"Smert' Shpionam" ("Death to Spies")

Major Wes Hammond,
Rogue Squadron CO/Rogue 1, U
SS Miranda

Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi
Vanguard Squadron XO/Vanguard 6,
USS Galaxy,

Pilot Tyten,
Flight Officer/Vanguard 5,
USS Galaxy

Ensign Doctor Mark Mnementh,
Medical Officer,
USS Miranda

Ensign John Ramirez Jr
Flight Controller,
USS Miranda

Thot Prann,
Squadron Commander,
Breen Triad Lead
Gravnor

Crewman Felger,
Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

--------------------------
USS Galaxy,
Transporter Room 3
--------------------------

After gathering the volunteers in the USS Galaxy's third transporter room, Wes Hammond, as the senior officer on the delegation, briefed the group. As he went over the intricacies of being onboard a vessel belonging to a technically hostile government.

As he rattled off the briefing he'd prepared, he looked over the assembled officers. He was a little surprised that half of the team consisted of fighter pilots, and another two were helmsman. (Though he recognized the Andorian as the former Chief Science Officer of the NX-07, which the Miranda had encountered on it's Gamma Quadrant tour, which had been Wes' first mission with the ship.) The medical officer was the only officer who probably didn't know how to fly.

Ending his talk, Wes left them with a few words of wisdom. "I think I can sum this up with these words. Keep your eyes open in every possible way." The mission was a trifecta. Diplomacy, Intelligence, and Counter-intelligence (looking for signs of treachery).

Tyten took a deep breath and steadied himself. He could not believe he had been chosen as one of the few that would be going over to the Breen ship. If he denied that part of him wasn't nervous, he'd be lying. When the Breen had joined the Dominion in its war against the Federation, it had changed things significantly. He had lost several friends to their seemingly unstoppable weaponry. The Breen were ruthless and heartless murderers. He wasn't being a bigot in his thoughts, only observational.

Checking his tricorder for the seventeenth time, he looked to the others for some sign that they were feeling as apprehensive about this as he was.

Jasmine leaned against the bulkhead, using it's solid strength to help bolster the emotions that she was feeling at the idea of going literally into the lion's den. A small smile appeared on her face as she thought how lucky they were that none of them were named Daniel. She looked at her wingman and smiled reassuringly. At least they were together.

The Betazoid looked at the others, her eyes lingering as they were apt to do on Wes. She privately thought he looked incredibly handsome in his uniform, and her smile deepened at the thought. She could only hope that this little recon mission would be peaceful...and not result in any type of fire fight.

They could say peace negotiations all they wanted, but she was taking that phrase with a rather large grain of salt. She almost, almost, wished that she could read Breen thoughts - then, perhaps, she could help her crew...even though it was against all her family's teachings.

"Now, remember, look them directly in the eye... if you can find it that is..." Crewman Felger, a representative of the Liaison Corps seeing the crew off with last minute instructions, touched a finger to his lips. "I'm not even sure if they have one eye, or ten, to be honest. Oh, how I wish I were going with you! Racing off into danger, guns blazing... going out in a haze of fire and bullets!" His face lit up in excitement while he shook his hands in a parody of handguns of the past; thumbs up, forefinger out, making POW effects. When Tyten, his Bolian features frozen in a grimace of stoicism, shared a glare with his XO, Heloi, directed at the crewman, they both shared a spoken thought out loud concurrently.

"SHUT UP!"

"Sorry..."

Wes shook his head.

Leaning against the wall next to Jasmine, he briefly gripped her hand. With everyone's nerves on edge, he was glad that the other pilot would be along.

Though their dinner date had been canceled by the sudden recall, they'd formed some sort of a bond since then, communicating via subspace most evenings. Together, they waited for the signal to beam over to Thot Prann's ship.

Ensign Mark Mnementh, Medical Officer from the Miranda stood tall and confident on the Transporter Pad. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and certainly one his parents would take pride in back in their Daystrom Institute decorated offices back home in Michigan. Being part of the peace envoy to Breen was noteworthy enough, even for them. But that was not Mark's interest in this mission. His interests, of course, were scientific.

The Breen were the acknowledged galactic authorities in all kinds of cryotechnology. Peaceful relations with the Breen could open up an exchange of medical knowledge that would spur innovation and research and thus have incalculable benefits for the entire galaxy. Of course, how far down the road those benefits were, Mark could not tell. It was definitely a leap of faith believing that these peace overtures had no ulterior motives behind them. The risk was evident, and Mark's primary responsibility was to treat and look after the others should their situation become precarious, dangerous, or life-threatening aboard Thot Prann's ship, while trying to obtain as much intelligence as possible. To that end, Mnementh carried with him his physician's field kit, which contained a medical tricorder, several hyposprays, and various medications among other equipment. He had also secreted away some herbs from Ba'Ku that he hoped would seem innocuous enough and not be noticed by the Breen scans. As a medical officer, he expected some leeway on this mission and tolerance from the Breen, but anything could happen. So just in case, Mark also carried a micro-capsule of a specially programmed group of nanites in his distal sub-molar that Dr. Khatroweena was kind enough to implant. All he had to do was tap his teeth in a coded sequence and exhale hard to release the nanites. As Mark stood on the transporter pad, waiting to be beamed to Thot Prann's ship, he desperately hoped it would not be necessary to use the nanites.

John's first away mission, and what a mission it would be. He'd been on the Miranda for little more than a year, as both a Cadet and now an Ensign. There would be a long way to go for him, but he anticipated a good future with that ship. This mission to the Breen ship. Trifecta, the Major had explained in his briefing. Although he had never had much interest in joining Starfleet Intelligence, despite his fathers suggestions (or because of those suggestions), he did enjoy getting involved in some holodeck recreations that were of this nature. Old Earth Movies about the Cold war and the British Secret Service were something that he'd seen a lot, and knew that if it came down to it, the only experience in this he had was from watching those films and replaying them. "That won't get me far", he muttered, not realising he'd spoken out loud.

--------------------------
Transporter Control Unit Aft,
Triad Lead
Gravnor
--------------------------

[Initiate Level 3 Bioscan on Federation arrival] The organic infused communication arrays on the Gravnor, the lead ship in the triad assigned to intercept and guide the two Starfleet ships echoed throughout the ship. The Breen shared all intercommunication within the triad in a method that some would associate with a Borg hive. The Breen bristle at the insinuation, of course, for they are in control of their cybernetic implants. They retain their individuality and use the technology purely for efficiency and productivity reasons. In a fraction of a second, several dozen key commands were relayed, initiated, confirmed, and enacted.

[Restrict access to all essential sectors.]

[Map genetic structures of the Federation personnel.]

[Implement quarantine procedures throughout Federation access points and mapped route.]

[Evacuate known air-breathers toxins from mapped sectors.]

[Initiate Command level lockout codes to Tactical, Engineering, Bridge, Auxiliary Control, Life Support.]

[Implement EVA procedures.]

Thot Prann, his neural implant connected through the web of arrays on the Gravnor, absorbed the activity preceding the transfer of personnel between the two ships.

[Boarding parties prepared to disembark.] A lone thought in the orderly chaos issued by the Thot broke through the monotony.

[Verify tactical status, verify intelligence, protect.] Prann issued his last commands to the boarding parties.

[Energize.]

And then they were gone.

"Possibilities"

Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin
Lieutenant Corran Rex

Lieutenant Corran Rex was always awed by the Stellar Cartography lab aboard the Starship Galaxy. It was, very likely, his favorite place on the ship. It didn't take a counselor for him to realize that the large open-air room, with a constantly-running holo of local space would be a comforting environment for a starfighter pilot. He didn't get to come nearly as often as he would have liked - difficult to find a reason, sometimes, and it was almost always in use by some member of the science staff.

"Commander Ka'ranin?" he called out into the orange lit room. It seemed to be full of rotating mist around his knees glowing from the reflected light of a large red orb projected off in the distance. It was obstructing his view of the small walkway out into the center of the seemingly infinite room.

"Kara'nin," a voice corrected, bellowing out for the center of this universe. Rex could see the alien silhouette several feet in front of him, his large wings readjusting, light reflecting off the edges revealing thier white-ness. The movement gave away his position. "It means 'new blood,' 'ka ranin' is an emphatic order for me to make something. And I am only a lieutennant."

"Sorry about that." the Trill replied with a slight wince. "I could have sworn the ships manifest listed you at a higher rank. Maybe you've been promoted and no one told you?" he asked with a grin.

His opinions were deemed less nessecary than than all the other department chairs; he clearly wasn't worthy of any attention, let alone a promotion, Cutter thought. This current project, slowly morphing into, essentially, the redevelopment of the planetary formation model from scratch, if he were capable of completing it would likely only merit a, 'Oh, neat,' from the Federation scientific community at large. Finally, he turned, looking at Rex over his shoulder, "Do you need something?"

"Right, then." he acknowledged. "I didn't see you at the staff briefing, so I wanted to find out if you had any information on the Breen System. If things go wrong and my pilots are going to have to fly into a furball, I'd like to know the local geography, so to speak."

~Caves, this guy seems a little.. Tense.~ Corran thought, wondering which of his other voices would reply.

Predictably, it was Vorrin. ~I think you're right, kid. Maybe he needs decaf.~

"That information would best be obtained by Tonik," Cutter said, returning back to his work.

"Well yes, that's true." Corran admitted with a nod. "Of course, he's not here. He's probably out with Gin." the pilot joked, trying to alleviate the scientist's mood with humor.

It did not appear to have worked.

With a heavy sigh, Cutter relented, "Very well." He reached towards the table console and grabbed what looked to be a personal eye-screen display device and placed it on his head. He lifted his hands in front of him, like

he was about to conduct an orchestra, and they started to glow, shining veins running up and down his twelve fingers, crisscrossing in a web over his palms. Rex could see now that the scientist was wearing a set of controlling gloves.

Cutter's hands suddenly jerked flat, and the slowly animating universe surrounding them froze; his fingers typed at an invisible keyboard and giant

floating screen appeared between the two men, a file registry. Saving the current program, he brought up another, Breen.

The orange mist dissipated, being replaced by a thinner blue-green fog that filled the room. Suddenly, a gas giant slowly moved through Rex's hips, meandering along its gravitationally bound path.

~ Fascinating. ~ the voice of Jalen, his first host, and a scientist himself, observed. ~ a truly interactive control interface. I question whether it could be adapted to..~

~Jalen, I'm trying to pay attention here. Your observations in my head are not assisting.~ Corran mentally observed patiently, knowing what the scientist was like.

~My apologies, Corran~

"The planet Breen orbits a dead star, a white dwarf, nine-tenths the mass of the Terran sun, temperature of 11730 Kelvin, radius just slightly less than Terra," Cutter began to recite. He flipped his hand, palms towards his face and slowly moved them inwards. The image before them followed, zooming in so that the star in question grew from a pinprick to about the size of a soccer ball.

"The cloud you see around you is formed from remnant hydrogen and helium gas from the pre-existing star, existing at vaccuum-like densities. With a temperature of over ten thousand degrees, the dwarfs Wien wavelength is in the low ultraviolet and therefore provides enough high frequency radiation to illuminate the gas," Cutter explained, he sounded very bored and slightly irritated.

~Very curious. White dwarf systems are... Exceedingly rare. Could you inquire for more details?~ came Jalen's mental voice once more.

"Lieutenant," Corran interrupted. "I'm told that white dwarf systems are.. Exceedingly rare. From what I recall, there aren't any known instances of life evolving naturally on one, is there?"

Cutter didn't flinch at the address of rank, something that he almost certainly would have objected to normally. Conciously, he was not aware of this ovsersight. Instead, he simply cast a slightly surprised look towards the fighter pilot, not expecting him to know any science. "There are a small handful," he corrected, "but, yes, you're right, they are very uncommon. I'll explain."

He cupped his hands, as if grabbing a ball of the gas, then pushed it to his left. The universe shifted, sliding down until the white dwarf that stood before them was replaced by a ball of ice. "This is Breen. It is located only one-seventh of an AU away from the star. It is not clear how this is possible," he explained, all contempt falling away for a moment and his scientific curiousity coming to the fore, "the pre-existing star, in its

elder giant phase would have surely engulfed any planet at this distance, frying away all the atmosphere and other volitiles, destroying any life which may have lived there. Typically, planets that are not devoured by a giant star are, if any change occurs, let loose from orbit and cast off into interstellar space, due to the heavy mass loss that occurs in the formation of a white dwarf. Breen would have had to have fallen in, a paradox. The current popular theory suggests that the Breen star was part of a binary system and that during the generation of the dwarf, the tenuously bound system was destroyed and the two stars drifted apart. Breen would have been a planet that orbited both stars at once, in a very large elliptical orbit and was caught by this star during the break up, eventually settling into this configuration. The question arises, then, how was life able to form in such an inhospitable system, survive the destructive nature of white dwarf formation and the transition into this orbit? This dwarf is only a few hundred million years old, certainly not enough time for intelligent life to spring up from scratch. Unfortunately, the single physical scientist stationed at the Breen Embassy is allowed to perform only very limited passive scientific probing; we will likely not be able to find an answer to this problem any time soon."

"From what I hear, we couldn't be able to trust any observations of anyone on-planet already anyways." the Trill snorted before the Fruna'lin continued.

"Well, I doubt the astrophysical community would allow the Science Coucil to assign someone they deemed incompetent to a post of such scientific importance. But even if that were the case, all equipment configuration and accompanying raw data is required to be sent to the Council data servers, so, it can all be verified by later researchers. The only thing to worry about is misguided interpretation, which I admit, is often the plague that prevents progress," Cutter replied, clearly expressing his views on the 'popular' theory, albeit in a very indirect manner.

"The planet, like I said before my digression, orbits at a distance of 0.14 AU. This is at the outer edge of the ecosphere, giving Breen a temperature of about 150 Kelvin. Breen is earth sized, however, and still geothermally active, giving it an average temperature of about 165 degrees, or just over a hundred degrees below the freezing point of water. Liquid water does exist, several miles below the surface of the ice oceans, which is home to some aquatic life." Cutter performed the zoom-in motion once more, increasing the diameter of the planet to thier hieght, about six feet. "As you can see, the star, from this distance, is considerably dimmer than the sun on Mars, so its days are like twilight. It has no moon, but the gas that fills the system casts light equal to two full moons. Neglecting the extremely low temperature, this makes agriculture extremely difficult. despite many years of operation, scientists in the Embassy have been able to learn very very little about the Breen and thier ecology, but I am not qualified to speak on those subjects anyway, and that's not really what you are interested in anyway, is it?"

