done blinking, 8-ball decided not to bother commenting and just walked on. "Well, whatever we're going through can't be weirder than that," 8-ball told the girl from Security.

The girl grinned. "You never know. This is Starfleet you're talking about. We get involved everything.

8-ball sighed and grunted again. "Don't I know it."

"Of Elephants and Micronauts"

By

Emmett Bregman,
Documentary Team Leader,
USS Galaxy

James Mitchell,
Chief Science Officer,
USS Miranda

There is a subtle beauty in the movements of jujitsu and karate. Each gesture, kick, and block is a thing of grace and power all in one. Any opportunity to either illuminate the ignorant or to, well, to be honest show off was hard for me to resist. When the call for the Tournament went out among the ship's crew, I could hardly resist the temptation. Besides, Miss Gray might be in the tournament - I might get the chance to hit her a couple of times. All legal, of course. That still infuriated me, especially since all I heard was that the woman would get a reprimand placed in her file. A reprimand? For stuffing me - Emmett Bregman, Pulitzer prize winner, Academy award winner - into a jefferies tube for two hours. She at least deserved to serve some brig time for the injustice. But no, she would learn a lesson with a reprimand. Amateurs. Which brings me back to jujitsu and karate. Combined, especially when one held a black belt in both, they were deadly. Now, all I have to make certain of is that I get in my required hits and avoid getting pummeled - in other words, the tournament was mine. Cocky? Nope, not me. I just tell the truth.

*****

Now that the Miranda was well on her way to prophets know where, James had been given some laxness in his duties until their arrival at whatever destination awaited them. With Sciences not included in the briefing of the mission with the higher-ups, it was safe to assume that whatever urgent need both the Galaxy and Miranda were being sent, it had nothing to do with research.

So, he took it upon himself to visit this ship of dreams his host once worked upon. This ship that had clouded his host's thoughts with pain and discomfort, with the cold bearing of failure.

The third nacelle on it jutted out of its back like a horrible disfigurement. Whoever had blueprinted that thing on it must have been drunk, or at the least, an idiot who'd finished pretty damn low in his class. Someone had to finish last, and they worked for the development team that built this monstrosity.

Not that these curiosities had enticed him over to the smaller ship. But the Hand to hand tournament that had arisen with the two ships on a tour together. Someone had most likely challenged the other that their body part was bigger and badder than the others, so eventually this tourney had resulted, he guessed.

He'd signed up for the boxing aspect as a representative of the Miranda; this was to be his first match.

*****

Emmett Bregman rolled his shoulders as he faced his opponent. Easing into a ready stance, he waited for Hidalgo to make his move. The man was more elephant than human, and his size was daunting. Only, Emmett knew that generally the smaller a martial arts expert was, the better they tended to be in a fight. They were speedier in all aspects. He was counting on that fact to win the tournament. He had joined the games on a whim - especially since they let civilians participate provided they were 'assigned' to either the Miranda or the Galaxy. Creating a documentary technically assigned him to the Galaxy, hence he was admissible to the tournament. A wonderful thing that. Mr. Elephant decided to make his move. With a speed that was surprising for a man of his bulk, Emmett blocked the flurry of blows though Hidalgo did manage to cause a bruise or two on his shin. For that, he was definitely going down. Now, Emmett went on the offensive. Blow, blow, kick, chopping blow, push, block, block, block. His world had narrowed down to himself and his opponent. That was all that mattered.... Five minutes later it was all over - with Mister Elephant Man on the mat and Emmett standing over him. Victory. As if there was any doubt...

*****

Elsewhere on the main Recreation Deck, James was in a fight of his own. He'd drawn a card with a midget.

You'd think it would have been easy, with the 6 foot tall machine all but having to step on the 2 and a half foot Chihuahua, but only if he could catch him.

The little yapper kept trolling in, jabbing here and there, poking and prodding. Little bugger had even bitten his ankles once! He'd even jumped off the top rope to land on his shoulders to beat him around the head once!

The ref hadn't stopped it of course. Why should he? Give the midget all the breaks, and cut James' whenever he could. There must be a pro-midget convention or rule in town.

Eventually, though, the Bajoran had enough. If this tourney was going to be the joke it was, he wanted no part of it. No wonder his host transferred off this boat. With chaotic regulations that were bent on a whim, he'd have ended up in the brig for most of his tour in Starfleet.

So, when he left himself open for another ankle-biter, he got an extra dose of stimuli when the smurf bagged him with a nutterbutt.

Falling to the canvas with a thud, all he saw was the pitter patter of little feet as they rampaged up and over his head, pounding on him with more pokes and prods in the ears, eyes, hair pulling, and butt dancing.

Enough was enough! Off with the gloves! James rammed his elbow up behind him, catching the munchkin in something, but it was enough to stop the marathon on his head. Rolling to his back, he jumped to a sitting position, threw off his gloves, and grabbed the hairless poodle by the back of a mini-leg scurrying away. He swung his capture around and around and around in a vicious circle, picking up speed. He could hear the ref yelling at him to put him down.

Instead of putting him down, though, he tossed the micronaut right out of the ring, to land in a mud-pit some women were wrestling in, bounce off a body and into a rose garden with a shriek.

It gave the meaning 'coming up roses' an all new definition, considering it was the local animal bathroom as well.

"You are disqualified!!!!" The referee was wagging a finger in James' face. Not a smart thing to do.

Five minutes later, the ref was out cold on the ring floor, and James on his way to the showers.

*****

Emmett had been told that he could return for the next round within the next two hours, so he decided to hit the showers for a warm shower to keep his muscles loose. Plus it would help to clean off the slime, or whatever it was, that covered the Elephant Man - or rather "Ensign" Hidalgo. Emmett actually suspected that Hidalgo had been hired for his beefy appearance rather than for his brains, but he refrained from saying as such. That could always wait for an article. Now that could be fun - "Is Starfleet Compensating for Something?" He could see the title now. It would be a wonderful expose. He cast a rather confused eye at the hobbit-like creature that was clambering out of the rose garden covered in unmentionables. Well, to each species it's own. If they liked rolling in muck - more power to them. His nose wrinkled slightly as the stench reached him - then again, there should be a law against that. He reached the men's locker room and thanked his lucky stars that it seemed that he'd have the room to himself. That, at least, would be a blessing.

"The one with the make up (long in coming)"

Commander K. Jordan Elaithin
Commander Jerri Wolfson

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

It couldn't be true. There was no way in hell it could be true. Those self doubts and recriminations echoed through her head as she walked blindly through the hallways of the Miranda. A brother. She had a brother. Her father cheated...her mind shied away from that thought as she continued to walk faster, and faster, until it was a jog.

Deep in her mind the foundations of her beliefs - that family, her family, had always been truthful, whole, and a source of good - began to crumble. And with those foundations went her composure. When she could run no more, Jerri slid down the wall near a lost corner of the starship Miranda and began to cry.

Jordan had been restless all day. She'd woken up sick, and after going back and forth to the 'head', she'd finally begun to feel a little better and she'd not been able to sit still. She'd set out for a walk, found herself in the depths of the Miranda, walking the lower halls.

Rounding a corner, Jordan couldn't help but hear the muffle sobbing. She followed the sound and found Jerri sitting in a corner of the corridor, knees tucked to her chest, forehand resting against them as she hugged her legs tightly.

"Jerri?" she questioned, softly, hesitating a minute before she moved forward and crouched down beside her. "Honey, are you okay?"

If possible, Jerri grew smaller as she hugged her legs even tighter. Her head was buried in her knees as she shook her head and continued to shake from the muffled sobs. Momentary anger filled her before dying away again - with no foundation to build upon, how could she feel anger, hate, or even love ever again? To find out that which was so fundamental was wrong all along...it was devastating. And so, she continued to cry the cries of those who felt that they were broken. And she was. Broken, shattered, fragmented.

Jerri Wolfson sat on a wall. Jerri Wolfson had a great fall. And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Jerri together again...

"Hey, Jer..." Jordan said, rubbing the other woman's back softly, moving slowly closer before sitting firmly down on the floor and hugging her tightly. "Hey, what's all of this, Jerri, what's going on?"

"Did you know that my dad had a mistress? That he was planning on leaving my mom for this other woman? All along they played me...when I was a child, I never knew. I have a brother, Jordan. A half brother. And he's here. He's here on this ship and I don't know what to do," the last words came out in a tearful tone that spoke more of the pain she was feeling than any words ever could.

Jordan didn't know what to say as she hugged her best friend, rocking softly in effort to soothe her. Somehow, spending three months not talking to each other didn't mean anything at the moment. If they had to, they could pick up being pissed as hell at each other after this, but right now, Jerri sure as hell needed someone.

"I didn't know that, no," she whispered. "You're just finding family all over the place, aren't you? You have more than I do now." She offered a small, sad chuckle, trying hard not to cry along with Jerri. She'd always done that: cried when people she was close to did. Or at least, she had when she was younger. "How did you find out about him, sweetie? How did... how did this happen?"

"He's here. On this ship," she managed to say with some semblance of control, "He's been trying to find me, talk to me, for five years. He told me he was my brother, he told me about my father and that he wanted to divorce my mom. He...God, Jordan. Why the hell is this happening to me? Who did I piss off upstairs to give me this crap?" She buried her face back into her arms and began to rock slowly.

"Maybe it's a blessing, honey," she said. "I mean, you have a brother now, right? I always wanted a brother. Is he younger or older, what does he do, what does he like? Maybe you should try to get to know him. He's there, you know? There's nothing you can do about that. So you might as well be involved with him. I'm sure there are things about your parents you don't know, hon, you were seven years old when you were taken away from them. Seven years old... there's going to be a lot of surprises. Hopefully, none bigger than this, but... if you don't want to, I understand. And he should do. At least he didn't dance around it, though, right? He was honest about it..."

Jerri sighed heavily as she stared through her interwoven fingers, "He's younger than me, by four years. I just...can't believe it, Jordan. Everything that I believed about my family..it was a lie."

"So they're not perfect, Jerri." Jordan rubbed her friend's back as she sighed and leaned her head against the wall. "Welcome to the real world of familial relations."

Jerri shook her head before leaning it against the wall. Her tear streaked face was a stark contrast to the wall and her companion, and she truly looked as she thought - broken. "It sucks." she concluded.

Jordan couldn't help it: she laughed and leaned her head against Jerri's shoulder. "Ah. Give it time. You'll find it almost fun, in a sick and sadistic sort of way. This is what makes families real, honey: the ability to be messed up and still function. At least a little bit. I mean, hell, look at mine. Look at anyone's. It's just... give it some time I guess. And remember that I'm here for you, alright?" She wrapped her arm around Jerri's shoulders and squeezed softly before she kissed the woman's cheek. "So dry your eyes. I've been on this domestic kick recently and have about forty-thousand batches of brownies, cakes, and other chocolate delicacies that will make the entire ship fat but a hellova lot less depressed." Jordan smiled slightly, brushing a tear from Jerri's cheek. "I'm sorry about what I said, hon, I really am, these past few months have been hellish. I don't like being angry with you."

Jerri sighed softly before turning to give Jordan a half hug, "I'm sorry, too, Jordan. For what I said, and for my hellacious timing. It's been hard...not having you around."

"Yeah... now come on, no more crying on the floor of a random dead-end corridor, okay?" She muscled Jerri up to her feet, arm around her waist. "You're coming back with me and eating chocolate until you're smiling or in a diabetic coma, whichever comes first. Then I'll go put my hormones to work and beat him up if you want me to. I'll recruit Arel, too, though that might kill the poor guy..." She frowned. "Did you hear? About..." She rested her other hand on her stomach, then stopped and her face darkened. "I'm sorry. I'm making it about me again, I'm trying to be better with that."

Jerri smiled slightly, though the effect was rather marred by the tear tracks down her cheeks, "In this case, Jordan, I think you can be excused from that little stipulation. Jii told me. I'm so happy for you! I was happy for you even when we weren't on speaking terms...I know how it's been for you." She gave her friend's waist a slight squeeze. "But...I think we can keep from killing Daniel at the moment. He's...I just wish he hadn't decided to do that to me...today of all days."

"Why today of all days?" Jordan questioned, raising an eyebrow. "It's a wicked thing to just spring on someone any day."

"Eh, it's...nothing. Well, no it isn't. It's kinda stupid," Jerri replied while rubbing her hand against an invisible stain on her slacks.

"What, hon?"

"Well, I found the Chisholm exactly four months ago today," Jerri said, rubbing harder at the invisible stain. "This thing just kinda...well, sullies it for me somehow."

"It's not stupid, Jerri, if it's how you feel. Christ, I'm turning into a bloody counselor..." A pause. Jordan grabbed Jerri's wrist. "I don't know what you're rubbing at, but you're not going to turn all Lady Macbeth on me, alright?"

"Sorry," she mumbled softly, looking down the corridor.

"Don't apologise," Jordan said, walking the Miranda's Chief Engineer down the corridor as she wondered, albeit to herself, whether she could call Jerri a friend again. Did it work like that? Apologies weren't something Jordan was particularly used to, especially when she was the one who issued it first. Were things forgiven that easily? With everything the way it was? "Let's just get back to civilisation..." A pause. "Jerri. Seriously. What's going on with you?"

A bitter laugh, "What would you like to know? I had a fight with my best friend over something stupid three months ago, haven't talked with her since then, had something worrying at my mind ever since. I've been wondering if I do drive everyone that I love away...if everything that's happened to me - from Mom and Dad, now Daniel, to you - is my fault. It sucks sometimes, Jordan, being me...and being as emotional as I am - no matter how I hide it. My worries and fears eat upon each other, driving my ego further down into depression. I've only recently come out of that again...but this...with Daniel...I suspect I'm teetering on the edge again. Sometimes I wonder if it is safer to be by myself...where I can't hurt anyone anymore...where I can't hurt you, or Jack, or anyone else I care about. What happens when I can't even save myself?" She turned towards her friend, or former friend, or however one called someone who had been hurt and in turn hurted by oneself. "What happens then, Jordan?"

"Well, then we save you, for you," Jordan replied. "It's really very simple. See, Jerri... human relationships are about taking risks. I was mad. I didn't mean those things. Sometimes, people have a string of bad luck. You don't drive people away. Overwhelm them sometimes, but, I suppose that's the one thing we have in common... it's not a bad thing, it's why people love you back, because you give so much. And it's never safer to be by yourself. We're social creatures, human beings; we need other people around us."

Jerri sighed, "Yeah. Intellectually I know that. But tell that to here," she tapped her chest over her heart, "It's been eating me up inside...and, well, guilt. Guilt over what I said to you, over how I never came to you to apologize...guilt over loosing my best friend because of shear stupidity. It's kinda funny, actually, that someone as intelligent as me can be so dumb sometimes."

"We're all allowed our moments, hon," Jordan said, smiling slightly. "I've certainly had my own." They stepped into the turbo lift. "Deck 2," she stated, and the turbolift whirrled to life. "You haven't lost me, obviously. You haven't lost Jack. In fact, he adores you more than anything. The man's been giving my dirty looks every day for three months."

"Heh. Well, I know that Jii's going to be celebrating in the streets when he finds out we are talking once again. Has he been after you as much as he has me?"

"Probably. Or at least, for a while. Until he found that I either ignored him or started crying. The thing about this pregnancy... thing... I cry at the drop of a hat over anything, it's ridiculous."

"You could also see it as a great excuse," Jerri mused as they started walking down the corridor, "Hormones. They do it every time..."

"Yeah, no kidding," she said. "I've been told it's either going to get worse, the crying thing I mean, or I'm going to turn into a 100% remove all doubt total bitch." Jordan shrugged.

"Heh. Well, I've been warned then," Jerri smiled slightly. "Though I'm sure I'll have my moments as I try to work through the mess that is called my life right now."

"Eh." Again, Jordan shrugged. "I heard that you and James had a nice anti-Kitty bitch fest... some Ensign heard you when you were going down the hall..."

She winced, "You heard about that, huh? Damn, I'm making a habit of that aren't I? I'm sorry...I was hurting. There's no real excuse I can come up with other than that. I'm sorry..." She repeated, taking the chance to look anywhere but at Jordan. She half suspected what she'd see there - hurt, perhaps, anger, disappointment? Something along those lines...and she had no desire to see that. That night had been one of her lowest, and bad mouthing Jordan had made the pain go away - at least until the alcohol washed away all memory.