"I doubt anyone will be shooting up little ice farms." the Trill replied sardonically, still fighting against Jalen's observations. The Breen system itself, the scientist in him thought - or maybe it was the poet - was as much a mystery as the people it had spawned. Jalen's thought's, however, were increasingly distracting him from his conversation with the science officer. It was starting to give him a slight headache.

"The second major body is a gas giant," Cutter said, zooming out and shifting the universe once more. In view now was the planet that had aquainted itself with Rex earlier, a large yellow ball of hydrogen. "It orbits at a distance of 7 AU and is accompanied by two major moons, and over a dozen minor planetecimals. The larger moon is very icy, and there is a Breen colony located here. There are colonies on most of the moons, but the major one is here. It is not very large because the temperature is only twenty degrees above absolute zero, about half as warm as Pluto."

"Other than that, the system is relatively devoid of resources, no other planets, no planetecimals, no asteroids, no Kuiper belt or Oort cloud. This is likely the reason the Breen are so expansive in nature, in order to obtain resources they lack within their home system."

Jalen leaped to the fore then, and the Trill's entire body language shifted.

Instead of the relaxed pose of a fighter pilot, he now had a much straighter and stiffer posture, and his practiced eye looked over the hologram before him. "Has the possibility been considered that the system is artificial?"

As Rex tensed, Cutter seemed to relax. Scientists really are their own species, comfortable only around thier own, interested in only their culture. "Not in any publication that I'm aware of. The chances of that seem ... remote, at best. The Breen clearly do not have the technological capability to create a planetary system or affect major terrestrial bodies in any dynamical way, and all the evidence we have, though small in quantity, suggests that the species developed in this system. And of course, there would seem to be no motive for that, as there are planets with similar properties in natural systems," he said, easily throwing the idea away.

"Motive not to us, perhaps, but to those who may have had a hand in it's creation, it could be entirely different." Rex interrupted, holding a forefinger aloft.

"Well," Cutter offered in return "I suppose its no worse a theory than the commonly accepted idea. Though it is possible, for Breen to develop in that way would require very specific initial conditions. If it is true, the Breen have won one of the most improbable of lotteries."

"Then why has this notion acheived such acceptance, if it is as unlikely to occur as you suggest?"

"I should actually review the evidence before I strongly criticize," the Fruna'lin said, a disclaimer, subconciously weakening his position in face of the challenge. "But that model uses some now-obsolete dynamics and is ... just not thorough. It does not take into account the interactions between any other planetary bodies, and we know, obviously, that there was at least one more in the initial system, the gas giant," he said, waving his hand through the holographic gas ball. And there's no star that can be reasonably traced back to a binary partner, though that would be very difficult to accomplish after several hundred million years."

"Clearly an inaccurate assessment, then." Jalen nodded with Corran's head, seeming somewhat self-satisfied.

"Why do you suggest that the system is constructed?" Cutter asked, his curiousity finally getting the better of him.

"It's only a hypothesis, mind you." the Trill replied. "And a slim one at that. It'll need more consideration. But consider the evidence. A white dwarf star, which rarely spawns a system of accompanying planetary bodies, with planets, but none of the other things we typically see. As you say, no Kuiper belt, no Oort cloud, only the one planet... Nothing else? Are there any naturally-occurring instances of such in your recollection? They aren't in mine. After all that, as unlikely as everything else... This world supposedly spawned life? I'm not a Vulcan, but even I can tell that is some... Rather long odds, as Corran would say."

"Well, the remarkable thing is not that this star still has orbiting planets, but one so close in that still plays home to the life that would have had to arise before the death of the star. Larger bodies, like the gas giant, originally at a sufficiently large distance away can maintain thier atmospheres and gravitational bind, smaller bodies would be tossed out, so the loss of the icy asteroids isn't all that odd. It is odd that there are no other gas giants in the system, true, since they always form in groups. But, like I said, it is a mystery," the Fruna'lin responded. "You didn't really answer why, over all other possibilities, you think the system is artificial?"

"I'm not sure." the Trill confessed, beginning to pace. "It's simply the matter that it seems as likely as any other explanation. And I hate to see a good theory discarded without consideration."

Cutter sighed, raising his blue feathered brow. "You must spend a lot of time considering then."

"It just seem likely that it's a natural formation. Call it a gut response, I suppose. " The Trill simply shrugged. He was going to say more, but the sound of an all-hands call interrupted him.

["All hands, this is Captain M'Kantu. We have entered Breen space, and are being escorted to their homeworld. They are sending observers to come aboard, it'll be best to simply stay out of their way. Maintain yellow alert status. Bridge out."]

Rex shifted back to Corran then, and the Trill put a hand to his temple. "I'd best get back to the fighter bay then. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Cutter simply nodded, and returned to his work.

[BACKPOST] Occurs prior to arrival in Breen space.

"Rumble in the Jungle"

Primary Characters:

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

Ensign Miguel Sandoval
Chief Botanist
USS Galaxy

****

Arboretum
USS Galaxy

****

A dark figure stalked between the dense foliage of the Arboretum. The artificial lighting across the ship's non-essential areas had dimmed to simulate evening, as if such a thing were possible onboard a ship that never slept. Overhead, stars raced past, their distant, pin-prick light making the thick, fibrous leaves that formed a canopy over the path stand out, blacker than night itself.

It wasn't exactly safe for Savar to be wandering around the Arboretum at night. Tekri was still lurking, still observing him, still biding her time, and the ship's botanical gardens would be an easy location to carry out her mission. However, given what tr'Khellian had been hearing lately, he was more likely to discover Sub-Centurion Tekri and Lieutenant Commander Corgan in a rather compromising position than to come under attack from the Tal Shiar assassin. Besides, he was always on his guard, and Krieghoff was never far behind. Sometimes, often, in fact, Savar simply craved an escape from the sterility of grey bulkheads and the artificiality of the ship's revolting decor.

A faint rustle in the bushes out on the Rihana's right came to the attention of his sharp Vulcanoid hearing. The Sub-Commander froze, listening. There was the sudden glint of light on metal, and a figure began to rush out of the foliage, straight at him.

Reacting on instict, years of training at the hands of the warrior-monk employed by his family as head of household security took over. He barely bent his body as he sidestepped, twisting his right arm in a short, powerful arc to catch up the figure blundering towards him. Sweeping his leg around, he used his assailant's weight to twist them in the air, a squawk of surprise issuing from shocked lips as the figure span.

Footsteps pounded along the path as Savar brought down his other arm in a quick chop which instantly felled the disoriented attacker, who slumped to the ground, badly winded. Tr'Khellian was thrusting forwards by the time Krieghoff exploded into the clearing, and was about to ram his fist into the would-be assassin's windpipe. Simultaneously, there was a masculine cry of protest from beneath the adrenaline-drenched Romulan, and the Sub-Commander's arm was restrained with a grip that that of Death himself.

"Let go!" Savar bellowed, an icy chill spreading down his upper arm, where Krieghoff was choking off his circulaton. Immediately he suspected a trap, a conspiracy, and struggled to get away before the assassin could recover and deal him a mortal blow.

"Lights," Krieghoff barked.

Illumination was duly provided. Lying prone and dazed on the ground was not Tal Shiar agent Atole Tekri, but a swarthy-skinned, frightened-looking young man in Starfleet uniform. "It's just Ensign Sandoval," Victor pointed out, in his flat, unemotive voice.

"He had a knife!" tr'Khellian protested, still trying to get away.

Krieghoff released him. He nodded to a fallen implement lying a few feet away. "Pruning scissors, sir." A pause. "Used to trim the plants."

By this time, Miguel had scrambled backwards, eyes wide as he stared at this mad Romulan. Savar, feeling both peeved and foolish, waved at Krieghoff dismissively and brushed himself down. "False alarm then," he said, gruffly, the after-effect of the adrenaline rush beginning to manifest itself in unpleasant trembling. "I apologise, Ensign. Are you alright?"

The real question however was if Miguel's undershorts were still 'alright'.

What had begun as a realatively innocuous trip up to the Arboretum to check up on some recently transplanted Andorian Moon-Blossums had turned into something out of RAMBO vs GODZILLA.

The blossums, in fact, had been performing better than expected, and Miguel had been in the midst of trimming back some errant growth with his ever present garden snippers when somebody reached into the bush where he'd been working and literally turned his world upside down.

Miguel hadnt even registered that he'd been attacked when he suddenly found himself flat on his back, (crushing a poor little plot of dandelions beneath him) looking up at the dark outline of a snarling alien silohetted against the Arboretum skylights.

The poor botanist was still working out whether to feel sorrier for himself or the crushed dandelions when yet another snarling antagonist burst from out of nowhere to join the fray.

~~Madre de Dios~~~ Miguel swore to himself, ~~~They've turned by gardens into some sort of Galactic wrestling league!~~~

"Ensign?" Assailant #2 repeated.

"Si...I uh.....who? " Miguel replied intelligently. Part of him wanted to get up and inspect the damage done, but another part of his brain advised him that if he got up....they'd probably just slam him down again. "Uh...you are not going to hit me again are you?" he asked unsure of the answer.

"No, of course not," snapped the scion of the Romulan ruling class. He glared at Victor until the security officer backed up then withdrew tactfully, then looked back to the fallen and dazed botanist. "I am sorry, Ensign," he repeated, then thrust his hand forwards. Miguel flinched. "Please, let me help you up."

Uncertainly, the latino did as he was asked, and was soon on his feet, brushing soil from his uniform and picking the remnants of squashed dandelions off the seat of his pants.

Savar felt thoroughly ridiculous. Miguel was just a youth, barely old enough for his commission, frightened and hesitant. The Romulan looked into the wide, honest brown eyes of the Chief Botanist and felt instantly ashamed for having assaulted such an innocent, as if he had kicked a child. "I am extremely sorry, Ensign Sandoval," tr'Khellian said again. "I.. over-reacted." Over-reacted? Elements, if Krieghoff hadn't restrained him, Sandoval would either be dead or undergoing an emergency tracheoctomy and tr'Khellian would be in the brig! Savar put his hand out again, more gently this time, trying not to startle Miguel, offering to shake hands, which he hoped was the appropriate ritual of conciliation. "I am Sub-Commander tr'Khellian, the Acting Chief Tactical Officer."

~~~Sub-Commander? What in the name of the blessed Madonna is a Sub-Commander~~~ Miguel tossed the strange rank around in his head, a panicked expression washing over his face.

Back in the Academy Protocol 101 Lecture he'd been taught the Official Starfleet Ranking system of Lt Commander, and Full Commander, but nobody ever mentioned 'Sub' Commander before.

Miguel got the sudden uncomfortable feeling like he was caught unprepared for a pop-quiz in rank structures.

~~~Estupido!~~~ he berated himself, ~~~You are a 6 month old Ensign. . . . if the senor has 'commander' anywhere in his title he probably outranks you....even if his rank was 'Polka Dot Commander.~~~