"I hear about everything, one way or the other," Jordan murmured. "It doesn't matter, really, I mean, I'm sure I said some not so nice things about you." Truth was, she hadn't really. Not after the initial incident. But it didn't really matter, in the long run. "I just kinda wish you hadn't used Kitty, that's what my mother calls me, and that's it."

"I didn't, actually," Jerri said, turning towards her, "Use Kitty. I don't think of you as Kit or Kitty and never have. I know you probably won't believe me, but that's the truth. James did call you Kitty several times, but not me." Yup. She was scum of the earth, just the sound of Jordan's voice told her as much. Jordan probably didn't bad mouth her at all over the past few months.

"Eh. Well. Whatever, right, putting the past three months behind us. As far as I'm concerned they didn't even happen. So long as you eat brownies and look at sonogram pictures and pretend you can see features, that's all I care about." She smiled slightly as she paused at the door of her quarters, which whipped open at her presence. "After you."

Jerri smiled as she entered the room, "Not to worry, I think I can manage that."

"Excellent. All behind us then. Now where did I put that padd... ah yes..."

==Outside Operations Manager's Office==

Imanol folded his arms as he peered out of a port hole on the side of the USS Miranda. The lights of the starbase were bright and dazzling somewhat at this time of day. He was too far away to see faces but he could definitely make out the uniforms in the corridors which overlooked that particular docking bay. As he followed a group of young Engineers his attention was averted by a maintenance drone passing close by the port hole. Something told him Miranda wasn’t planning on staying the winter.

Jaal poked his head out his office and saw the ensign. "C'mon in," he sounded perturbed.

"Sir.." Imanol turned on his heels and followed the Commander into his office. He was'nt quite sure what to expect. He knew little of how the Ops department ran things and even less about Commander Jaal Jaxon, its Chief.

Jaal had a seat on the corner of his desk. His body language indicated annoyance, but the look on his face was more understanding than anything else.

"So ... wanna tell me what happened?"

Of course the Trill commander already knew, he just wanted Imanol's side of the story. Jaal figured this incident was either an accident or a prank gone wrong, but not something worth bothering Brex or Jii with.

Imanol took a look at the chair across from Jaxoms desk and decided against making use of it, instead he turned to face the Commander at attention.

"Well.. myself and Ensign Ariss were assembling an aquarium you see and some where between the circulation being cut off in my hand and..." He stole a look at the Commander. Perhaps it was best not to go into the details. "Well.. we happened to miss a few stages in the assembley. The structure was not capable of holding the water." He tried hard to hold in a smirk but a little one managed to sneak to the surface. He quickly offset it, bitting hard on his bottom lip.

"And?" Jaal asked expectantly. He was fighting back a smirk of his own.

"And.. the water spilled out, well exploded out." He waited to see if the Commander would jump in but he didn't.

'Exploded?!' Jaal thought to himself doubtfully.

"The main door opened and the water rushed out into the corridor and destroyed a number of crewmen in the process" He raised his forehead at the Commander indicating that his summary was complete. He stuck his chest further out and raised his head further to attention. The exaggerated pose was at least keeping Imanol entertained.

A confused look came upon Jaal's face which was quickly replaced by a quizzical one. "Exploded? How does water ... explode from a fish tank?" he asked clearly not convinced.

"Well, three hundred gallons just doesnt trickle out if you know what I mean, it nearly knocked me clean off my feet." He groaned a little "It freakin exploded." he looked again at the commander "for lack of a better word, sir".

Jaal allowed himself to chuckle a bit. "I'm 'well' aware of what that word intones. The Trill picked up a PADD that was on his desk and consulted it. "Let's see, your water ruined the carpeting in your cabin along with a good section out in the corridor." He looked at Imanol now with a mischievously raised eyebrow. "What should we do about your penance?"

Imanol shifted his eyes to a strange looking plant sitting in the corner of the room. He took several moments to think. He finally shrugged his shoulders after an extended period of annoying silence "Push-ups?"

Jaal shook his head, "That's too easy."

"How about sit-ups?" ventured the Hazard officer.

"Eh, not quite."

"Okay...?" he paused for a moment. "Push ups and sit ups?" he inquired raising an eyebrow.

"How about this," Jaal leaned a little from his perch on the corner of his desk, "You replace the ruined carpeting in your cabin yourself ...'and' the ruined section out in the corridor."

"Okaay" Imanol took a step back as if to leave but saw that Jaxom had'nt quite dismissed him just yet. "Im not fully trainned in carpet fitting"

"It's not hard," Jaal handed him a PADD, "Here's directions."

"Yes sir!" Imanol stuck out his chest over elaboratley and spun on his heels walking back into the corridor. There he would remain for several minutes. A young female ensign gave him a strange look as she passed. Turning back around he pressed Jaxoms door chime.

"Yeeeessss," Jaal called from inside.

"Where do I get the carpet from?"

Jaal rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "Try ship's stores."

"Of course!" Imanol managed to let out a devilish smirk as he nodded to the Commander before leaving. He quite enjoyed acting the fool sometimes.

Jaal smirked as well while he watched the ensign leave. Harinordoquy reminded him somewhat of what he was like when he was an enign.

"Old friends"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan

And Commander Navarre Shinta

Location: USS Miranda, Navarre Shinta's quarters

The Pathfinder series of starship was impressive, and it left James with a sense of wonder. Unlike the USS Galaxy, a refit of a vessel that was already close to its 20th year, the Miranda was on the cutting edge. There were no beige wall panels and maroon and gray carpets to offend the eye, but flashy grays, silvers, and other simple colours that shined and gleamed, capturing the attention of those who walked by. The corridors were not as wide, but roomy and efficient. This was a Dominion War ship, a marvel of beauty and strength.

James had no choice but to whistle. He was fabulously impressed. The Miranda was a beautiful ship.

And he was just in the civilian section, making his way to the quarters of an ex-crewmate.

~"Does she even remember me?"~ He found himself thinking, ~"It's been so long since i've seen her, and during that time I usually f**ked around during counselling sessions. I'm not sure she'll appreciate me coming in and saying hello."~

A countervoice in his head argued, ~"Come on, she didn't seem to mind me being around. I think she'll be pleasantly pleased to meet me. And when she hears about what has happened to me in the past couple of years, she might be very happy indeed. Come on... when do you ever get to see an ex crewmate and an ex counsellor at the same time?"~

~"Hmmmm... how many times did I ever want to talk to a counselor willingly?"~

James paused at the ex crewmate's door, and rang the bell. ~"Good point, but she's ok. I don't mind her. Hell, I like her. She's the first counselor I haven't driven insane yet. Might as well say hello."~

Shinta was on the couch with a novel. A rare thing these days that she was relaxing, or at least trying to relax. So she cursed when the doorbell rang. Couldn't people leave her alone when she had the afternoon off?

Navarre found herself face to face with a tall, blonde, stern terran male, his slate gray eyes shielded behind a pair of archaic wire glasses. He was in full uniform, bearing an extra brass ringed onyx pip she had never seen before.

The stern officer then smiled. Another rare sight.

"Hello Commander. Nice to meet you again!" James Corgan extended his hand out to shake, "Remember me? Lieutenant Corgan? PTSD? I saw that your ship was nearby, so I thought I would visit."

Her face brightened instantly, and instead of taking the hand she embraced him. "James! Of course I remember you, I thought about you often. How are you, come in!" She almost dragged him in.

He placed himself on a guest chair, settling his body on the comfortable cushions. Taken aback by her abrupt friendliness, James took it in stride. It was, after all, a counselor's job to keep the sunshine hose pumping while it was jammed up his rear end. It was the fact that Navarre wasn't too pushy that James tolerated it.

"I'm doing pretty good." James took quick looks at Navarre's room. Neat, as far as a family dorm could go. Well styled. He liked what she did to the place. "I'm a Lieutenant Commander now. Chief of Security on the Galaxy. Took the Advanced Tactical and Security course awhile back, and graduated in the 99th percentile... got edged out by a Vulcan, naturally." James jested, chuckling amusingly, "Have had some hairy incidents while I was the Chief of Security, but... i'm here, so i'm fine. And you?"