Miguel straightened into a semblance of attention.

~~~Besides...~~~ his brain reasoned, ~~~He is obviously a Vulcan, and its always a good idea to treat them respectfully.~~~

He reached up to tap his communicator/translator pin. It wouldnt do to stumble over his poor English in front of a Vulcan.

"S. . .S . .Sandoval, sir." he answered, still trying to catch his breath, "Ensign Miguel Antonio Sandoval." He paused a moment. "Uh.....Botanical and Ecological Sciences."

Savar smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, concerned that Sandoval was still worried about further blows. Given the Botanist's mistaken apprehension of him as a Vulcan, the smile probably served to further disconcert him. "A pleasure to meet you, Ensign Sandoval, though I am sorry it was not under.. less violent circumstances."

Miguel experimentaly flexed his painful wrist. "Uh....is there anything I can help you with....uh...sir?" he gestured lamely at his pitiful display of smashed flowers.

"Ah... no," tr'Khellian said, glancing abashedly at the crushed petals. There was an awkward silence. "I am sorry about the flowers." More silence. "You are responsible for the arboretum?" tr'Khellian asked.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Excellent," Savar said, with a genuine smile this time. He loved the arboretum, spending much of his off-duty time here, and the idea that he had assaulted its caretaker made him feel all the more foolish. "I very much enjoy strolling here, Ensign. Starships can be so -- what is the word? Alienating." He smiled again at the irony of him using such vocabulary. "When all our shoreleave seems to be spent on iron monstrosities like Starbase 212, this is the closest thing to planet-side we have, the closest thing to nature." Tr'Khellian glanced around and let the silence enfold them again, in a pleasant way this time, the soft trill of the night-loving insects the only background noise. "You've done a superb job here, Ensign Sandoval."

Unsure of how to respond, Miguel only nodded. To be honest he was quite displeased with the sorry state of affairs the Arboretum found itself in thnak to poor funding, but perhaps........just perhap such nuances were not apprent to the novice plant lover.

"We...we are glad you like it....meaning my staff and I." Miguel replied.

After a half second pause, he ventured further, "So sorry to interrupt sir, but if you are being interested in the subject, I am expecting some Vulcan flowering cactus plants to arrive in a few weeks. Perhaps. . . .perhaps you would care to assist in properly tranplanting them?"

He pondered a moment and continued, "Also I am hoping to be leading a Botanical expedition down to the planet Bean when we arrive there. An extra hand is always welcome."

Considering the sad state of Miguel's staff, any extra hand was actually desperately needed.

"You mean *Breen*, Ensign," Savar said, rolling the 'r' on his tongue, "not 'Bean'." The Romulan's face clouded and took on its default status: brooding. "Frankly, I am surprised that any sort of Botanical expedition is possible - it seems unlikely that anything would grow in that frozen demon pit."

"The native plants are.. very hardy, sir," Miguel replied.

"Hmm. They'd have to be," Savar remarked drily. "Sadly, my presence will be required on the Bridge at Tactical. However, do let me know when the cactus plants arrive - I would be interested to see how you handle them." Tr'Khellian had still not picked up that Sandoval thought him a Vulcan - the difference between the two peoples was so marked that he would have difficulty in believing that anyone could make such a mistake. "Anyway. I must be going. Apologies again for the.. uh." Savar gestured lamely to the developing bruise on Miguel's head. "And the.. uh." The same gesture, towards the flattened dandelions, before another abashed smile and a hurried exit - stage left.

"Touched by an Angel "

A joint post by Mek and Chris

Starring:
Ella Grey,
Asst. Chief Engineer (USS Galaxy)

Jan,
Minaran Refugee (APC, USS Galaxy)

*****

One hundred and Thirteen years ago, the United Starship Enterprise under the command of James Tiberius Kirk settled into orbit above the dying world of Minara.

The worlds sun was a dying ember of the dullest red, its resevoirs of nuclear fuel long since depleted. The sun was preparing to become its own crematorium, preparing to flash into nova and take all its planetary brood with it into oblivion.

The Enterprise, arrving initially for the soul purpose of rescueing a stranded research team and thereafter documenting the systems destruction, soon became embroiled in a Maciavellian scheme by which the soul surviving inhabitants of Minara had become the pawns for a race of advanced aliens known as the Vians.

The Vians, for reasons they never explained, had elected to preserve only one of the multitude of Minara's indigenous species from the oncoming hellfire of the Nova. While on the surface this seemed noble, the methodology of the Vians soon was revealed to be positively grotesque, with torture and suffering straight out of Poe's darkest nightmare being quite the norm.

In this the Vian had selected a young Empath by the name of Gem to become the lab-rat in their maze of horor. The woman was tortured and teased in an effort to condition her to become 'worthy' of salvation from the Nova.

Quite unintertionally, Kirk and his fellow officers became embroiled in the midst of this nightmare, themselves being tortured and bruised almost to the point of death in an effort to tempt Gem into using her inate healing abilities to save them.

The fact that such exertion of this healing nearly killed Gem herself was of little consequence to the cruel Vians.

In the end, the waif-like Gem sacrificed herself to save the life of the Enterpirse's ships Surgeon, Dr. Leonard McCoy, but before she coooould be saved, the Vians bore her off to their otherworldy realm.

What happened next has always been a matter of conjecture for Starfleet.

The Minaran sun did in fact go Nova barely 27 hours later, and the USS Enterprise thorughly documented the complete obliteration of all life on that once beautiful planet.

Of the native race of Empaths however nothing more was ever heard.

Had the Vians lived up to thier promise and rescued the species?

Were the Empaths still held as test-subjects for the Vians mad experiments somewhere out in the universe?

Or were Gems people extinct? Destroyed in the fiery inferno of their suns last gasp?

For 113 years Starfleet waited for an answer.

*****

Unfortuantely for Ella Grey that long awaited answer came wandering around the corner and ran smack into her face sending them both crashing to the deck in a tangle of arms, legs and scattered data PADDS.

She made no noise as she fell but her face grimaced as she stupidly put out her hand to break her fall. Her wrist didn't break but it sure as hell was sore a second later.

And then she realized that her head was simply *throbbing* in pain.

Jan, the last son of Minara, and the newest addition to the Galaxy's civilian complement sat on his rear quite dazed from the blow and tenderly rubbing a sore chin.

That chin may have explained what had smacked into Ella's forehead, and why she was seeing stars.

Then again, she could be seeing stars because of the fact that whoever she ran into was drop dead GORGEOUS.

The Minarans (not that Grey had ever heard of them) were an innately fair and graceful race, and Jan was no exception. Though obviously a bit on the young side, it was equally apparant that his was slim and well proportioned with pale unblemished skin. Most striking howeer were the azure blue eyes that flashed out from under sandy blond hair were as deep as oceans of sparkling starlight.

Ella blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't hallucenating. Hot damn, she thought.

The lad gave his chin one last rub and then took in the fallen Ella with his piercing gaze. his pale features melted into the very essense of concern and apology and with the grace of a ballet dancer he rolled forward onto his knees to extend the Engineer a helping hand.

They both stood in one fluid movement and Ella was reminded of a memory when she danced with a talented young man at her introduction to society. Too bad she had been too young and stupid to do anything about it then. She smiled and pulled out her computer PADD. *SORRY, I WASN'T WATCHING WHERE I WAS GOING.*

The young lad's intense gaze did not waver for an instant as Ella was painfully tapping out her apology. Unfortunately for her, it also didnt waver when she tried to hand the small screen over for him to read. Those eyes didnt even glance down at the PADD leaving her feeling 'left hanging.'

She waggled the PADD a bit to try and get his attention to no effect. It was only when she gently poked him in the stomach that Jan broke his gaze and glanced down at the small device. Some more waggling landed the screen in his hands, however it quickly became obvious that the youth had no idea what to make of it.

Another one who can't read, Ella thought with a sigh. Where does the Federation find these people?

Jan slowly turned the PADD over and over in his hands, studying the smooth gray plastic of its makeup carefully. He gingerly touched the glowing blue text of Ella's apology with hesitant finger and jumped a bit when it made a soft BEEP.

Jan's eyebrows shot up in amazement and he tapped the screen again.

BLOOP.

A wide smile spread over his pale features and he shot Ella a look of sheer fascinated joy.

Ella raised both eyebrows as her eyes widened.

BEEP BEEP BLOOP BEEP BLOOP BLOOP BEEP BEEP BEEP BLOOP..........

Much to Ella's shock Jan's fingers danced over the PADD with delight and now her message looked something like this: *SORRY, I WASN'T WATCHGHSH S @$$FGGG%%###GGSG4#$$%@!!(4 DJ3 3(($$S%F** WHERE I WAS GOING.*

Oh dear, Ella thought.

Jan seemed on the verge of tears with delight over his new beeping machine, but at a sudden thought, a look of worry passed over his features. It was almost eerie to watch how the lads every emotion was so openly displayed on his face and mannerisms. With a deliberate slowness he one hand into a pocket and came up with palm closed extending it towads Ella. The look on his face was one of sheer wonder and reverance as if he somehow held a tiny Ark of the Covenant in his hand.

It opened to reveal.......

......a single crumpled up leaf ?

Ella tilted her head as she looked at it and then looked at him with a puzzled frown.

Jan watched her, apparently with baited breath to see how she reacted to his precious 'gift'

She looked at the product of her unintentional exchange. Somehow she thought he'd come out with the better end of the deal. Ella forced a smile and then pointed to his perfect chin, wondering if it hurt like her head. She raised her eyebrows.

Obviously the poor lad didnt understand. Gestures and facial expressions seemed to make no sense to him and he merely watched the finger she was pointing with, as if to observe if she was going to do a trick with it or not.

Ella shook her head and then sighed. Why, why did she always get stuck with the weird aliens? And why didn't he *SAY* something? She put the leaf in her pocket.

Jan watched with fascination as the neon lights of the corridors danced in the golden strands (she'd recently highlighted it) of Ella's shaken hair. Experimentally he tried to 'toss' his own hair but to little effect. By this time Ella was looking at him strangely, her head tilted sideways in confusion. Jan tilted his own head in imitation, adopting his own bemused expression.

Ella tilted her head in the other direction.

Jan mimiced her, bobbing his head sideways with a slight grin. Perhaps this was a new game.

She laughed, shook her head, and then decided to extend her hand for a handshake.

Jan, still caught up in all the head bobbing, hadnt been expecting the sudden arm extension, and actually jumped back a bit in surprise. It was still painfully apprent that it meant little to him, and Ella was 'left hanging'.

While she wondered idly why she was wasting her time with this kid (gorgeous though he may be) Jan's playful expression suddenly melted away into one of pained concern.

His eyes widened as though in shock, and for an instant Ella thought she could see the beginings of tears glistening amidst those azure oceans.

~~Are you okay?~~ Ella signed and then realized that he couldn't understand.

Jan took a step forward slowly, his face a mask of concern, and slowly, with infinite care and grace reached a slender hand up to touch his throat.

Ella got the immediate impression that the lad had just become aware of her own mute condition, her painful history becoming instantly clear under his intense but sad gaze.

As with the Betazoids, Ella felt her stomach clench and her heart begin to pound at the thought of someone just "knowing" what was going on inside her head. Her facial expression lost most of its usual friendliness and her eyes hardened.

Tenderly, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek, Jan moved his hand from his throat and moved to reach to touch her own frozen vocal chords.

She blinked and immediately stumbled backward, not going very far because of the wall behind her. Ella turned to frown at the wall and then turned back in time to bite back a startled 'no' as the aliens hand closed around her neck.

Images flashed before her eyes and emotions danced free around her head.

Arms that grabbed her from behind. Awakening in a dark room.

Fear.

The endless singing she'd had to endure. Her raw voice.

The sound of her bones breaking and the stench of the alley.

The hands tightening around her neck.

Pain.

So much pain.

That horrible sense that something had been stolen from her or maybe the realization that she'd never had it in the first place.

Anger.

Flint screaming for mercy as Daro defeaned him.

Fear

and Pain

and Anger and Fear

and Pain and Anger and Fear

and Pain and Anger and Fear

and Pain and Anger and Fear...

...and then suddenly it was less.

It wasn't as if it was gone, Ella Grey didn't quite believe that it could be completely gone but somehow it was less.

She came to, her forehead pressed against the alien's forehead and her hand clenching onto his. She'd been crying hard, she realized, and so had he. Tears ran freely down his cheeks, as did hers, and she wondered if his face hurt as much as hers.

But she felt better, she realized. She felt better than she had in a long time. How odd.

Ella smiled, even as the tears still ran, and hoped he could sense her grattitude, since there didn't seem to be a way to thank him properly.

Jan stepped back shyly, his trembling fingers sliding off her throat and returning to his side. Those blue eyes were veritable oceans of pain and suffering as the horrors of Ella's experiences bounced around the Empath's mind.

He swallowed hard. The pain stuck hard in his own throat as the memory of the attacker's grasp tightened its grip around his windpipe. He fought. . . . oh how he had fought but to no avail.

Jan. . . .who had nevered uttered a word in his life, wept at the memory of the songs he could never again sing. His voice was Ella's, or was it the other way around?

He swallowed hard again, and this time a bit of the pain went down.

A deep breath and the panic of that long ago night was exhaled into nothingness.

At last the drying trail of tears that matched the sparkling drops on Ella's cheeks were all that was left of the shared experience.

They stood face to face.

Neither had uttered a word, but they had communicated all the same.

"Something Strange..."

Lieutenant JG Mack Turner - Engineer at Large

----------

** Just before we drop out of Warp, into Breen space **

=^=
USS Miranda,
Deck 40: Main Engineering,
Duty Engineer's Office
=^=

"Sir, it's doing it, again." a female voice announced.

"What?" Mack looked up from the terminal, where he was *supposed* to be studying the latest FTL geometry modeling concepts that CDW had uploaded to the Miranda's core-control computer before they had left Starbase 212. *Instead*, he was still pondering the offer Nyota Armstrong had sent to him.

Blanking the screen, Mack swiveled his chair to face whomever had entered his temporary (for the shift, at least) office. Staring back at him was Crewman (First Class) Katy Sender; barely over the recruitment age and on her very first cruise out of Basic Training. Mack looked her over for a moment, and sighed: she couldn't have been a *day* over eighteen, or at least it seemed to him. ~And these *kids* are running one of the most advanced warp cores in Starfleet?~ he asked himself, rhetorically. ~C'mon, man, you're not an *old guy*, either, eh?~ his subconcious reminded him. Dismissing that thought with a shake of his head, he beckoned for her to come into the office. "What are you talking about?"

He was *cute*, but Katy did her best to remind herself that not only was he a senior Comissioned Officer, he was also her Duty Chief. ~Still...~ her mind briefly wandered at the notion of maybe 'bumping-into' him at the Cantina...or maybe the Arboretum...

"Hello?" Mack tried to snap her out of the *daze* she seemed to be in. He noticed that she did that often, or was it only around him? He shook that thought away, as well. "Space Command to Crewman Sender, respond please?" he tried not to laugh as his VISOR registered an immediate increase in her face-temperature, across the IR band.

Katy fought down the weight of embarassment and blushing, thanking the Good Madre that he wasn't Betazoid... ~Or *is* he?~ she fretted for a moment, realizing that she really didn't know that much about him, since she had come onboard at Starbase 212. ~Oh, dear lord...~

Trying not to make the young girl feel any more stupid than she must have already felt, Mack tried another approach: "Katy, the *what* is doing *what* again?"

~Hmmm...I like the way he says my...~ she quickly tried to regain focus as all kinds of thoughts swirled around her head. "Oh! Um...the warp field grid emitters are fluxing, again, sir. I did a Level Four diagnostic, but it's not hardware - or even software - related, or so it seems...I think..." she paused as she realized she had started to babble.