"I am a full Commander now and the chief shrink around here. I remarried and there is another daughter Anna Lynn, he is a nice guy my husband, a medical officer. Dare I ask about you love life?" Shinta said.

The smile on James face melted away, as his heart felt a sharp, ceasing second of a panic attack. Considering James Corgan's record for women who wanted him (and the disasterous results thereafter, with Commander MacAllen as a testament), women he wanted to be with, and how, somehow, every match was plagued with incompatibilities. And if that wasn't enough, divine intervention had to step in and personally screw the unscrewable aspects of his relationships.

There was also the pesky problem of James ending up with women whom always seemed to be a bad choice. A widow wanting to remarry too fast (MacAllen), a Romulan spy that wanted him dead or on his back (Tekri), a dominatrix (Princess DeV'oraH), a coma victim with a change of personality (Lexa Reece), a humble Andorian diplomat turned were-ass kicker (Mika sh'Sonora), and a midget with genius that skirted insanity (Rebecca Von Ernst). The list would do Tom Paris and Harry Kim proud.

James had to pick his words carefully. Navarre would exploit any crack he left open, and relationships was the one tiny, insignificant, mundane, unimportant detail that managed to be the twig that still tripped him up as he walked about.

"Healthy enough." James kept his answer brief.

She felt his fear and uncertainty. "One more thing I should tell you, don't ask me how yet somehow I picked up the telepathic abilities the last year. So I am picking up on your unease about this subject. Also I am not your shrink anymore. I'm asking as a friend and if you really don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me." She smiled.

While she felt his fear and uncertainty, he felt his jaw loose all tension and his eyes bulge. Talking to telepaths was difficult enough, and keeping secrets from them required a certain amount of diplomacy and carefully chosen thoughts and words. It also required that James also knew she was a telepath in the first place.

His mind naked and shamed, James replied, "Iiiii... yeah... about that. I'm still single, technically."

"Nothing wrong with that, that is if you want to be single."

"Well, there were a couple of women that I liked, but it was always at the wrong time. Or, there were women who liked me but... it was either the wrong time or I wasn't interested enough. I had a tendancy to screw up as well, and so far..." ~"HALT!"~ James imaginary voice quivered, ~"She doesn't need to know that much."~

James promptly ignored his intuition, "I was going out with Lexa Reece for awhile. Remember that?"

"I remember." She remembered he had been very much in love with the woman.

"Well, she fell in a coma, and she wasn't the same afterwards. We had to break up because we both realized we were different after a year of separation. That... she thought I was cheating with Princess Dev'Or'ah, who was trying to force herself on me in the way that only Klingon women can..." James said with a shutter, and a sense of pure honesty that Shinta could easily telesense.

She didn't even feel the need to laugh. Maybe if somebody else had told the story she would have. Yet with James there was so much tension, so much bare honesty. She was actually amazed that he sat here and talked as if no time had passed between them.

James paused her, "Hold up, it gets better. I have a crush on our former first officer, who vanished without a trace, and I was censored by an Admiral when I tried to find her. Then, Commander MacAllen had a crush on me, and when I told her I wanted to be friends she went into depression. Somehow in the entire mess, I have a femme fatale Romulan attache who wants to sex me up nightly. And last mission... I finally meet a woman who was normal... but she's going to lose her job as an Ambassador because of a political coup."

Sighing, he added, "I didn't want to tell you because not only is this story pretty long and confusing, i'm also rather embarrassed that my love life's a f**king mess."

"You haven't had an easy time the last couple of years. This last woman, you said was going to lose her job, doesn't mean you have to lose her, does it?"

"Hmmmm..." Grumbled James, "I suppose not, but she wanted to clear her reputation with the Liason Corp for what happened on Gryphon. She also didn't want me to help her. She was so insistant. I had to honour her wishes. But if it helps, she promised to contact me when the Liason Corp made a decision."

"There you go. It doesn't sound all bad." Shinta stated.

"Well, it still doesn't solve the fact that Rebecca is gone and I can't do much about it. She was one of my best friends on the Galaxy, and I wanted to say so much to her before my feelings for her became fleeting, but she is gone. What do I do about that?"

"Write it down. I know it sounds corny, but for a lot of people it actually helps. Doesn't matter if you send it or not, you would get it off your chest."

"Hey... that's a good idea." James' eyes shined, "It's too bad I don't have a PADD on me... waitasecond." Another light in his eyes shone in, one of realization, "I get it. Now I get it... oh dear... are you saying I have a hard time getting things off my chest, or admitting to myself how I feel about something?"

"yes" she said a little bit bemused, she thought neither of them wanted a counselling session.

"Well, that would explain Tekri." James grumbled.

"Who is she?"

His smile was a foxlike smirk, "Tekri, she's the Romulan I told you about a minute ago. We hang out together sometimes. Not a serious relationship, actually, but we do have some fun times. You know, it is more like we enjoy each other's company, in a casual fashion. Nothing to worry about, no worries about hurt feelings or trying to win each other over. We just like to be with each other. It's relaxing, fun, even naughty." He sighed deeply, wondering how he could put it to words, "I like her. We get along well... besides the time we drew pistols on each other...."

"Tell me more about her, it sounds like you really like her." It sounded like he was in love with two women.

James looked at Shinta, deadpanned and warningly, "Don't ask too much. Some if it is classified. I don't mind having her around... besides the whole phaser drawing incident. She's exciting, fun, a great sport all around. She takes me out to movies... how many women do that for their guys? But you know what? It's not that serious. We keep each other company... I can't blame her because she's far from home. But its not as serious as I would like, and since I still have a thing for Rebecca, I feel like a creep for being with Tekri. What's your insight on this?"

"Why mention Rebecca and not the other lady? And I'm not giving you therapy, I am not your shrink anymore."

He replied, "That other lady comes by at most inconvenient times. I'm always either with someone else, or I am trying to woo someone else. Besides, i'm not used to this. I've always been taught that you can only have feelings for one person and one person only. Yet I turn around and someone goes after me, or I find someone I enjoy being with and that sparks something else.... Hell! I'm a love fool. My heart wanders, yet my morality demands I choose. What gives?"

"It's not unusual to have feelings for more than one person. Yet your morality is right, eventually you are going to have to choose." She said.

"Either way, love can be one hell of an inconvenience sometimes." He rubbed his forehead and temples, trying to wish away pain. Then he said in a raised up manner that spoke of giving up on a futile struggle, "Aye yay yay! How I manage to be traumatized by Borg yet still stay sane when confronted by the fairer gender... beyond me."

She stifled a laugh.

He laughed off the conversation, trying his best to keep a sunny disposition. "Hey, enough about me. I want to know how you are doing. Tell me about the kids. Tell me about your new husband." He then jokingly played up a threatening growl, "He better be a gentleman..."

"He is, he actually is an English Lord, and a doctor. The kids are fine, growing up too fast."

"That sounds great. Say... do you remember Lieutenant Commander MacAllen?"

"Yes, we keep in touch. She is a friend and I am godmother to her eldest."

He smiled, "Well, I'm her children's godfather. I take them to the holosuites a few times, help her with the babysitting, do the male role model thing. I don't have as much time as I would like them to have with a male role model, but I try to help as much as I can. You should contact Rose, see the children. They are growing up so healthy and strong."

"And how is rose? I am meeting her later today. I didn't speak to her much after her husband died."

"Oh..." James voice trailed off, "Ummm... she wanted me to marry her. I liked her as friend, but I thought she was rushing towards me after being widowed so soon, and well, I didn't feel the same way towards her. I made her very angry afterwards, and she became very depressed. I told her to go see Counselor Dallas, but i'm not sure if she is. We tried to talk out what happened, and we are still on speaking terms. Heck, she didn't pull away my godfather priviledges, so something must have gone right. But still, I don't feel that our friendship is stable. When one confesses love to another and is spurned, everything gets awkward afterwards."

"I am sorry to hear that. I guess she's lonely. It's a pity you don't feel the same way about her."

"Aye, but if I gave her what I wanted, it would have hurt us both."

"It would indeed if you are not in love with her."

"Aye." James sighed. He wished for a change of subject.

"How are you enjoying your work. Chief of Security, I'm proud of you." She smiled.