Mack just raised his eyebrows, and motioned for her to stand beside him.

Reluctantly, she did so...he even smelled good...

"Katy, show me what you're talking about, please," Mack said, trying not to intimidate the...somewhat flighty...young woman. He chuckled to himself, remembering *his* first time as a new Ensign, at the ASDB.

"Y-yes, sir."

Mack sighed, "Look, just call me Mack, okay? Unless I have three or more full pips and claim that these are *my* engines, I'm not 'sir', got it?"

"Yes, s..um, Mack," she smiled. It was a *cute* name, too.

Shaking his head once more (he didn't pretend to have any *clue* as to what went on in the head of the post-adolescent young woman), he motioned for her to upload the contents of the PADD she had carried with her into his computer terminal. In doing so, she leaned slightly over the console - and in front of Mack - to tap at a few buttons.

Mack held his breath as a lock of her honey-blonde hair fell from where it had been tucked behind her ear. She was so close, he thought he could even smell the shampoo she had used that morning... ~Coconut?~

Katy couldn't help it, but as she was leaned over the terminal and in front of Mack's face, she could feel his warm breath on the skin of her neck, sending tingles all the way down her spine. Slowly, she backed away, trying to catch her *own* breath and command her heart to stop pumping so hard. ~Katy! Get ahold of yourself!~

Mack shot her an inquisitive look, as he noticed her body temperature, suddenly rise. "Katy, are you...allr..."

*BEEP*

Instead of finishing his sentence, Mack looked back down to where Katy's file had suddenly appeared...

"Whoa...what is this?" Mack asked as the schematic of the Miranda's and Galaxy's warp geometry displayed on the screen. But something was...off.

Pushing the strand of hair back behind her hair again, Katy leaned beside him again, accidentally rubbing shoulders.

"Oops, sorry, s..erm..Mack," she quickly backed off again, yet still near him. Continuing, "That's what I wondered. I've never seen anything like it. And if you look here..." she reached across and tapped another button on the panel... "you'll see that it fluxes even *more* the closer we're getting to Breen space."

Mack studied the readouts, power outputs, and field-layer sub-harmonics. ~All within spec~ he reasoned. Crewman Sender's intial diagnosis was correct: it wasn't the result of either the Mirand *or* the Galaxy. It was something...

"External?" he asked out loud.

"Yes. That's what I was thinking. Like some sort of generated subspace...'shadow', I guess," she chewed on her lip, in thought, as her ice-blue eyes darted to first the cieling, then the bulkhead, then to Mack...

"And...?" He prompted once again, as she seemed to go trance-like once more.

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head, "'And' what? I don't understand, M..Mack." She liked the way his name felt on her lips...

Mack stood up, and punched a few console buttons, transferring the data schematics to the tri-dee holoprojector in the alcove nearby. Usually, the device was used so that an engineer could more easily *visualize* some component or circuitry for field work. But it suited this little 'adventure', quite well.

"You said a *generated* subspace shadow, right?" he queried as his hands started moving rapidly across the control board.

"Yeeeaaah..." she answered timidly, not sure where he was going with this.

"Well, I think you're on the right track." he stated simply, as he reconfigured the data being displayed.

"Really?" she brightened a little at the compliment, then frowned, "I'm still not sure what I've *discovered*, though." ~He has nice muscles...~ she errantly thought as she watched his arms move and work under his uniform.

"Yes, really. Look," he said, pointing to the finished model. "Computer: run simulation with augmented calculations."

The familiar tri-tonal chirp issued from the computer, as a time-lapse model of both the USS Galaxy and USS Miranda 'flew' through holographic 'space', overlayed with thin sheets of color that represented the nested, interplaying warp field of both vessels.

As the scene played, Katy watched closely as her initial model now flew through in a hologram. Watching the field-geometry closely... "There!" she exclaimed, pointing her finger towards the tiny representation of the Miranda.

"Computer: pause simulation at time-reference zero-two-two-one."

Again, the familiar chirp of compliance, followed by a quick 'rewind' to where Katy had noticed something, then a motion-pause. Studying the field representation, "Tell me what you see?"

"A Cochrane-wave distortion, Mack," she concluded.

Mack nodded his head, while noticing that she was relaxing a little. "Yes: a Cochrane-wave distortion. See how the outermost layers of both lobes are seemingly 'stretched'? That's outside of the parameters of the field focusing grids. So..." he let the conclusion hang, hoping she'd pick up on it.

"So..." she chewed her lip for a second again, studying the models, and how the elliptical anomoly affected both ships, but not in a way that would be caused by either of their *own* generated fields from causing the effect. She looked back up to Mack, and wished for the hundreth time that she could see his *real* eyes... "Something strange is following us?"

Mack nodded again, "*And* leading us, as well, it seems. What else do you know about Cochrane waves?"

"'The Cochrane-wave effect is created by two polarized, yet opposite compression-dialation subspace fields coming into direct contact with each other, effectively cancelling out the opposing fields.'" she smiled while quoting something from one of the textbooks she had read.

"Good...good. What else?" he prodded her to think, further.

"Well...if the wave is strong enough, it can either *push* a mass - like a starship - further and faster...or it can totally cancel out the nested layers of a warp field, instantly dropping the ship back into realspace and sublight speeds."

"Yep. So, what's your conclusion, Katy?"

"That the Breen don't want us getting to *friendly* with traveling in thier space, Mack."

"It seems so," he finished, while closing and saving the representation. He had to show this to Commander Wolfson when she came on-shift in the next thirty minutes.

"Good job, Katy. I owe you a drink. Dismissed."

She beamed, inside and out, while standing to attention, "Aye, sir!" Turning, she picked up the PADD she had brought along, and marched herself out of Mack's office.

Little did he know, she would be holding him to that offer...

“Sleepless”

Lieutenant (JG) Ariss Edon

Ensign Abigail Syl

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

Stepping into sickbay, yawning, Ariss looked around. Despite the late hour, main sickbay was always manned, even if it was just that weird EMH. Seeing a medic, he stepped over. "Evening Ensign," he greeted the young Trill, "Wondering if you could help?" ~ Prophets, who is she? ~

Looking up from where she was working, Abigail nodded to the man who had entered, "Hello. Certainly. What is the problem?"

"I was wondering if you could prescribe something to help me sleep. Haven't been able to get to sleep for the last few nights, and I really need to catch up on some sleep!" ~ How ironic. Me asking for drugs, and yet berating Shinta for attempting the same. ~ He thought. ~ This is different though, I just need sleep ~ “Whatever’s going on, I'd like to be fresh for it!”

"I will need to perform an examination first. In most cases, there are clear medical and/or psychological reasons for being unable sleep." Picking up a tricorder, she opened it up and motioned him over to a bio-bed, "Just come over here and I will start. Have you been under a lot of stress recently? Has this happened in the past?"

Stepping over to the bed, he sat and nodded. "This has happened before, but only for one night, two at the most, and not since," pausing he squinted at the ceiling for a second, "the Academy. It's been four nights in a row now. I just can't seem to shut down and stop thinking! Stress, no more than usual, for the job… …!"

"Do you drink alcohol, tea, coffee or caffeinated drinks in the evening?"

"Alcohol, occasionally, amounts vary depending on where I am, and who I'm with. Typically a beer or two though, if I'm with friends. None recently though. No caffeine either, I can't stand tea or coffee"

"I do have some suggestions that may help. Sexual intercourse can have a relaxing effect on some people. There are also relaxation techniques such as meditation or yoga. Warmed milk also helps as it contains an amino acid precursor that boosts serotonin in the brain."

Raising his eyebrows, he felt a flutter in his chest, ~ Uh! ~ "…I, meditate daily, sometimes twice a day already. It usually relaxes me, but not lately. And warm milk just makes me gag, sorry... And what's Yoga? Isn't he some small green guy in a Terran 2D? My old roommate collected those old 2D's, most weren't that relaxing!"

Abby grinned, "Yoga is a psycho-physical discipline with roots going back about 5,000 years. It was developed in India on Earth. Even though I am a Trill, I find that it helps a lot. Have there been any incidents involving mental blending or telepathy? That can sometimes can issues with sleeping.”

“There was something a while back. A Telepath from the mirror universe came on board and, well, it’s all on file,” he nodded in the direction of a terminal. “Since then, I’ve been, remembering, a lot. It hasn’t been bad, just memories, scattered, sporadic.” Looking at the Doctor, “Nothing major though.”

Running a scan with the tricorder, she spoke "Hmm.. I am detecting elevated levels of acetylcholine and pregnenolone, which could explain the memories. They are both neurotransmitters and would explain why the memories are surfacing. I think that visiting the counsellors and getting regular medical treatment here will help."

“Uh, well I have started speaking to a counsellor recently regarding the incident, and the memories aren’t, well most of them aren’t that bad, I’m just able to remember with a lot of clarity, sometimes though, especially when I’m tired, I can’t 'stop' remembering, that’s what seems to be keeping me up. I’ve tried exercise, relaxing music, work, mental puzzles, Altorian brain teasers, you name it.” Smiling at her, “Guess I just need to find my mental ‘off’ switch!” For some bizarre reason, he found himself contemplating a question someone at the Academy had asked a Trill once. ~ I Wonder. Just how far down ‘do’ the spots go? ~

"Hmmm... There are medications we can try that will slow your brain down."

"Slow my brain down? Literally? That wouldn't affect my coordination or response time if a red alert was sounded would it? Personally I'd rather not resort to drugs, but I'm running out of ideas. And I need some sleep!" He finished with a smile.

"Well, there always alternatives. We could do a surgical lobotomy, but then, you might not remember much. Or we could try a sedative before bed. Or have Counseling try hypnosis."

Unable to help it, Ariss laughed out loud. "There are some who'd say the lobotomy's already been done!" He said, still chuckling. "I've never considered hypnosis before," he said, "how reliable is it, and does it depend on the person doing it, or the person its being done on?"

"I am not sure. You will have to speak to the counsellors about that. I can give you something to help tonight though."

“That would be great. Thank you.” He said sincerely. “I’ll be speaking to Commander Navarre soon, I’ll mention this to her then.” Watching as Syl got out a hypo and prepared it a thought occurred to him. “How soon will this take effect, I mean, will I have time to get back to my room?” He said with a smile.

Abby thought for a moment before replying, "You should wait until you are lying down. That stuff will take down a charging rhino before he has made two feet. You might also want to let your superior know to send someone with a bucket of ice water if you are late."

Laughing again, "Thanks again." He said with a smile, ~ Ice Water ~ He thought with a chuckle. Standing, he made a quick decision, and spoke before his brain could intervene, "Would you. What I mean is, Would you like to... " ~Frell~ "Would you like to have a drink some time? When you're not working that is, the cantina, or somewhere." Ariss stumbled out, flushing slightly. "Just to chat, y'know?" ~ Grozit Ariss ~

"That sounds good."

More than a little surprised, Ariss was confused for a second, then, "Great, I'll uh," Rapidly trying to remember his shift roster, " Thursday, about eighteen hundred?" he asked.

Abby smiled, "That will fit for me. I would love it."

Getting off the biobed, Ariss picked up the hypo. With a smile, “Great, see you Thursday then.” With a slightly bemused smile on his face he wandered out.

Abby grinned as he left before heading back to some medical texts she had been skimming.

“Deck 14.” Ariss ordered the Turbolift. Leaning on the wall, he smiled slightly, ~ Where did that come from ~ he wondered. Still smiling, he left the lift and walked slowly to his quarters…

Dropping onto his bunk, Ariss looked at the Hypo. Drugs were usually the last resort for him, ~ But today?... ~ Looking at the ceiling, he smiled. Raising the hypo to his neck, he felt the pressure as it injected it’s contents into his artery. Dropping it onto the floor, ~ I wonder how lo… ~

"Positioning"

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian -
Vanguard Three
Tech. Sgt. Peter St. Valentine (NPC)

----------

=^=
USS Galaxy,
Deck 39: Vanguard Squadron Flight Deck,
Hangar Three
=^=

"<RHOOZ>!"

*THUNK!*

"<FRELL>!"

*CRASH!*

Technical Sargent (First Class) Peter St. Valentine had just sat down to enjoy his lunch, a turkey and swiss on rye sandwich with dill pickle on top. He had also planned to write a letter to his sister Kathryn, who had just become a commissioned officer and was serving on the USS Hatteras.

That's what he *thought* he was going to do...

"Goddamned, Greenblooded, son-of-a...!"

*BANG!*

Yep, it was 'The Blue Bitch', as his techs had taken to calling the *lovely* T'Shani A'Akledorian. Man, she had a temper...and a big chip on her shoulder. And Peter, unfortuneatly, had the *privilege* of being the lead technician on her Bonzai fighter.

Sighing heavily, Pete set down his sandwich, switched off the PADD, and got up from the break-room table, to try and see what in the Grace of God was going on, now.

Trying to put on his best smile, he walked up to T'Shani, who had her head stuck up into an access panel on Vanguard Three's belly. "Is there something I can help you with, Ma'am?" he tried to keep his voice even, while noticing that she was standing on her tip-toes, probably trying to reach something inside the fighter. ~I hope she's not trying to mess with the swirl-chamber, again,~ he worried for a moment, before noticing that she was too far fore to be messing with that system. ~Thank god..~ he quickly offered a small prayer to whatever patron saint who was watching over them...

T'Shani was barely aware that someone was standing next to her. She was trying not to take her anger at Savar and Krieghoff out on her fighter. ~The *nerve* of those two! Fucking idiots!~ she exclaimed to herself. She *thought* that she'd find some solace in coming down to the fighter bay, maybe to do another simulation where she got to blow up something...BIG. But no: instead, she came in to find that a whole bundle of wires, boxes, and miscellaneous componentry was either hanging from - or sitting below - her fighter. ~What in the names of the Great Gods was going on here?~

Pete didn't like the look of things. Sure, most all the pilots knew their fighters, inside and out. But his crew had been pulling double-time trying to get the new avionics package that A'Akledorian had ordered installed into her fighter. And now she looked to be fucking things up! "Um...Ma'am, you might not want to..." he moved his hand to tap her shoulder, to let her know that he was beside her.

Bad move...

Still oblivious to anyone else (and having her head literally stuck into her fighter), Tish was somewhat surprised to feel something touch her on her shoulder. Quickly, she grabbed the hand...

~Oh, shit.~ Pete thought...

Twisted it...

*CRACK!*

And pulled *whoever* it was forward, using the person's momentum and body-weight to throw her 'assailant' to the deck...

"MY HAND!" Pete wailed, while noticing the odd angle it was turned to...

And quickly kneeling, saddle-style, over the person's chest, while holding both his arms together, *above* his head...

"Flight Officer! Let go! Letgoletgoletgo!" Pete cried through gritted teeth as he thought he also heard an unhealth *POP!* issue from his right shoulder as she pinned him...

And brought her face withing millimeters of his, snarling at him...

Pete tried to blink back the tears of pain, while another part of his mind commented on the odd position of T'Shani on top of him, her hot breath panting on his face...

"What the *FUCK* do you think you're doing, Mister?" she growled dangerously at him, as her chest pushed into his, and her thighs squeezed tighter around his midsection.

"I...I...I..." he stammered, while catching the deadly glow from her amber eyes. "I heard you, and...well...um...didn't want you to get hurt or...break something...or...OW!"

~Tish...Tish!...T'SHANI!! Let him go!~ a part of her mind yelled at her. Acquiescing, she released her grip on his hands, and relaxed her hold on his chest, moving her hips up his chest, a little...and smiled.

~Thats....*freaky*~ Pete thought to himself, while trying to quell the pain in his hand. As she moved up his chest, she placed a palm on his ribcage. ~She really looks quite sexy in that flight suit...SHUT UP!~ his mind fought with itself.

Tossing her silvery hair behind her with a flick of her neck, Tish's antennas bobbed in amusement.

"Um...Ma'am?" he looked *up*, past her thighs and...*ahem*...well-shaped chest, to see her face staring down at his, "Would you mind, um...getting off me?"