"Thank you." James cracked a weak smile back, "I upgraded my training and got the Chief of Security job after the big refit. It was great to be back home, but the job was hard to adapt to. I mean... when I was an Ensign and a Lieutenant, all I had to worry about was myself and a few mates I was fighting with in my squad. Now, i'm in charge of securing an entire ship. God, what a change. But its not an easy job. I have responsibility for my staff. Therefore I hold at least a tacit responsibility when they are hurt... or even killed."

Mournfully, James confessed, "I lost one of my best security officers during the Gryphon incident, and I feel some responsibility. However, I do my best, and to be able to work with people of such character... I feel honoured."

"Try to put it behind you. You cannot be responsible for every death. I know how it feels."

"Yeah... you're right." James nodded. "Shinta, thanks. You help put things into perspective."

"Any time." She said smiling.

James looked upon his wrist crono. Eyes widened in panic. "Crap! I have to go. Sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting with your security and hazard team officers. Look... I'll see you again soon, ok?"

"I certainly hope so. You must come to dinner soon." James was already running away however. She smiled, he had not changed much.

=/\= "Fast Friends" =/\=

Lt JG Lorian Vas
Ens. Oscar Lanzo

** USS Miranda: Deck 14, junior officer's quarters **

Ensign Oscar Lanzo strode through the passage, his hands gripping either end of the towel that was wrapped around the back of his neck. His short dark hair was damp and a bit mussed from his workout in holodeck five. In the few days he'd been aboard Miranda, he'd steadily resumed his old workout schedule. Something told him that serving aboard one of the most famous ships in the fleet was going to be physically demanding.

Oscar wiped his brow with one end of the teal-colored towel just as he reached the door to his quarters. He then ran his fingers back through his hair and stared at the door. Reaching out, he tapped the control and the doors swished apart.

A sharp "yip!" startled him, causing him to stop midway into the room. A dog???

In fact, the dog was a beagle, approximately nine years old. It -- no, he -- padded up to Oscar's feet and stared up at him, tail wagging. The ensign was what you would call a "Dog person," and the beagle could tell. Oscar knelt down and offered his hand for the dog to smell. A sniff and quick lick later, and the ensign knew he had passed muster.

Oscar looked up from the beagle and noticed, strewn out upon the bunk that he had believed to be unoccupied, an assortment of clothing and small items. Amongst the small pile on the bed lay what Oscar recognized as an extremely old Medical Tricorder, from the mid-23rd century. He also noticed several Trill Items, and a holographic image of a young Trill man in a cadet's uniform, posing with a handsome Trill male and a Trill Woman. The younger man would probably be his new roomate.

"Hi," came a voice from behind him, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Oscar spun round and saw the young Trill from the image, aged several years, and now wearing the grey, black and teal uniform of a medical officer. On his collar, catching the light when the officer moved, were two rank pips; one shot through with black, indicating that this man was a Lieutenant, Junior Grade. The distinctive spots of a Trill rose on either side of his head, peaking around his ears, and disappearing into his uniform. A mass of hair, dark and messy, covered his head, and two large, friendly eyes met Oscar's.

"A penny?" the Engineer replied.

"Never mind", laughed the other, moving forward and offering a hand, "I'm Lorian. Lorian Vas. Looks like we're roomies!" He nodded towards the beagle that was running around the feet of the two, and added, "I see you've met Doc. I hope you like dogs?"

Lanzo grabbed the doctor's hand and gave it a couple of firm shakes. "Good to meet you, Lorian. I was beginning to think I was going to end up rooming solo this tour! I'm Oscar Lanzo, engineer." Smiling, he looked down at Doc. "Doc seems like a good dog; I believe we'll get along fine. My mother has a soft spot for Jack Russells, so I'm accustomed to wagging tails and wet noses." He reached down and stroked one of Doc's warm ears.

"So," Oscar continued. "Are you new on the Miranda, too?"

"Yeah, I just transferred from the Sequoia. It's a Galaxy Class, great ship, although all we've done since the war is identifying and cataloguing the dead beings on Lomar, you know...from the Genesis wave."

Both men frowned, even Lorian, for whom anything but a smile was a rarity, and continued with a slight shudder. "What about you? Are you fresh from the Academy?"

"No, not fresh from the Academy," replied Oscar. "I served aboard a decommissioned escort ship - the USS Philadelphia - for two years on a special project. But other than that, well, let's just say this will be my first 'true' tour of duty on a Starfleet starship." He realized he was still holding onto his damp workout towel, and tossed it onto his bed with a little embarrassment.

He stepped over to the replicator and gestured inquisitively to Lorian, who shook his head, then touched the panel beside it. "One tall glass of water, fifteen degrees." Sipping his drink, the ensign from engineering looked at his roommate again. "I'm wondering how a Trill chose a terran dog for a pet. Have you spent time in the Sol system?"

"Yeah, I was born and raised in New Berlin. Spent a lot of time going between Earth and the Moon. I had a great view of the Northen Hemosphere from my room" Lorian laughed. Lanzo laughed as well, declaring "You're practically more terran than I am!!"

Lorian continued, "I settled down in San Francisco after my mom died, and my dad decided to ship off to Deep Space Five to continue his research."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," Oscar said sympathetically. The two men shared a brief moment of silence. "I grew up travelling a lot with my family, but our home was a habitat disk orbiting Jupiter. Have you heard of Lanzo Family Racing?"

"Of course! Who hasn't?" Lorian almost shouted, "I'm something of a shuttle pilot myself, I tried to watch the races whenever I can. Wow, I'm rooming with a Lanzo! I guess I'll be picking up some Engineering tips. So, do you pilot?"

"Well, I'm not one of the team pilots," clarified the ensign. He flopped down into the low soft chair. "I was always helping with the pit crew and with public relations stuff. My dad's workshop is where I learned to engineer custom engine parts. It's become one big part of my life's ambition and inspired my career choices. If the Miranda ever ends up near Jupiter, I'll have to show you around the facilities!" Oscar kicked off his shoes and took a big gulp of water. He observed silently to himself that his new roommate was turning out to be a pretty interesting guy; he hoped that his chattering on about his somewhat famous family didn't seem vain. Wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand, he asked, "So what inspired you to pursue medicine?"

Lorian pointedly gestured to his stomach; *The location of the symbiont,* thought Oscar as Lorian settled into a chair, running a hand through his hair in a vain effort to make is more tidy. Failing, as always, he answered Oscar's question.

"Vas, that's my symbiont," he explained with a smile, "was a Medical Theorist with his previous host, so I was pretty much a fountain of Medical knowledge as soon as we bonded. My dad was a Researcher, as well, so I'd spent a lot of time around medical stuff. Vas urged me to join Starfleet, and I was all for the idea! So, a few years, and a lot of work later, here I am! Course, spending three years around dead bodies, without any chance of saving lives can depress a guy. Let's hope this assignment is a bit more cheerful! Do you know where we're going yet? Doctor Khatroweena has advised the medical staff to be ready for anything, so it's probably dangerous. Someone on the Starbase even said we were going to Breen! Have you heard anything?"

"Amazing!" declared Oscar. "You haven't even settled into your new quarters yet and you've already met your department chief, gossiped on the Starbase about our mission, and had a mission briefing. I haven't even met commander Wolfson!" He looked at his glass of water and swirled the liquid around for a moment, wondering what, in fact, he knew about their upcoming assignment. "Actually, about the only thing I've learned so far is that this ship is absolutely crawling with beautiful eligible women. There's a 'commander from security named Sanchez, and I swear she would like to take my head off. But she is a babe!"

*A dangerous mission...* Oscar belatedly grasped the Trill's comment. That would certainly be a change of pace for the young engineer on his first tour. "Breen, eh? I don't know much about them, other than what the Academy taught us about the Dominion war. They're a nasty bunch, aren't they?"

"A nasty bunch?" Lorian gasped, the frown returning to his face. Two frowns in one day was a lot for this Trill. "They've begun sugercoating at the Academy I guess."

The Trill leaned forward in his seat, and continued. "I was only in the war for a year, onboard the Sequoia. I only fought in six major engagements; three of which were against Breen Battlefleets. They have weapons that send electromagnetic pulses through ship circuits, disabling them in an instant. Then they have this...neurological weapon, that attacks the target's nervous system. In sickbay, during my first engagement against the Breen, the ship was hit by this neural weapon. It travelled along the gel packs, hitting officers at consoles. There were grown men and women, even Klingons, screaming. Screaming like children as...as their nervous systems imploded..."

Oscar frowned heavily. He had of course learned about the effects Breen weaponry could have on a starship, but the instructor hadn't divulged any details about the effect they could have on the crew! "Well, let's hope that your rumor mill turns out to be wrong. I'd be happier with Ferengi any day. I've dealt with Ferengi before; in fact the family business employs a Ferengi to do all of our buying and selling." Seeing the Trill's dubious expression, he explained, "you just have to know what motivates them. Ferengi love the idea of 'commission'."

Lorian gave a small laugh. His thoughts were still fixed on the memory of that battle. He would have to find a decent counsellor, he supposed. He wouldn't be the first officer, of course, who had needed counselling after that battle. His thoughts were interrupted when Doc began licking his hand, and whining slighly; dinner time. Lorian jumped out of his seat, the smile returning to his face as he noticed the look in Doc's eyes; if the dog could have smiled, he would have been smiling now. He crossed to the replicator, and ordered dinner for Doc, then set it on the ground next to the dog's basket, and watched happily as the dog set about eating. Lorian then turned to Oscar, and, seeing him smiling again as well, asked, "Do you know any good places to eat? I'm famished!"

The ensign smiled, even though a nagging thought was trying to break through to his foremost thoughts: he'd never been in battle before. His life had never truly been in jeopardy and this upcoming mission had a high likelihood of putting it there, if the rumor Lorian had heard was true. "Um, actually lieutenant Aria took me to this French restaurant on the station last night and it was very good. But, if you miss REAL Earth food, I did see a 'Nathan's' hot dog stand..."

Vas' reply was cut short by a voice over the com, ordering a recall of all Miranda personell from the Starbase. "All hands, return to duty stations." With a helpless shrug towards Oscar, Vas offered a hand to his roommate, pulled him from his seat, and together they left their quarters. "It appears," thought Vas as the two strolled towards the turbolift, "that I got lucky with my roomy."

"To Free Or Not To Free"

Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
Lt Cole Cantrell

Jaal Jaxom was in the Ops department manager's office 'almost' done for the day. In fact, as soon as he was done, he was leaving for home. He couldn't wait. He and Taalis 'needed' this vacation bad.

=====

Darkness had settled in the room with the viewport dimmed down as much as it could be.

He sat silently, going through the plan over and over again. Weeks had passed and so far no one had started suspecting anything, much to his own surprise. Cantrell rolled his head slowly, breaking the silence with sharp and deep cracking noises, as if he was getting ready for a fight.

Back in the Ops department, Jaal had just flicked off his terminal and neatly stacked a few PADDs on his desk. Gwyin would be taking care of a few things while he as away. He had complete confidence in his assistant. He stood up and headed for the door now. It slid open and ....

There he stood. Anger and menace seeping out like a corrosive cloud, breaking down everything around him if he stayed long enough. Cole Cantrell. As always he seemed ready to explode into violence, balancing over an abyss of death and pain. Just as Jaal opened the door, Cantrell's eyes were closed, only to open a second later. His gaze bore down on the Trill with relentless malice. "There you are.. Sunshine.." his voice was low and scarred, sounding like he had downed hundreds upon hundreds bottle of cheap rootgut over the years.

Jaal's eyes immediately narrowed. "What do 'you' want?" The Trill's voice had some of it's own comtempt.

The cyborg grinned in reply. "So much hostility.. you really should get that out of your system, Sunny.."

"Heh," Jaal almost snorted, "I intend to. Just as soon as I can get outa here."

"You have a problem.. " Cantrell replied without really explaining himself further. It was just too much fun to mess with the Trill to pass it up.

"Yeah I know and it's gonna be solved as soon as I get on that shuttle taking me home."

Cantrell's hand blocked the way as Jaal tried to go past him. The smile vanished from Cantrell's face. "Big fuckin' problems.." the cyborg added with the same deep and scarred voice.

Jaal inhaled deeply to keep himself calm. This was getting ridiculous. Didn't this overgrown weeny have any idea poeple were going on shore leave? He let his breath out slower than he inhaled. "Like .... what?"

"Like Jii.."

Jaal's eyebrow arched curiously as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door jamb. Since he couldn't go through the door, he may as well listen. "Start talklin'."

Step one of the plan had been taken care off. Get him interested. Act like a brute to make him more angry than cautious. All too easy with the kind of trackrecord his counterpart had. Those that knew about him despised him. The rest just stayed away. His arm continued to block the passage but he made it relax just enough to make it look more peaceful. "Do goodie Elaithin Jii is the spitting image of Big Bad Elaithin Jii." That was all he said. Jaxom was a smart man, he'd figure it out. If not - then he was probably the wrong man for the job.

Jaal was silent a moment digesting the tiny bit of information given. "This has to do with the mirror Jii and the real one then." Jaal's tone turned back to the professional one he used while on duty, "Explain please." If this was going to involve the captain, then Jaal needed more data.

"My my.. gold star for that one.." the cyborg chuckled, but there was not a trace of amusement in his voice. "What do those two have in common?" he asked the Trill.

Jaal rolled his eyes, "If this is as important as you're making sound, can the sarcasm for the time being, okay?" The Trill commander shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "They're both captain a starship Miranda? Well, one still does ..." then his mouth made an 'o' shape, "We never found the mirror one after he escaped with the others, is that it?"

"Close, but no dice.." the cyborg replied, immensly enjoying the opportunity the mess with the younger man. "If it walks like a duck, sounds like a duck and looks like a duck then it must be a... what?" he continued now that Jaal was so close to figuring it out.

Jaal's eyes narrowed again, this time not from contempt, but from curiosity, "Are you saying the Jii that's currently in command is the mirror one?"

"Pay attention, Bubba.." Cantrell snarled. "I'm saying if it looks like Jii, talks, walks, smells and takes a shit like Jii, then the fuckin' protocols in the datacore can't tell the difference."

Now Jaal understood. "Ohhh, so you're saying that if the 'other' Jii ever shows up again, he could order you around and you'd have to obey."

"There's a cookie for ya.." Cantrell snickered. It wouldn't take long for the Trill to understand the ramifications of that if he was anything even remotely similar to the Trill onboard the ISS Miranda. "Don't blame me.. blame the idiots that wrote the crap they call priority codes."

"I'm all too familiar with beauracracy," Jaal replied wryly. Then he added, "I take it you have a suggestion or plan to help prevent this from happening? Otherwise you wouldn't be bothering with a peon like me." Now it was the Trill's turn at sarcasm.

"What do we have to do?"

This was the critical part. The do or die so to speak. He had presented a scenario to the Trill that would be devastating at best. Jaal had seen the cyborg in action and knew what he was capable of. Letting something like that slip into the wrong hands would be very bad indeed. That was something Cantrell counted on. "Easy. Remove Jii's command priority." That was far easier said than done. In fact some experts, had they known the datacore existed, would probably have argued that it would be easier and safer to take a stroll outside the ship dressed in speedos than make alterations to a datacore. One of SI's best kept little secrets. A computer that could not be hacked. Foolproof. It recorded everything that happened to it. If new orders and protocols were installed it didn't overwrite the old ones. It just saved them in a new place. It was simply impossible to change the state in a datacore. Only add it.

Jaal looked doubful, "Just like that?"

"Just like that.." Cantrell grinned. "I know something the Spooks don't..."

Jaal unfolded and refolded his arms across his chest, "And I suppose you're gonna share this with me?"

"I know how to edit a datacore.." Those words was the same as saying 'I know how to hack SFHQ without leaving a trace.'

Now Cantrell had Jaal's undivided attention. The gravity of the statement the cyborg just made was not wasted on the Trill commander at all. "Shouldn't we tell the Captain about this?"

"You've seen the shit that goes on here.. No one knows what happened to Jii when he was away.. " the cyborg replied, feeding the conspiracy theories. "Fuck knows how he will react if the big bad wolf comes crashing down. Do you want to take that risk?" he asked the Trill, sounding less than happy about the whole thing.

Jaal was about to answer when the bosun's whistle sounded and the announcement about the cancelation of shoreleave came across the ship's sound system.