Tish flashed one more angry look at him, dismounted, and grabbed him by the right arm, causing it to loudly *POP!* back into place.

"Ow!"

"You better get that looked at, Sargent. And next time, please tell me when you plan on tearing my fighter apart. And *don't* surprise me."

"Y-yes, Ma'am," Pete stammered, while noticing that the rest of the flight deck crew had were watching and snickering at their 'exchange'.

"After that, make sure that the positioning isn't screwed, okay?"

"The wh-what?" *That* comment caused some...*interesting* images to float through Pete's mind...

"The *pOse-iSH-On-EEng*," she spelled-out slowly, as if talking to a Menargian larva-worm. I don't want the new package throwing of my weight distribution." Glancing him over once more, "I...apologize about your hand, Sargent. Go get it fixed."

That was all he had to hear. "Yes, Ma'am!" And he quickly scurried away.

~The boys are gonna be talking about *this* for weeks,~ he thought to himself, as he ran for the nearest turbolift...

"Rage Against the M'Kantu"

[follows on directly after 'Contact']

Primary Characters:

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer
USS Galaxy

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Acting Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

****

Bridge
Deck 1
USS Galaxy

****

"Breen cruiser decloaking dead ahead." Savar's voice rang out across the Bridge, immediately followed by an automatic warning klaxon, rapidly silenced by the Romulan. "They're hailing us."

"Set up a split-screen with the Miranda," M'Kantu ordered, standing up and eyeing the viewscreen. He would, however, let Elaithin take the lead in this initial contact.

Tr'Khellian did as he was ordered

"Federation starships, I am Thot Pran. Disengage your warp drive, lower your shields, and power down your weapons. We are here to escort you to Breen under impulse only."

"Not advisable," Savar snapped, automatically. "The Breen vessel is running at the equivalent of yellow alert."

M'Kantu was silent as Captain Elaithin began to negotiate with the Breen. Much to Savar's evident disgust, the Bajoran commander conceded, and M'Kantu signaled the Rihana clearly to lower the Galaxy's own shields, as Miranda shed her own defenses.

"I thank you for you consideration." the Breen coldly replied in his mechanical tone. "Compliance in navigating our territories requires an observation team comprising of three of our personnel to assist your piloting into our sector. This is per starship. Failure to comply will result in termination of relations, and an interminable act of war on your parts. Comply."

At last, M'Kantu spoke up.

"Only if we in turn send our own observation team over. We'd like to think you are acting in good faith. So are we."

"Do you not trust us? It is we who have invited you. We are offering trust to the Federation. Is it not your way to be trusting as well?"

"Based on our recent histories, Thot, there is enough distrust between our peoples to justify the inability to blindly hand over trust. I will lower my shields and power down my weapons, but I will not allow any transports over to by bridge without equal representation on your own. Take it or leave it. Like you said, *you* called us. I don't have to be here."

There was a dead silence for several long seconds. Pran was evaluating or in contact with his government for direction. The situation was tense and the next words would finalize the direction.

"You have 5 Rihannsu on your ship, Captain. There is one aboard the larger vessel. What is the meaning of this? And there is one on the other one as well. This was not part of the agreement. They must leave."

Tr'Khellian's eyes narrowed at the grotesque figure on the screen, his guttural voice mangling his words as he issued his demands. His mind jumped back to his conversation with Curran a few days ago. The Legate had wanted his advice as someone who would understand the Breen mentality better than these soft-hearted, soft-headed alpha-quadrant fools. The Breen clearly were keen to cancel out that advantage.

"The Rihannsu are part of my crew, like it or not. All valued as equally as any other member of this ship, Thot. I sincerely hope you do not suggest I beam them out into deep space, do you?"

"That is an option, yes. But if you are so concerned with their well-being,' the sarcasm dripped like honey on a warm day, "There is a planet on the way where we can deposit them for the time being."

Tr'Khellian's face could have curdled fresh cream. He glanced down at the huge Tactical arch and fantasised briefly about launching a tricobalt device at the Breen vessel which would have smashed Thot and his hideous compatriots into their composite atoms and spread them across half a sector.

"Out of the question. They come with us, or we leave."

"Frankly," Captain Elaithin interjected, "Either our entire crews are welcome, or none are. The Federation would be most displeased if they had sent us all this way for nothing. I don't imagine your superiors would look too kindly on it either."

"Fine, Captain, but they are not to be on the Bridge while our observation team is on board, and they are not to take part in any negotiations."

Savar's eyes went wild and wide, his face contracted into a stern, murderous rictus. His knuckles went white as he gripped the edge of the arch.

Daren knew he'd pushed far enough. Having the Breen acquiesce this much was a feat indeed. Having his Romulans given free reign on the ship while the Breen were on board was another.

"Very well. We await the exchange with great interest. Five minutes." The screen went blank.

"FVAH!" tr'Khellian bellowed, smashing his fist down onto the Tactical arch with almost enough force to crack the plexi-glass surface. The Bridge crew, startled, looked at the exchange officer, and saw a man filled with the wrath of ancient gods, shaking with shame-filled rage. "How can you do what they say?" he shouted, accusingly.

M'Kantu shot a look at tr'Khellian. "My ready room, if you please. Number One, assemble our observation team."

Tr'Khellan strode thunderously towards the Captain's ready room. Before the doors had shut he was already shouting again, his voice ringing out across the Bridge.

"How dare you?" he demanded. "How dare you acquiesce in their demands?"

"Calm yourself, Mr tr'Khellian!" Daren snapped angrily, rounding his desk.

"I will *not* calm myself, Captain! I am sickened unto death of your two-faced hypocrisy and cant! 'All valued as equally as any other member of this ship', you say? Well, clearly not! All this racial equality and all the other shit you preach and ram down our throats, it's all just lies and expediency!" Tr'Khellian had maintained his fearsome volume, and the tall, well-built man was now gesticulating wildly, barely able to remember to speak Standard as two years of resentment and discrimination burst through his facade like a tidal wave of indignation. "Two years I have served this ship - two years of dedicated and flawless service - longer even than *you* - and at the first sign of trouble, you throw me off the Bridge to please those frozen-hearted, murderous bastards?"

"Sub-Commander," Daren replied, his voice angry but no longer uncontrolled. "If I have order you to gain control of yourself again, this conversation is over. I can be talked to, reasoned with, influenced by persuasive arguments, and occasionally I will tolerate strongly-worded statements of opinion. What I will not be, however, is screamed at by a subordinate officer." He leaned forward slightly. "I have fought against and alongside Rihannsu since I joined Starfleet, Sub-Commander. I have negotiated with them, eaten with them, gotten drunk with them, and on two occasions been propositioned by them. But I have never been screamed at, and I am not going to start now."

He straightened up. "You have as much time as you need to regain control of yourself, Sub-Commander. I'll wait until doomsday if needs be, but this display is beneath you, and we both know it. Remember who and what you are, Sub-Commander. No matter what else may happen, no one can take that from you unless you let them, and I don't believe that you're the kind of man that will let that happen." He folded his arms and waited, eyes on Savar's.

"Who, and what, I am, Captain?" Savar echoed, his voice now an icy hiss, far more dangerous than his shout of rage. "I'll tell you who I am, Captain M'Kantu, since you never bothered to take much of an interest. I am Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian, sole heir of the House tr'Khellian, one of the four great Houses of Fire, holder of the prestigious Senatorial seat of Aihai." Tr'Khellian's voice was resonant with wounded aristocratic pride, as if by his words and demeanor he could recapture his faded glory and take back the heritage from which he had been exiled. "I have commanded ships, fought countless battles, razed cities and conquered worlds. That is who I am, Captain. As for what I am, I am an exile, condemned to serve Starfleet in whatever capacity I can be used and abused. I've served this ship for two years - not a flaw, never faltering. I have fought against my own people to keep your ship and your crew intact."

Savar eyed M'Kantu evenly. The explosive rage which had knocked aside his carefully-constructed facade a few moments ago had subsided into a deep sense of affrontery and the nagging hurt of sadness. "You claim to have known some of my people, Captain. But you know nothing of our ways and nothing of our sensibilities. Serving on this ship, serving always hundreds of light-years away from what I hold dear, is a daily torture to me. I am degraded, distrusted, denigrated - and now, by you, disgraced." He shook his head mournfully, his arms folded across his expansive chest. "You might dismiss me from your Bridge, but you cannot dismiss my grievances so lightly."

Daren waited for Savar to finish and shook his head. "No, Sub-Commander, that's not who you are; all those things: an exile, your father's heir, all of it, those are conditions imposed on you externally. They have nothing to do with *who* you are - that comes from within you, not without. He placed his hands palm down on his desk and leaned forward. "The man I've fought beside, and died beside isn't any of those things. He's intelligent, opinionated, observant, skilled, and proud - but not undeservedly so. He's been placed in a situation that is, to say the least, difficult, and has not only survived, but excelled. That's who you are."

Contrary emotions tugged at Savar's will. Part of him, the proud part which craved approval and was susceptible to flattery, preened itself at these rare complimentary adjectives from the African captain. Part of him, the cynical, angry exile, railed against this nonsensical psychobabble and saw clear through M'Kantu's attempts to quieten him.

"How can you say those things?" tr'Khellian finally said, in an exasperated tone, throwing his hands up. "How can you talk to me about serving alongside Rihannsu and respecting them and speak in that way about me, when all you have shown me is coldness, and now, by ordering me away from my post to satisfy those rasping reptiles, our common enemies, contempt?"

"I can say them, Sub-Commander, because they're true." Daren straightened up. "Now, would you like something to drink while I answer the rest of that?" He moved to the replicator. "I'm having coffee. Is that acceptable, or would you like something else, perhaps a more familiar beverage?"

"Nothing for me. Thank you." Tr'Khellian watched M'Kantu cross placidly to his replicator, and found the man's pleasantness and reasonableness infinitely irritating. He had the distinct sensation that he was being handled according to some Starfleet 'how to handle "difficult" people' training course, which of course simply shoved him into a disrespectful pigeonhole and trivialized his grievances. He stood there, arms folded, and waited for M'Kantu to justify his spineless co-operation with the Breen demands.

Daren returned to his desk, took a sip of the coffee, and then set the mug down on the desk. "I agreed to remove you from the bridge, Sub-Commander for four reasons. One, because I was ordered to come here and, if possible, secure a treaty with the Breen. Personally I find that possibility to be somewhat remote, but there's always a chance this is a genuine offer, and that chance is worth exploring. Second, because it disarms the Breen, removing an excuse they would have used to demand more concessions from us, like not sending a security team with the diplomatic party. Third, because it's what I believe they expected me to do, and it reinforces their opinion of us as weaklings that have no stomach for confrontation. Fourth, because it frees you up to do what I want you to do: man the tactical station in the Battle Bridge, out of sight of the Breen, where their observers can't see you and anticipate your actions should it be necessary to fight."

That certainly knocked the wind out of tr'Khellian's sails, although the cynical side of his character immediately countered that M'Kantu had simply bought time to think up the fourth reason by fiddling with his replicator. "That's all well and good, Captain," Savar replied, levelly, "but there is a reason why the Breen are afraid of having Rihannsu near them when they are on our Bridge. We see things in a different way to you humans. The way the Breen think -- it is totally alien to how your minds work. Their culture is totally opaque to you. They fear that I, or the Rihannsu on the Miranda, may see through their ruses."

"We don't know that there are any ruses to see through yet, Sub-Commander," Daren reminded him diplomatically.

The Romulan frowned tempestuously. "You can take it as a given with the Breen. I was glad you at least listened to my warnings at the briefing, instead of dismissing them." The words 'like that moron Elaithin' didn't have to be spoken, they were implicit in his tone and facial expression. "My staff have already begun to work up contingency plans should the situation turn sour. I have instructed them to work on a worst-scenario basis and have two people working on deadly reprisals."

"I see no reason to tell you to stop, Sub-Commander. I would expect nothing less from any officer of your caliber. If you require additional resources, let me know and we'll divert them as unobtrusively as possible to prevent the Breen from noticing." Daren looked at him for a moment, coffee in hand. "I will also authorize your use of the Galaxy's internal monitoring system to observe the Breen from the Battle Bridge and utilize your superior knowledge of their culture and methods to watch for signs of treachery." He reached down and picked up a folded slip of paper and handed it to Savar. "Your authorization code to access the monitors, Sub-Commander. I will expect a full report daily on your interpretations of their activities."

Tr'Khellian frowned again and looked out of the window. The Breen cruiser was pulling alongside the Galaxy, and the 'observation' team would be beaming over shortly. The fiery indignation burning deep within him was well on its way to being quenched by M'Kantu's dogged reasonableness. "I will follow your orders, Captain," he said, finally, looking back to M'Kantu, "but you must see it from my perspective. How would you have felt if they had demanded the removal of all personnel with black skin?"

"Irritated, angry, frustrated - just like you. But I'd order the personnel to stand down anyway, because I believe this mission is more important than my personal pride. Just like I think you would have, if our positions were reversed. Is there anything else, Sub-Commander?"

"Whilst I am here, Captain," tr'Khellian said, "I recognize that this may not be the appropriate time, but since I am airing my grievances the context is correct." He folded his hands at the small of his back, assuming his customary, statuesque pose. "The Tal Shiar agent sent to this ship to assassinate me is still at large. I am still living my life in daily apprehension of imminent death. I find it impossible to believe that reports of Lieutenant Commander Corgan's sexual relationship with Sub-Centurion Tekri have not reached your ears." Savar's tone was even but icy, frost glinting on every precisely-articulated word - a far cry from his raging, stuttering Standard at the beginning of their confrontation. His composure was fully restored at last. "It is absolutely intolerable that the man most responsible for the preservation of my life is cavorting on a nightly basis with the woman plotting to kill me. I demand to know what you intend to do about it."

"A justified concern, Sub-Commander," Daren nodded. "Commander Corgan will be explaining himself and his actions to me as soon as his duties escorting the Breen observers allow. If I find his explanation lacking, then he will be relieved of his duties until such time as he is given the opportunity to explain himself to a disciplinary board. In any event, for the duration of the mission, I will transfer responsibility for your safety to another officer and remove the Commander from the line of command for your security detail. Is there an officer that you wish for the position, or would you like me to select one?"

"Lieutenant Krieghoff," Savar replied, without hesitation. "He has shown himself to be one of the most tireless and ruthlessly dedicated officers I have ever served alongside." Tr'Khellian thought back to that enounter in the gymnasium showers, when Victor's mask had slipped, and he had seen what truly lay within the apparently-human man. The shock had been enormous, as Savar's Vulcanoid heritage had largely prevented the dread chill of death which Victor carried around with him from penetrating into the Tactical Officer's mind. Tr'Khellian could recall few occasions when he had been more terrified than that moment, trapped, naked, defenseless, with Death himself. But Krieghoff would never use his brutal and emotionless destructive power on Savar, not whilst tasked with his protection. Instead, the predator would be turned on Atole Tekri, and Savar had no doubt that Krieghoff would rather die than let that Tal Shiar dog triumph. "I trust him with my life, Captain."