Jaal pinched his nose and groaned in disgust. Not only was he mentally stabbing a Captain Elaithin voodoo doll with giant pins, Jaal was weathering the telepathic storm of impressive curses coming from Taalis. **There had BETTER be a GOOD reason for this!** she sent.

**You can say that again Th'l'ya,** was the simple response followed by the best curses the Trill language had to offer.

The sound had not been a part of the plan, but the cyborg adapted quickly. It had come at a good time and if he played it right he could make use of it. "Your call..." he said and shrugged his massive shoulder.

With the cancellation of his much awaited vacation, Jaal had little choice in the matter now. "Looks there'll be plenty of time," he said sadly. "So, what do you need 'me' to do?"

And that was it. His prey had walked right into the trap. But he left the gloating for another time. For the first time in years he could see the end of his servitude. The grin faded from his face as he walked past Jaal and into the office. He ordered the datacore to activate the jammers, hiding them both from the surveillance system inside the ship. The Trill felt none of it as Cantrell turned around and faced him again. "Hope you have your braincap on, Sunny.. cause this is the advanced computer course.."

Jaal quirked a curious eyebrow. "Stop calling me 'sunny' and show me whatcha got." Now in a rather unjoking mood since the vacation had been called off, the Trill commander slumped into his chair.

Getting under peoples skin was one of Cantrell's favorite things. To pull out the more shady side of themselves into broad daylight. "Sure.. Bubba.. " the reply came with a sarcastic smirk to the voice. Mostly for show he placed his hand on the tip of the display standing on Jaal's desk. The screen came to life as Cantrell dumped blueprints and technical schematics into the computer. He made sure none of it would be able to reach the rest of the system.

It was indeed the advanced course. The technology was unlike anything used in Starfleet. It was organically designed, able to reroute past damages to the hardware and bypass bugs in the protocols but still maintain the command protocols. But the the system had one basic design - to control the person it had been installed into.

Jaal studied the display in complete fascination. This was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. He scrolled down and continued to take the information in with his jaw almost slack. "Whoa." was the only coherent thing he could utter at the moment.

The system was indeed foolproof. It would be the end of pranks, hacks or any other computer abuse should it ever be introduced into Starfleet. But on the other hand that would spur people into trying to hack it. But for SI it was the perfect tool. Data could not be forged or altered once entered into it.

Cantrell knew he was pushing Jaal into taking a huge risk. SI would not like it if they found out someone had been tampering with their toy. Not in his own universe and not here. "Interested?" he asked Jaal, knowing it would be hard for a man like the Trill to turn down an offer like this - a chance to work with experimental technology.

Jaal sat back and rubbed his chin in thought. "This ... thing? Is inside your head?"

The smirk dropped from Cantrell's face, replaced by a serious expression. Slowly he shook his head. "No.. between my shoulderblades..inside the chest."

Jaal nodded slowly. "I see." He leaned forward resting his chin in his hand with his elbow propped up on his desk. "I'm interested ... but a bit curious. According to the readouts, this is property of Starfleet Intel." He looked up at Cantrell, "Not people you want to piss off by screwing with their shit."

Had that quesion not popped up then Cantrell would have gotten suspicious. Jaal would be risking his career by doing this, or rather would have been if it had been the real Cantrell. He paused a few seconds as if pondering what to say. "Those assholes couldn't find a light in a dark room.." he snarled just for shows. "I have no love for them, but you've seen the readouts. you know some of the shit they've designed me for.. do you want me to end up in the wrong hands? Hell.. Jii is not even the top dog to the datacore."

The Trill commander looked back at the screen on his desk with his brow knit deep. "I really 'should' get some kind of permission to do this from someone a little higher on the food chain." He looked at Cantrell again, "Know what I mean?"

Jaal smirked. He was never one to capitulate totally to authority, well, unless it made sense to. "It 'can' be done ya know. I need to study the schematics and programing code for awhile. It'll take time though."

Cantrell poked his head with a finger. "It's all in here.. Forget the code.. there's maybe five people who knows how it works. You only need to follow my instructions..I'd do it myself, but I can't bend myself that far...."

Jaal rubbed his chin again. He'd been trying to judge Cantrell's character."Just one more question."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why'd they put that thing in you in the first place."

As far as Cantrell had been able to tell, the reasons had been the same for both of them. "I was too good at what I did for them to let me go."

Jaal watched Cantrell again through slightly narrowed eyes. Was he always this mean? Did the device make him that way? Was he a different person before the datacore was installed?

Something inside the Trill was dead set against any living thing being subservient to anyone or anything. Whether or not to free this officer of this 'datacore' device would be one of the most difficult decisions Commander Jaxom would make.

tbc ...

"Boiling Point"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~

Imanols helmet hit the glass locker with a bang causing the glass to shutter in its mouldings and crack down the middle. The sound reverberated through the cavernous locker room for several moments. Harinordoquy sat still on a bench in complete silence, oblivious to the deafening noise, for he was the one who created it.

Moments earlier Imanol had arrived for duty and on discovering the empty Hazard center he wandered over to the notice board. Its read: 'All active Hazard personel report to holodeck six for operations. Non active personel are surplus to requirements. End Memo.'

On the bench Imanol stared face forward in a trance. Thankfully the locker area had been emptied. His situation was reaching a critical point. He was unsure how much longer he could keep a lid on his anger and frustration. He was worried for his own sake and the sake of those around him should he blow. The launching of a helmet while frighting to some would'nt even contrast. He sat with his back to a cold locker. There must be someway he could let off some steam.

<<Holodeck Two>>

Imanol mounted his red Ducati as the sun went down on the plateaus and dusty terrain of New Mexico, North America. Starting the bike he fitted the black helmet onto his head and listened to the growl of the engine as it heated up. Next to him was Trask Hansen, Earths record breaking world speedway champion from 2262.

The race was no contest as Trask finished a clear 14 minutes ahead of the Hazard officer. That was generally how it normally finished up but todays run lasted two and a half hours. Imanols time was steadily improving.

Imanol looked at the dial as the two bikes purred along some dimmly lit city streets. 449 mph was the maximum speed reached by his bike, Trasks would no doubt have a couple of more digits but he was proud of it all the same. It seemed the more angry he got the better his times became. ~Trask must have been one pissed off mother f*cker~

As the chime sounded indicating his time was up Imanol ended the program and headed for the gym. There was no better way to simmer down than to drain all the energy from his body.That was a long arduous process in itself. One which would last him most of the afternoon.

Sitting in his quarters at the end of the day Imanol spoke for the first time. "Computer, when is my next appointment with Commander Shinta".

Computer, "Tommorow 1330 hours"

He retreated to his bedroom hoping to fall asleep and avoid any conversation or friendly chat with Ensign Ariss. He'd be returning from duty soon and keen on giving Imanol the latest on the search for Rayna's husband.

Imanol closed his eyes hoping morning would come quick and the session with Shinta. A strange wish for someone who detested counseling as much as he, for once though he needed someones help.

"close encounters of the not wanted kind"

by
Koen as Lt. James A. Brooke, aCMO

and
Ian as Cmdr. James Mitchell, CScO

This was going to be fun, Brooke thought. In just a few moments, Mitchell would come to sickbay for the checkups Cat had ordered. Brooke had prepared, the scanners were ready to do their job, including the scanner above the biobed, with which he intended to take some scans while occupying Mitchell with other things. He even had an explanation prepared in case the Chief Science noticed.

So much for the chips and crackers.

Outside the main bulkhead doors of Sickbay there stood a man with fists clenched, his face flushed red. Anyone who came near him or looked at him funny were met with an angry glare tight enough to melt iron.

James had stood outside these doors for the better part of ten minutes, hateful of the orders from the feline to come down for physical testing based on the planned parenthood of Arel. She'd planned it, or demanded it, or did whatever she could to make his life miserable.

Worst of all, he worried what they would find in him. His energy levels had been more powerful of late, giving him only a minuscule amount of sleep-time at night. The next stage in his evolution was coming, but to what, he hadn't any idea. No amount of delving into the memories of either the host or remnants of the symbiote had produced anything of import.

He punched the panel. Might as well get this over with.

As the doors slid open, he was greeted by the one person whom he hadn't hoped to see in this element.