Daren raised an eyebrow. "Krieghoff. Interesting choice. All right, Sub-Commander. Krieghoff it is." He reached down and tapped out some commands on his LCARS panel. "Done. Is there anything else that I can do with regards to that situation?"

Tr'Khellian felt somewhat amused that his choice had irritated M'Kantu, and wondered what the issue was between the Captain and Krieghoff. Certainly he wasn't a typical Starfleet officer; the man's record was highly questionable. But if M'Kantu was as reasonable with Victor as he had been today with him - what was the real issue?

"I trust you will let me know the outcome of your interview with Lieutenant Commander Corgan, Captain," Savar said, with a short, icy smile. "I have nothing else to raise at this time. If you'll excuse me I ought to be getting to the Battle Bridge."

Daren nodded, and rose to return to his own position on the Bridge. "Actually, Sub-Commander, if I might impose on your patience - would you be willing to stay at the Bridge and make a scene of outrage at your dismissal for the Breen Observers? I believe that they would be less likely to suspect your actual assignment if they witnessed such a diversion..."

Tr'Khellian considered this. Part of him liked M'Kantu's thinking, but part of him wondered whether the whole preceding conversation had in fact been a fatuous ruse to shut him up and make him feel less indignant about being removed from the Bridge. Part of him also thought that deterrence was needed against the Breen, and that they really ought to know that someone was working on a large self-detonating device which would ravage the surface of Breen if anything happened to the Galaxy or the Miranda.

"I believe it would be wise to let the Breen know that we are ready to make reprisals should any harm befall our personnel or vessels. Otherwise my contingency planning will be pointless - it will serve no deterrent effect." He exhaled noisily. "However, you are the diplomat, Captain, and not I. If you believe a little 'play-acting' now will strengthen your hand later, then so be it."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander," Daren nodded. "And I do believe that the Breen might need a reminder that we do not intend to sit still and be a target is in order. A god deal of diplomacy, after all, is the art of reminding one's opposite number that the object trained under the table at them is, indeed, a phaser." 

"This Game of Knives"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan

And
Sub-Centurion Atole Tekri

Location: Crew Quarters.

Soundtrack: "Rocksteady" By Remy Shand "Love Unlimited" By The Fun Lovin' Criminals

The covert message, from Tal'Shiar control station #198328629358293… (actually, it goes on for quite a long time) to Atole Tekri, agent (omitted due to confidenciality, not even Tekri knew her agent number), came as a surprise to Tekri. It also drove home the urgency of her mission.

With all due respects, Tal'Shiar missions varied in length, due to the preparation time needed (among many other factors unique to mission type, environment, etc). Atole Tekri's mission, a yet unspecified espionage and assassination mission to all but herself, Ramir Omar and her controller, the length of time needed could also vary based on environmental and sentient factors. There was the consideration of Starfleet's almost anal control of encryption, their fastidiousness to duty and security, and their caution towards anything Romulan, which barely balanced out the Federation citizen's penchant for being open minded. Being that Tekri, a novice on her first mission, a young, fresh flower yet blooded on her first assignment, and being that she was stuck on a military vessel, a mission that a veteran would have balked at taking a mere decade before, this was not an assignment she could easily accomplish in a few short weeks.

In fact, a few months have already passed, and she was stuck. No luck on the computers, her mark was more wary than she anticipated, and her controller was already showing the first signs of impatience, feigning patients to counterpush urgency upon her.

It was the discussion with her controller that brought more focus on her mission, but that in itself was a paradox, because before she knew it…

Atole Tekri, Romulan matahari, found herself in James Corgan's bed.

It was the second night of the Galaxy's course to Breen, and the second time Tekri and Corgan made love, under the naked starfield in open space, made separate by the forcefield acting as a liberal porthole view from James Corgan's living quarters. She wanted to find the answers to solve her mission inside his eccentric, addled mind, but found herself instead finding shelter in his caring arms and cotton bedsheets. She didn't pump James for information, though during her trip to his quarters she had to remind herself of her task and repeat what she had to do, but instead allowed James to do the pumping (a naughty grin escaped her lips upon that thought). Business was cast aside when they caught each other outside his quarters, eye to eye, green to gray, a gray and black suited human in a sexually imbibed mental game with the sultry Romulan seductress, both found themselves losing the match, then losing to each other.

Tekri noted that the more they meet, the less time it took to make physical contact. A certain amount of trust, tenuous at best but small enough to function as a relationship, began to form. It was true, the human adage. Once James found that she wouldn't bite, he became less resistant.

If only his words were not as guarded, Tekri hoped. Personally, they only knew bits about their respective pasts. James knew of Tekri's merchant family and a potential marriage she escaped from by joining the diplomatic corp (a slight shifting of words, nothing majorly changed), and she knew James was a musician, surviving the war that nearly bled her beloved empire dry, and had been in Starfleet ever since. But still, not much was known about each other, though for physical attraction's sake, it did not matter. Tekri's willingness to be friendly and coy towards the security chief drew him, and Tekri likewise stayed due to the lengths he would go to please her.

Please her he did! In bed, James kept a measure of control, but also went out of his way to make her pleasures a top priority. In bed he lived to serve, and that was the kind of man Tekri liked. Not only would she be satisfied, he would be easier to manipulate. A twist and a pull, a pout, and James would have to ask what was wrong, and Tekri would in turn have to tell him what to do to rectify her displeasure. Such an arrangement would go beyond the bedchamber.

Atole did agree with James on one point, that somehow their relationship had to be more than sex if she was to make James more useful. James still seeked something more. He always asked and searched, and while at first those questions frightened her, she became use to James inherent curiosity. She understood that humans were not so stringent when it came to mating as compared to Romulans, but also knew that humans still wanted to 'connect' with other people. Atole's initial mistake was to think that she could have sex with this one human and get everything she needed. Such was not true. James would need some work and some time, but with his willingness to give, Tekri envisioned wrapping James around her finger in no time.

Some thoughts of guilt did arise when she thought of manipulating her thoughtful, considerate lover. But then again, she was Tal'Shiar, and it was her job to seduce and destroy. The guilt was fleeting.

As she rested her head upon her lover's chest, listening to the odd rhythmic thump of James' heartbeat, feeling the velveteen sheets and his warmth on her naked skin, breathing out byproduct sighs of relaxation, and feeling the heat of her own body radiate off as a after-effects of their lovemaking, Atole Tekri felt quite content. To have James' arm around her shoulders, cradling her gently while she relaxed on him felt peaceful and pleased.

It was a feeling Atole had to keep under control, lest she became too used to them. An odd paradox of being focused and distracted, doing her job yet throwing too much enjoyment into it.

James Corgan decided to break their silence, and said, "Atole… where did you learn that?"

"Learned what, James?" Tekri turned her head to James. From his waved, light blonde hair, trimmed short and combed meticulously, to his crystalline gray eyes that lost all their harshness and haunting fright to give way to a more gentle soul, to his chest tattooed with angelic beings and encroaching darkness in which the angels fought off, Tekri thought of James as a bridge between the wild rebellious and the definite gentleman. His muscles were not originally his own, for Tekri imagined a far skinnier youth made large and athletic by years of Starfleet physical training regiments. An odd, yet handsome young pup on the outside, hiding so much more (some, though she didn't know, was territory she dare not cross).

In true young, human fashion, James followed up his question. "You know… that thing… with your hips… while we were…"

Tekri traced her finger on the bridge of his forehead, "Romulan secret. We have a crude name for it. I don't think you want to hear it. What about when you bade me to be on top?"

James laughed, "We have a crude name for it too."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." "Reverse cowgirl." "Mechari vicegrip… roughly translated."

"Well… what can I say? That was good." "So were you."

Tekri and James tittered together, enjoying the moment, forgetting the rivalry they dared not speak out loud. Tekri's finger kept tracing up and down his forehead.

"This is so odd…" Tekri whispered, "A species without a forehead ridge." "Some humans call it plain." James said, "They can be rather… jealous of other species." Tekri cooed, feeling his forehead wrinkle, "Oh, it is not plain. You humans have the unique ability to wrinkle your foreheads." In surprise, James asked, "You can't?"

"No, I cannot." "Oh yeah? Prove it."

Tekri flexed her brows, up and down. Her birdlike forehead ridges shifted up and down, but the thickened cartilage did not allow the skin to wrinkle up. James looked upon her face in fascination, admiring the ridges and her razor sharp eyebrows move.

"I'll be damned." James breathed in amazement, never knowing how true his prophetic words were after the meeting between M'Kantu and tr'Khellian, "Not a wrinkle."

Then both of the lovers laughed. The weight of their respective assignments melted away, and true exploration began. Learning even the subtleties of their foreheads was fun, lighthearted and fascinating. Gone was the weight of what was at stake. A life, one she was going to take, one he had to protect, one he had to find out WHO. Then there was her life, the Tal'Shiar position she held, and what failure would bring on her. James in essence felt rotten to the core. He was betraying the trust and good name he fostered over the years, bedding with a Romulan slut of all things, to save said life (whomever that may be). Staying close, learning more about the woman than he cared to admit, James found himself wondering if it was worthwhile. Was it worthwhile to stay with Tekri, keep close, warranting the occasional sexual liason to find out whom she really is and what she was going after? It seemed a dangerous game of knives, and James sensed a stabbing in the works. The thought occurred to him that James should pull out, not see the seductress forever, before he was burned, killed, or stripped down to Ensign.

"Tekri…" James suddenly steeled himself, ready to shuck her off, "I still can't get over the fact that you drew a weapon on me." "Oh?" She sighed, faking offence.

"I just want to know why." Tekri responded, not a far stretch of the true in introspect, "I am an attaché. I have documents and secrets of the Romulan Star Empire. You are a security officer, a big… handsome man… wanting to learn my secrets." "Touche." James agreed, trying his best to squeeze out another lie (and feeling black and oily for doing so), "Rest assured, your secrets are safe. I won't betray you… I won't lie to you… I will never… ever… harm you." Tekri was a better detector of lies than that, and though it registered as bold, she kept silent for the sake of their night and her mission. "Alright. I will not draw a weapon on you again." James jested, faking a smile worthy of an actor, "Who said it was a bad thing. It was our first time, right? I made a lot of bold promises the day before, and that day we made love beside the whale tanks. How can I be sorry…" He choked back the words to contradict his romantic line, "…I have no regret about it. We shouldn't be sorry about enjoying ourselves. Maybe about how it affects our duty… but not that we shared each other and liked it." "You still worry about duty?" "Don't you?"

Pondering Corgan's point, Tekri replied, "I do."

Taking it as a subliminal cue, James said, "I can see how you can." Corgan slid under the sheets, hiding completely in their veil, eliciting a glance of curiosity from Tekri. She could only guess where James was going, for he used her entire body when they made love. A tickle to make her laugh on her leg, or a bite on her neck to make her sigh, or even brushes against her skin. No part of her was off limits to him.

Tekri giggled, "What are you doing?" "Page 76. Definitive Manual of the Intimate." Corgan's head popped out of the sheets, and Tekri found James right on top of her. Corgan's gentle, if pained and guilty smile, cheered her heart, and didn't cease her giggling. "Be right back." He said, as he dived back into the sheets.

"Hey… what are you doing?" Tekri wondered, "James? What are you…."

Then she stopped asking. Her voice found itself caught in her throat, as a wave of euphoria crept from between her legs. She sighed, gasping raspy breaths as she twitched and shifted.

"Ohh… keep reading." Tekri moaned, then squeaked in surprise.

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

The next morning, James Corgan marched into security a new man.

A guilty, bandit of a man, regretful of his actions. He was no stranger to what was being done with Tekri, and sometimes when he looked back at their night, he didn't care. But when he did care, the burden of his decisions wanted to crush him towards suicide.

But, he had to admit, a night with Tekri was wonderful. And not only that… it was going to save someone's life. Little to Tekri's knowledge, James became bait, willingly dangling himself as a juicy and helpless prize for the Romulan agent, and since it went as far as sex, the game became quite dangerous… but all the more rewarding.

His first stop at the security office was Lieutenant T'lan, and her team.

"Did you catch her?" James Corgan asked.

T'lan nodded, "2:00 hours. After you went to sleep. She went into your home console and used a codebreaker. She now has your code." "Did you change the code?" He asked, concerned.

T'lan confirmed, "I did."

"Good work T'lan." James patted his Vulcan subordinate on the shoulder, looking at T'lan's console and the surveillance work on Tekri from last night. His guilt magnified tenfold, knowing that he was about to entrap his lover. He hid his feelings with a venomous sting, and said, "We have that b*tch in our trap now."

“Home Sweet Home”

Cole Slaton - Rogue Squadron

The light was dim only partially bringing the cell out of its seemingly never ending darkness, he’d been dumped here, rather unceremoniously, after his trial. Court-Martial, it wasn’t the words officers generally like hearing and Cole was no different, he was just glad they weren’t at war or he’d be looking at a long drop and a swift stop with a noose around his neck.

His eyes were open staring up at the ceiling unmoving, unblinking, as if he could see through the bulkheads, conduits, the many levels of the starbase into space beyond. “Are you with the land of the living?” a familiar voice asked bringing him back into the cell, which in itself wasn’t the kindest of things to do.

“Near enough...” Cole whispered moaning as he forced himself up into a seated position. Major Daniel West in full-dress uniform stood the other side of the humming force field that prevented the young looking lieutenant from leaving. “Major...”

“I think we can dispense with the formalities Cole, at your trail was another matter... you knew that right?” It was his eyes that showed he didn’t want their friendship ended, and he though it already had. He quickly mirrored Cole’s smile quickly adding a sigh of relief of his own.

“Am I a free man?” he asked before quickly adding. “Or is my life still run by those bureaucratic asses at Starfleet Command?”

“The good news is they haven’t taken your wings...” He paused knowing that was what Cole was most concerned about; he’d known him too long to miss it. “... now the bad news... they’ve taken your bars, demoting you to Second Lieutenant.”

Cole nodded as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees sighing heavily. It was what he’d been expecting, frankly he’d thought it be worse.

“I wouldn’t go around doing what you normally do, at least for a while. They could have thrown the book at you Cole...”

“Is it a big book?”

“I’m serious!” Daniel cursed waving his hand in the air shaking his head. “You’ve been assigned to Rogue Squadron aboard USS Miranda, you’ll be heading out sometime tomorrow. After you get your things I imagine.”

“Thanks Dan, I owe you...”

**** SHUTTLE ANUZIA - DAY AFTER ****

A hand grabbed his shoulder shaking him awake, he’d been flying with the birds on the back of a Nigarl, a large beast similarly looking to a dragon, that strange mythical creature of Earth, holding onto her spikes that ran along her back all the way to the tip of her tail. The rush of air, the thrill as she dove towards the ground reaching speeds excess of three-hundred miles an hour only to pull up at the last moment.

“What?” he crocked still half asleep. He was seated on the rear seat of the shuttle in his uniform, his Starfleet coat was draped over him giving at least the impression of a bed.

“We’re approaching her...” the young pilot whispered into his ear. He opened his right eye looking at her seeing her smile, it took a moment for the fog to lift from his mind. Ani was a new engineer aboard the Miranda, an attractive human with sleek blond hair, who had melted at the mere sight of his smile.

She quickly turned away blushing at the grin now firmly placed over his face, he couldn’t help himself, six hours was a long time and spending them with a five-nine woman with wavy blond hair - and she was most definitely a true blond - there was little he could do. She hadn’t done much to turn down his advancements. Putting a woman like that alone with him, it was just asking for trouble, and Cole /was/ trouble.

“This is Shuttle Anuzia, transporting Second Lieutenant Cole Slaton, and Ensign Ani Masters, requesting permission to set down,” she said winking at Cole who had more or less woken taking his place beside her. He’d finally arrived back with the land of the living after his two hour nap, much to her annoyance, she had been rarring to go after the first hour. Bloody men!

=/\= “Permission granted Anuzia, welcome aboard!” =/\= came the warm male voice over the intercom speakers.

The shuttle came around to the rear of the vessel as the Shuttle Bay door opened revealing her insides, other shuttles were evident as she came closer and closer lining up with the entrance. She punctured through the force field keeping the frozen vacuum of space out of the Bay, Ani was a fair pilot easing the shuttle down into an empty slot.

“Welcome home Cole...” he whispered looking up out of the cockpit window at his new home.

"Clarity"

Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer,
USS Galaxy

Lt. Commander James Corgan,
Chief of Security

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian

Lieutenant Curtis Geluf,
Operations Manager

Thot Val,
Breen Observer (and subordinates) (Pat)

------------------------
Deck Six,
USS Galaxy
Transporter Room Three
------------------------

This rather unexpected surprise roused James Corgan out of his security duties, and it no doubtedly showed agitation on his face. He didn't like surprise visits from alien dignitaries, considered the inspection team an insulting, Breen method of telling Starfleet that they were still not trusted, even with a ring of Breen escorts sending the ship deeper into hostile territory to destroy them for all James knew. It smacked of a insulting, paranoid nature that the Breen thought the Federation would try a dangerous trick in their home territory. For a race that sent the invitations, it was one rude way to greet guests, more akin to strip searching the guests instead of saying 'hello and welcome to our home'.

But then again, James was no diplomat, and the proceedings were beyond his control. All he could do was cringe at the thought of Breen observers rifling through the security department's equipment.

Not that Curtis was any happier about the situation.

The Kerelian could see the sheer agitation readily apparent on James' face. In the two years they had served on the ship together, the two officers had rarely spoken. Not because they disliked each other, just that neither one had gotten around to it. Curtis didn't think now was a good time to start a relationship either.

The train of thought vanished as the familiar sound of the transporter suddenly came to life.

"Energizing." the transporter chief stated, sliding his hand down the control board. Before the two members of the Galaxy's senior staff, three forms materialized into being in the telltale blue sparkle of a Federation transporter.

James saw the three Breen observers fully materialize, from blue energy to their solid, tan uniformed, brown helmet headed forms. From their appearance, the Breen looked more robotic than organic, with helmets that were boxy and bearing a dully glowing visor, and a voice box that squeaked digital garbage as their language. The Breen were all a mystery, as refrigerator wearing aliens whom regarded all outsiders with disdain.

The chief of security did not relish this visit from his more alien than usual guests, though he kept a pleasant face about it. "Good day, and welcome to the USS Galaxy." James then extended his hand for a handshake greeting, one he thought the Breen recognized and shared as a culture, "I am Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, chief of security."

Thot Val looked down and the extended hand, and made no move to extend his own. It wasn't a shared custom, per se, but one that some Breen had adopted to deal with the rest of the quadrant.

Val was not one of those... misguided individuals.

"I am Thot Val." came the mechanical response. "These are my subordinates. You do not need to know their names, as you will only be dealing with me. You will take me to your superior now."

~"Excuse me?"~ James indignantly withdrew his hand. The Breen's rude response was not unexpected, but not well taken. The Breen's demand to see the captain was unexpected as well, which left Corgan off guard. "The captain has sent us to accompany and assist you on your search. We might be able to meet him on the bridge during the inspection."

"Allow me to be clear, Lieutenant Commander." Val inserted, heading off the human's next comments. "I do not wish for your people do be here. We do not need your assistance, and I do not trust you near my home. If your vessels are planning some sort of assault, I will learn of it. Now take me to your leader."

"Perhaps we can re-arrange the tour a bit and hit the bridge first Commander?" Curtis turned to Corgan, a mock smile on his face, baring all teeth, "After all, it would be the co-operative thing to do."

James shrugged, whispering aside to Geluf, "Eh, what the f**k." He then turned to the Breen observer, his hands folded on each other until they turned bone white, and the smile on his face strained to keep from being insincere. "Thot Val, if you'll follow us, we will take you to the bridge to see the Captain."

The Breen simply nodded.

------------------------
Deck One,
Bridge
USS Galaxy
------------------------

If the Starfleet officers could have seen it, they would have noticed Thot Val's gaze turn withering as they entered the command centre of the Starship Galaxy. The Romulan was supposed to be removed from his sight at all times. Turning to the one who had introduced himself as Corgan, Val spoke with a more than evident scorn. "You allow such filth to serve on your bridge?"

Corgan stepped up to tr'Khellian's defense. "You need not worry about Sub Commander tr'Khellian. He has served us well, and has defended our ship on countless occasions. I trust him."

"More the fool you." was the mechanical reply. "Their kind is nothing more than a race of schemers and traitors. You will discover this eventually."

James steamed, "Hey! Who the f..."

Savar stepped forwards, still displaying the icy, hostile rictus which had gripped him since the Breen entered the Bridge. "A fascinating accusation from a race responsible for a cowardly attack on an unarmed training facility, resulting in the death of 300,000 teachers, students and civilians," he barked at the Breen delegate. His reference to the assault on San Francisco drew deadly looks towards the Breen from several of the Bridge officers. "You, the rancid detritus of the quadrant, dare to come onto *this* Bridge and cast slurs against *me*?"

"Hey!" Corgan tried to cut in, seeing a total collapse of the mood on the bridge, and without a means other than intimidation to support him, a means easily ignored by two species harboring animosity.

"We are not interested in conversing with you, Romulan," Thot Val snapped. "We demand he be removed from the area," he said, looking again to Corgan.

Corgan once again cut in, "For the love of f**k you two, cut it out!" James did not relish the idea of throwing the two into the brig, lest he start an intergalactic incident.

"I am not interested in your inferior species continued existence, verminous wretch," the Rihana fumed, the volume of his voice rising in direct proportion to the olive flush spreading across his face. "You'll have to relieve me of duty to get me off this Bridge," he snarled, glancing in Commander Henderson's direction.

"Consider the feeling mutual." the Breen seemed to snarl (insomuch as could be determined from the mechanical sound).

"Oh bother..." Corgan groaned, resigned to the argument, and secretly checking the stun setting on his phaser.

"Then consider yourself relieved, Sub-Commander," Cassius replied, evenly.

"WHAT?" tr'Khellian stormed, in an eerie rehearsal of his genuine outrage just thirty minutes ago. "You dare to insult me by bowing cravenly to this abortive creature?" Savar continued to lay it on thick for the Breen, drawing on his still-present resentment to put on as fiery a show as possible. He found it quite therapeutic, in fact.

"Sub-Commander tr'Khellian - leave the Bridge." Henderson's tone was final.

Savar drew himself up haughtily, every inch the wounded aristocrat, defamed and disgraced by revolutionary peasants. If he could have just seen himself in that pose, he would have been unable to distinguish himself from a younger version of his father. He hawked, and then spat viciously at Thot Val's feet. The spittle hit the Breen's polished boot with a somewhat disgusting but thoroughly satisfying splat. This was the worst insult possible in Rihannsu culture, one Savar had not used for many years, but it was thoroughly appropriate against a Breen. With a final, threatening glare towards the helmeted alien, and a faked, resentful glance at Henderson, Sub-Commander tr'Khellian stalked off the Bridge, and disappeared into the turbolift.

"God dammit." Lieutenant Commander Corgan cursed at the cold hearted Breen. James was unaware of Savar's hatred towards him, and therefore had no problem with the Romulan tactical officer, though Savar backside revealed a well lodged duranium bulwark. It was the Breen that directed Corgan's wraith, and he let the pretentious, helmet headed alien have a restrained fraction of what he had to offer, for the sake of politeness in front of his XO. "Thot Val, as the keeper of the peace on this ship, I am obliged to let you know that despite your diplomatic rank, you are still under the laws of this ship. Any undue and excessive harassment on our crew... no matter what race they be, will prompt a response from my staff, so I warn you, cut it out! I can't have this sh*t starting on our vessel, not when our people's about to make peace!"

"The mere presence of this.. thing is offensive to me." Thot Val observed, happily goading the Romulan on. The Breen was rather hoping it would come to blows himself. It had been too long since he'd stood over one of their green-blooded corpses.

"Be that as it may." Curtis offered, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, "He won't trouble you during your visit. If you'll step this way, the Captain's ready-room is just ahead."

Val gave no reply as the two officers led him to what was apparently their Commander's habitation. As the part entered, he noted the comfort that this apparent working area contained. Desk, couch, facilities, soft carpeting and gentle lighting.

Such a weak and pathetic people. That they were here at the Governor's invitation merely turned his stomachs all the more.

"Thot Val." Daren nodded formally from beside the window, only turning to look at the Breen 'observers' after a few seconds had passed. "Is there something that I can do for you?"

"Yes." the observer replied simply. "I would know your intentions while you are in our space, M'Kantu."

"I have been sent by my government in response to a request from *your* government to discuss the possibility of a formal treaty between the Breen and the Federation. Nothing more."

"I will not lie, it is not my way. I opposed your presence here, and I oppose it still." Val said quickly. "Yes, my government has invited you. But many of us do not trust you, and so I offer you warning."

"And that warning is?" Daren asked, as he picked up a cup of coffee from his desk and sipped at the steaming liquid.

"That if you or your people have any plans to abuse our... hospitality, I will discover them. And should that prove true, Captain, then you and your crew will meet the quick death you deserve."

'My, didn't we get the friendliest of the bunch.' Curtis thought to himself.

"Of course," Daren nodded. "And likewise, you do, of course, understand that I have no intention of allowing you, or your superiors, to use my ship for target practice. In the event that unlikely occurrence comes to pass, you may rest assured that my retaliation will be swift, sure, and devastating." He set his coffee down. "Things do work so much better when everyone understands each other, don't you think?"

"Indeed." was the sole reply, and the Breen then turned Corgan and Geluf. "We will continue the inspection now. My aides may be sent to our quarters. I assume such have been prepared?"

"Of course." Curtis replied, "The rooms have been reconfigure to match your requests. The climate is an exact match."

"Our security preparations have been made as well." Lieutenant Commander Corgan announced, still vexed at the Breen observer's abusive treatment of... practically everyone. "It is standard practice for us to post security officers at the door of dignitaries. They will be outside your quarters unless an emergency happens, and not bother you if you do not bother them."

"Very well." the Breen replied. He was disgusted at the very notion of being aboard this.. Ship. But he would perform the task assigned to him. As they began to depart, he turned to face M'Kantu one more time. "You would do well to keep your pet Romulan locked away while we are aboard, Captain. Emotions between our races run high. I can control myself but I will be honest - some of my aides are young, and may not be able to resist the impulse to throttle the fool. They would of course, face an immediate execution for such a betrayal of orders. I suspect, however, that you would not be pleased."

James restraint couldn't take much more. He waited for M'Kantu to respond, lest he prepare a retort of his own.

Daren frowned. "Whatever your personal or racial opinions of the Sub-Commander and his people, Thot Val, he - and they - know how to obey orders. I can assure you that no member of my crew will do anything other than what he was ordered to, or they will answer to me."

"Very well." the Breen gave a small nod. "As you said, it is always better when there is a clarity of thought between all parties." And with that parting statement, Thot Val allowed himself to be escorted from the Captain's presence.

"Tender Moments"

By

Commander Jaal Jaxom,
Chief Operations,
USS Miranda

Commander Arel Smith,
Chief Security,
USS Miranda

Thet Shar'or,
Second to Pran,
Gravnor

Fer'an,
Engineer,
Falt'or

Har'an,
Weapons Technician,
Lort'an

==Transporter Room 3, USS Miranda==

Jaal was waiting for Arel Smith to show up. The Breen 'inpectors' would be beaming over any second.

The Trill commander was 'not' happy about this assignment and he didn't trust the Breen any farther than he could thow them .. or anything else for that matter. Worse yet, Janeen was still aboard. He really wanted her to head for the Academy or home before starting out on 'this' mission but there wasn't time to arrange for anything. They'd left Starbase 212 very surprised and very hurriedly.

Jaal was grumbling to himself when the doors swished open to reveal the Miranda's Security Chief. A crooked smirk grew onto his face, "Ready for showtime, Commander?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Arel grunted. She shook her head. This was a bad idea.

"This is a bad idea." She told him.

Jaal shook his head, "You ain't shittin'."

CPO Laroc was the transporter operator for the shift. 'At least there's someone there I can trust,' the Trill commander thought... and just as that thought was finished, Laroc announced, "We're getting a signal from the Breen ship Sir. They're ready to beam over."

With a half-frown Jaal answered with a tired sounding "Energize."

The familiar hum and light-show commenced. When it was finished, three Breen were on the transporter pad. Jaal had to physically and mentally keep himself from sneering at them. "Welcome to the USS Miranda," he stated sounding not entirely fake, but not entirely happy either.

Shar'or, Har'an and Fer'an materialized on the pad. The shock of breaking away from the meditative qualities and warmth of the Breen Web was as much a shock of a slap on their bare skin. Even after the ebb disappeared though, the comfort could still be felt, just out of reach but there. It was soothing.

"Take us to your Bridge." The chitter whistling of the Breen language flowed underneath the feminine translation. Sharor was Second on the Gravnor. Har'an and Fer'an were on their first assignments. Haran an Engineer on the Falt'or, Fer'an a Weapons Technician on the Lort'an.

There were no nobility here. Politics within the Confederacy demanded their higher castes were not to be stationed on simple scout craft. Nobility had the privilege of surnames. All other castes did not.

Pran himself had been cast to the lower echelon due to failures during the Dominion War. Not that it was his fault for lack of foretelling the future, but someone had to be the scapegoat. He may have lost nobility, but thankfully he did not have to bear the shame of the slave castes in amending his name.

Shar'or was a female Breen, denoted by the 'or upon her given name, was a rare breed. Females on Breen were not known to be part of the warrior castes, and those that were, were killed early in their careers. Most were relegated to servant status to Commanding Officers, or child-bearers for their caste in general. Ironic being that millennia previous to this day, female Breen were the sole warriors within their castes. Males were artisans, craftsmen, and companions. Two ships of the triad reflected the recognition of history towards the female power castes.