"Lord Brooke, I presume?" He snaked out the title, letting it drip in snide sarcasm. "Still out to ruin my good name, I take it? Don't feel you've done enough?" He crossed his arms defiantly, staking a spot on the carpet that he wouldn't budge from, unless it were to jump across the room to strangle the ingrate who had come so close to ruining everything for him. Let him scream rape then!

"That's correct, commander," Brooke said, his stiff upper lip English DNA going fully active, "if you would be so kind as to take a seat on this biobed, commander, then we can get it over with as fast as possible. As for any complaints, you should see Cat. She's the boss around here."

"Can't stand up for yourself, pansy-ass? You sure know how to run your mouth when no one but your whiny wife is around." He spread his feet apart in a more balanced stance. "I think you should make me sit on that biobed, *Lord*, for I can't see how anyone in their right mind would assign you to managing my check-up. I don't have any confidence in your ability to tell the truth." A thought squirmed its way into his head. If Brooke found something, James could contest it on the basis of personal bias towards him.

"Then the feeling is mutual," Brooke said, trying to keep his anger in check. It wouldn't do him much good right now.

"Whatever. You still owe me a formal apology on the books, LORD. You're lucky I haven't resigned my commission and 'formally' strangled your ass out an airlock."

"Try whatever you like," Brooke said, "but for now, lie down on the biobed and shut up. By the way, we've taken some material from Arel's baby and compared it with the DNA in your files, and it's a definate match."

"With you analyzing it, it's probably a fix. So... sorry, Lord, your word means about as much as the hemorrhoids you flare up in me every time I see you. A burning itch that needs to be removed as quickly as possible."

Brooke said nothing, but took his tricorder and also switched on the biobed scanners.

"So tell me, how's your wife and my kid? Poisoning his mind against me, too? Oh, wait... that kid you want." The Bajoran smirked, his hands sweaty and clenching under his 'pits. By the Prophets he was shaking underneath. This close to Brooke and he hadn't ripped off a limb to beat him with it yet. His counselors on earth would have been proud.

"Just don't move," he said, continuing to work and ignoring what Mitchell said, while trying not to get too angry.

"Whatever. You're still a coward who'd best watch his back lest an accident occurs. You'd best hope the real boss in your family protects you." He took another step forward and drew up real close to Brooke. Close enough to stand over him and feel his breath on his cheeks.

"Poke or prod me in the wrong spot, Brooke, and I'll shove whatever instrument I can find so far up your prostate you'll hold a record." He sniffed. "And brush your teeth would you? I can smell the turd you licked off Cat's ass for her today."

Brooke let out a breath. If that idiot wanted to play, play he should. But Brooke did wonder how an ass like that was ever made department head. "Just... lie... on... the... bed...," Brooke said, "and remember, commander, that when it comes to getting at people, you might have the hate, and even the inventiveness, but I have the resources. Now stay still." The brain scanner was also working, and Brooke hoped he got some good stuff from it. Things he could show to Cat.

"If you're already damn sure I'm the father of that bastard child, why am I here?" Knowing Brooke, it was a trick of some sort. Shinta's lapdog was most likely running outrageous tests to find something to satisfy the real man in that family.

"For testing," Brooke simply said while the tests finished. "There we are," he said, "that wasn't so bad, now was it. I even didn't have to prod or poke you. Wonderful thing, technology."

"So are phasers. Wonderful thing, the disintegration setting." He jumped off the bed and glared the muffin in his eyes cold and true. "If I find that you doctored any of these results to make life for me even remotely unbearable, you're going to find yourself under another test. One that could end your life. Feel free to climb back on your noble horse and get out of my face, before I use that smirk of yours for toilet paper when I break you in half."

"Try," was all Brooke said. He knew that purely physically speaking, Mitchell was the stronger of the two. But Brooke wasn't without resources, and if there was anything on those scans even remotely strange, he would make sure some admirals he knew got simple message.

"Frell off. You're excruciatingly close to losing something important to you. Your only saviour is the fact I can't find a magnifier around here to locate it." He tugged his uniform jacket tight as he slipped it on. "Give your whore wife my regards. Be sure to let me know if I've caught a disease from her."

Without waiting for an answer, he left Sickbay without another word.

Brooke shook his head. There was something seriously wrong with the guy, something that went further then the fact that they didn't really liked each other. He shook his head again and went to his office to check on the results of the scans.

Commander Jack Dawson
Asst. Chief Engineer
USS Miranda

Commander Gail Dawson
Operations Specialist/Hazard 3
USS Miranda

"The Date That Wasn't"

To say that Jack had been looking forward to this evening would be a severe understatement. It had been months now since the incident with the Mirror Universe, yet the mental wounds from the encounter were slow to heal.

His counterpart had done a real number on Gail, but from what he had heard, she had returned the favor, once again forcing him to be thankful that he was on her good side.

Freshly shaven and showered, he walked over to the mirror to check his hair one last time.

"You know, I don't think it's possible for your hair to have moved from three seconds ago when you last checked it," she scolded him.

He laughed. "Well, I want it to be just right for my first date since the twins were born."

He walked out into the bedroom and came to a complete stop when he saw Gail. He let out a low whistle. "Hey, good looking, you come here often?"

Dressed in a white, flattering evening gown, Gail blushed. Jack put his arms around her and kissed her gently. "Flatterer," she teased.

"I plan to be much more by the time the evening is over," he winked.

The door chime rang and quickly dispelled the magic of the moment. Jack sighed. "Enter?"

Bazailt walked through the doors. "Hi, Jack! Hi, Gail!"

"Bazailt, thank you so much for agreeing to babysit for us," Gail said as she walked out into the common room.

"No problem. Mom said that you guys needed a babysitter and I figured that I would be helpful."

"Well, we appreciate it. Now, the twins are down for the night so they shouldn't give you any trouble. Jack will have his communitcator on him if you need to contact us. If that doesn't work, try contacting Commander Wolfson."

"Sure thing, I can handle it," he smiled.

Jack looked fondly at the Bajoran kid. He had turned out alright, despite the choices of his father. He took Gail's hand and headed for the door. "I'll talk with Commander Wolfson tomorrow and see if she'll let me take you on that tour that I promised you. And Bazailt, make sure no one else comes over. Normally, I wouldn't mind, but tonight is special."

"Don't worry, You can trust me."

"I hope so, otherwise instead of that tour, you'll be scrubbing the plasma manifolds with a Q-Tip," Jack teased.

Bazailt's eyes went wide and then he laughed. "Have a good night," he said politely.

[Starbase 212]

They sat at a table which overlooked a large window. The starry expanse that lay beyond just a few inches of transparent aluminum was both mezmorizing and romantic. As they waited for their food, Gail reached across the table and took Jack's hand in hers.

"Thank you for this."

"For dinner? We'll let that judgment pass once we've eaten," he joked and then regretted it. He could see she was being serious.

"For the night off. I've felt so...so worn out lately. Now that we have the twins, it seems like life is going at warp speed and I've needed a chance to catch up. My heart just hasn't been into things lately."

"I know. Well, now that we know that Bazailt will sit for us, we'll have to take advantage of the situation. If not him, I'm sure there are plenty of kids on the ship that would be willing to watch two adorable kids. I mean, come on, they are our kids."

She smiled. "Where is our food? I'm famished!"

A small ensign wearing a red undershirt approached them. "Maybe this gentleman can help us. Tell me, kind sir, how long will it be until we receive our meal at this fine eating establishment?"

The ensign looked perplexed for a brief moment and then composed himself. "I'm not sure, sir, but I have an urgent message for you. The Miranda has been trying to reach you for hours. You're communicator is off."

"I know because I turned it off."

"Oh...well, I'm to tell you that all Miranda personell are being recalled. Your presence is needed in Engineering, Commander Dawson and your's with the Hazard Team, Commander Dawson."

Jack rubbed his face with his hand. "Thank you, Ensign. We will be returning shortly."

The man nodded and then left quickly. Being the barer of bad news was one of the more fun parts of Starfleet duty.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Jack began.

Gail held up her hand. "It's not your fault. These things happen. It's just part of being in Starfleet." She smiled. "It was good while it lasted."

They stood and he kissed her long and deep. "I am a fortunate man to have such a patient and understanding wife."

"And don't you forget it!"

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