Har'an and Fer'an, being male, as denoted by the 'an tacked on their given names, weer notably discriminatory towards their supervisor, but cast their eyes downward in her presence regardless. Pran respected Shar'or, and they were frightful of Pran. They could only hope this time, on this boarding, they could find a way to kill Shar'or.

"We require unrestricted access to your Engineering, Tactical, and Operative consoles. Ha'ran will require unmolested access to your Engineering section for our purposes. Fer'an will require same access rights to your Tactical Weapons and Defenses."

Arel frowned. This was going to be a pain in the ass, she could tell.

"Now." The three Breen stepped off the transporter console and towards the exit, uncaring of associated envoys.

Jaal stepped in front of Shar'or, "Where we're from, a peaceful meeting is started off with introductions. This 'is' a peaceful meeting isn't it?" A steely smile appeared on the Trill's face, "To show that, in fact, it 'is' peaceful, allow me to begin. I'm Commander Jaal Jaxom, the ship's second officer," he indicated Arel with with his hand, "and this is Commander Arel Smith, our Security Chief. We will be your guides on your tour of the Miranda. He looked back to Shar'or, "And you are...?"

Shar'or's rust-toned headpiece moved perceptively from one to the other, the jade glow of her eye visor throwing an eerie pallor over the toe Starfleet officers that bore insult to her integrity. How did these humanoids manage to defeat the cold efficiency of the Breen? They were highly illogical and wasteful of resources.

"Becoming impatient." Finishing Jaxom's sentence tersely. "Do you dally so to better hide your weapons and methods of destruction?"

"I wish." Arel muttered.

Jaal case the security chief a quick 'not now' glance.

"We have nothing to hide here. At all," Jaal told the Breen leader evenly.

"I am Shar'or, if you feel you must need an address. I with-hold my rank." The thin, rasping tones emote impatience as the bulkhead refused to open for them. Her associates giving an impression of a hearty glare at the Starfleet officers just based on their posture. "Are we prisoners? With darting speed, one thin glove flew to her forearm, punching in an apparently preset series of glyphs as they lit up. "Your observation team is now detained. I advise you release us immediately. Lack of response to the acknowledgement," One glyph faded in and out in a set pattern on the datapad embedding. Her fingers hovered over the keys without giving away the codes needed to cancel the order, "Will initiate their termination as well as your own." She needn't remind these soft-skins of the Breen capacity for self-annihilation in order to exact retribution.

Arel sighed to herself but instead deepened her frown. "You are not captives so stop showing off."

Jaal's eyes narrowed in anger and disgust. They invite us here and treat us like this? Really, they're worse than Klingons or Romulans. Other parts of his brain debated whether or not Shar'or was bluffing. Could this be some sort of test?

"Of course you're not prisoners. We wouldn't be so uncivilized," was Commander Jaxom's calculated reply.

She keyed the acknowledgement, aborting her own destructive countdown, and a release of the soft-skins on the Gravnor.

"Do not insult us, Starfleet. We are not here to be friends, nor your allies. That is for our diplomatic caste to ingratiate themselves into. I'd sooner eliminate the threat with your incursion into our space without thought. Now, deliver us to our locations. We are not interested in your irrelevant recreational methods. Do not waste our time."

"Don't waste ours." Arel snapped. "You are to follow us, see what you need to see, and then be escorted back to the quarters assigned for you at this time. You will *not* have unrestricted access to *any* of our consoles as would be the case when we get to inspect *your* vessels. If this doesn't sit well with you, Shar'or, from one warrior to another, I'd be personally happy to escort you all back to your ship at the end of my mek'leth."

Jaal took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with." He headed for the door without preamble. 'Fine,' he thought, 'they want to rude, we can be just as rude.' The door swished open at his approach and he strode out of the room.

Backlog

“Preparations”

Written by Nyssa Alvarez

Nyssa had spent the entire morning inside her quarters stretching and moving slowly through various sword forms in preparation for the Hazard team get try outs later in the morning. She knew everyone would more than likely write her off without a second thought, yet she knew she was padd pusher.

Nyssa had lived and breathed space ever since she was a child, she had spent days out in the wilderness, been on starships that needed full time supervision otherwise god only knew what would happen.

Nyssa was in fact a half decent field engineer and survivalist, two things that she enjoyed doing at any chance she got. Yet she knew that this try out wasn’t going to be a simple case of run laps, jump logs and put shoot things randomly.

She put the practice blade she had been working out with back in it’s stand, her body turned and moved into the center of the room. It’s pale white lights reflecting off of the sheen of sweat that had formed during the last hour of her workout.

***** A few hours later *****

Nyssa stepped from her room dressed in her jumpsuit that she was going to wear for the try outs. She knew that if she actually got in then things were going to become even more hectic, the very fact that even now she was meant to be doing draft proposals, species orientation and about a thousand other things equally annoying.

Within a few moments she found her self at the door to the holodeck, a deep breath, the excitement of doing something new and yet the feeling that she may indeed be way out of her league caused the young officers hands to shake softly. ‘light its no different than any class you’ve taught’ she admonished herself and took the step into the holodeck.

Imanol Harinordoquy (Brian)
Janeen Jaxom (Cliff)

= = = = = = = =

"The Darkness"

= = = = = = = =

‘Space’, though its title existed for centuries it was'nt exactly an accurate description of the black sea encapsulating life itself. For Imanol the concept of ‘space’ was entirely different. People existed outside of it and not in it. It was the unreachable country surrounding their every movement and thought. It was isolation and seclusion defined. No eyes, no ears, no opinions, stereotypes or preconceptions. There was no right, no wrong, no morals, no judgement. A place with no boundaries and limits, no walls. Space was no where and Imanol wanted to be lost in the middle of it. This black expanse streaked with brilliant white could'nt be called 'space' . It was merely a picture he had become stuck behind. A three dimensional painting, a beautiful one but just a painting. No one existed inside it, it was just an illusion. Science couldn’t be where it told him he was. ‘Space’ was not this claustrophobic.

It took Imanols mind a moment to register the faint swish of the double doors. The darkened cantina was the departure point for this particular thought. Lifting himself from the reclined seat he struggled to recall how long he had been there. Delta shift was coming to its forth hour, but he wasn’t to know, he had arrived after hours, and after hours it remained.

He halted his movement as he watched the shadowy figure move through the lobby. It was not the security guard Imanol was expecting though the light from the stars did little to illuminate a face. He settled back in the chair, watching the latest Cantina intruder.

Band practice had gone into overtime.. again. The Electric Mayhem had a growing audience for it's rehearsals of late so they'd put on more energetic shows.

Janeen Jaxom was hungry and thirsty but didn't feel like having Itchi the sehlat mooch for food while she was trying to eat. That 'thing' was such a pain in the ass sometimes. She swore if it ate one more of her thongs she'd kill it. The Trill girl had no idea how Jaal put up with the monster.

She quietly padded over to the replicator bank and got herself a Ceasar's salad and a large glass of lemonade. 'Next, to find a table,' Janeen thought. She flicked a stray bit of blonde hair out of her face as she looked around the darkened Cantina.

He watched her with a smile as she bumped and cussed her way towards the favoured port hole tables. He waited for the girl to place her tray down comfortably before he allowed himself a well timed "BOO!"

Of course, this startled Janeen. Up went the glass of lemonade she was trying to drink out of. It arced high in the air and came down on the next table. Unfortunately, it's contents had landed on her tube top.

Once over the initial scare, Janeen growled into the darkness, "*THAT* was *NOT* very nice!" She scanned the darkened Cantina. "Asswipe!" she said when her eye locked onto the darkened form of ... whoever that dingleberry brained oaf was.

Imanol had to laugh at her. "Sorry" he said chuckling as he walked towards her, feeling both amused and slightly guilty. " I wasn't expecting you to drowned yourself".

Janeen snorted, "Neither was I," she looked down at herself, "It's 'everywhere'!" Her tube top was soaked as was her light blue capri pants.

"Oh for cryin' out loud," she grumbled.

"My Bad" he said still grinning.

The young Trill looked up at Imanol, "You can say 'that' again." One of her eyebrows quirked up, 'Hey, he's kinda cute,' she thought.

His tall frame reached behind the bar and emerged with a pair of towels and a fresh glass of lemonade. Setting the glass on the table he handed her one of the towels and used the other to wipe up some of the mess.

Janeen's mouth went from a frown to a flat line. She accepted the towel and began drying herself off as best as she could. She turned around while she ran the towel inside her tube top to dry off her chest.

She found herself suddenly wondering where Mack was. Their relationship had cooled somewhat. Janeen didn't know what to make of that. Jaal had simply said he'd been too busy with work and if she really liked him, she'd give him time.

Now she found herself with quite a hunky ... whoever this guy was. He couldn't have been a total creep. He 'did' get her a towel and wasn't trying to peek while she dried off .. at least that what Janeen thought. She finished knowing she'd need a shower as soon as possible. Lemonade was sticky. Eww.

Janeen spun around again to face whatshisname, "Thanks," she said somewhat shyly.

Imanol launched the wet cloth down towards the bar and grimaced as it plattered against the far wall. ~A little too far there Imanol~ he thought as he sat back into the chair he had been reclining in previously.

The eighteen, almost nineteen now, year old cleared her throat lightly, "So, uhmmm, who are you anyway?"

"Harinordoquy" he told the darkened profile, "I'm with the Hazard team." he put a foot on an adjacent table and swung around to look out of one of the port holes. Throwing an olive into his mouth he continued his thousand yard stare.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Janeen asked curiously. She'd forgotten all about her salad now.

"You know what" the frenchman began, offering the girl a bowl of the pitted green fruit, "Life on a flagship doesn't live up to its billing."

"It doesn't?" Janeen tried one of the fruits he offered. She took a little bite and made a face. 'Ewww' she thought. Then she tried to find the point he was staring at out the window.

"Nope, it doesn't." He turned his head and caught her squinting into the distance, "Theres nothing there you know.. I'm just staring into.. uh.. space" he grinned discreetly with the pun.

Janeen looked at Imanol curiously with her green eyes reflecting the starlight from outside, "Well ... Duhh!"

Janeen and Imanol

= = = = = = = =

"The Darkness" cont..

= = = = = = = =

Imanol narrowed his eyes slightly. He had spent enough of the night reflecting and the diversion was welcome.

"I thought all the cute girls were well curled up in bed by this time of night"

Janeen let out one of her girlish giggles. "Band practice went a little longer than we expected. I was hungry and didn't want to eat in front of my sister-in-law's mooching sehlat," she explained with a smile.

"Whats a mooching sehlat?"

Janeen rolled her eyes again, "It's a thing from Vulcan that looks like a terran teddy bear with six inch fangs. They like to eat ... alot ... and anything." Including panties, but she wasn't about to mention the unmentionables.

"Oh."

"What's your excuse?"

"For not being a cute girl snuggled up in bed?" he smiled. "Guess it's genetics"

She rolled her eyes, "I mean for being here this time of night," she sighed exasperatedly.

"I dont know I just had to get away to think for a while. Didn't expect to spend half the night here though. That and my medication keeps me awake."

Janeen blinked twice and tilted her head curiously, "Can I ask?"

"Long story, nearly killed myself with an addiction on shore leave and I've been paying for it since. I don't recommend it. A lot of people wonder why I'm still here and I guess I should be happy that I am, but I ain't."

She nodded seriously, "I see."

"What about you, what are you doing here?" he smiled charmingly shifting his position so the conversation was a little more intimate. ~how old is she, twenty one, two? Can't be long out of the Academy, ooo nice ches.. eyes! nice eyes!~

The 'almost' nineteen year old noticed the change in his behavior. She giggled inwardly, 'Oh my! He's checkin' me out!' Janeen cleared her throat and explained, "I thought I mentioned that. Food, remember? After band practice?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed as she had done, "Don't play cute with me, your cute enough as it is."

She giggled again with a slight blush. "Well, I've been staying here with my brother and sister-in-law to see what it's like ya know, living and all that on a starship. I'm trying to decide whether or not to join Starfleet."

Of course she already knew she was, but she wasn't about to spill the entire story to someone she barely knew. Although, admittedly after a non-challant checking out of Imanol, Janeen decided it wouldn't hurt to get to know him a little better.

Imanols smile disappeared for the moment. "When I was a kid I was fascinated with Starfleet. I think it was the promise of adventure more then anything. It was pretty magical, people going off to spend their lives with the stars, full of ambition and promise. Exiting times." He examined his fingers on the table.

"It's all propaganda you know. Take this mission, we're all just cannon fodder at the mercy of some of the paper pushers. We'll just keep following orders until one day someone cocks up and kills us all. I haven't had an 'adventure' since I was eleven years old and I was probably more sane then, than I am now." he looked up at her green eyes. ~Great way to damped the mood Harinordoquy~

"Oh," she said. Her smile faded and almost turned into a frown. His last statement would be a good argument for going back to the rapeg orchard back home.

"Then again I'm probably just bitter," his smile returned. "Starfleet has a lot to offer if your not afraid of running over some people. Maybe I just didn't take advantage of the opportunities." Truth was Starfleet had a lot to answer for in the case of Imanol and his family. Still, it was all that was keeping him from falling overboard.

She looked at him again, "I see." Now that the subject turned to the Academy, "My brother wants me to attend the Academy. I dunno. I've been thinking I would just go through basic and start as an NCO. That way I could start exploring sooner," Janeen turned to Imanol once more, "No one else I've talked to thinks that's a good idea." She shrugged, then her head tilted to one side, "If you could do it over, what would you do?"

Imanol thought about it for a moment, looking at the bar once or twice then back at the Trill. In all the hours of the day he spend 'reflecting' he hadn't really thought about it. "Good question". He gazed down once again examinimg his finger tips.

"I guess its different for everybody. I was sixteen when i enrolled. On Earth my dad and my brother Christophe were in the limelight for many years because of thier sporting prowess. I was supposed to be the next 'big' thing and it kinda went to my head", he said with a smile.

"They sent me to the Academy more out of a need for discipline than anything else. I guess it did the trick" he shrugged his shoulders. "When the accident occured I was lucky I had the Academy, I really had nothing else."

"Accident? What happened? Can I ask?" Janeen asked softly.

"My parents and brother were killed on thier way to space station seven, I was eighteen and at the Academy at the time." He recited it as he had rehearsed it down the years, matter of fact and emotionless. "It was a long time ago," he attempted a smile but it failled. "If I was in your position I wouldn't go near the Academy yet. Starfleet will never go away but your youth and spirit will."

Janeen peered at Imanol in the darkened Cantina. She wondered what he looked like in regular light. He still seemed quite bitter about his past and she had no words to make him feel better about what happened.

So she stepped over and squeezed him in a great big hug.

Well, as big a hug as a petite trill could give a much taller, hulking hazard team member.

It wasn't a reaction he was expected nor ready for but regardless he allowed the embrace. "What was that for?" he asked as the girl released her grip.

Janeen stepped back, "You seemed like you needed it." She smiled shyly.

"You're very sweet," he paused for a moment with her hands still lingering in his and stared at her angelic face.

Her green eyes twinkled as she looked back into his. Mack was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. He hadn't been to any band practices lately much less anything else.

When she asked her brother, Jaal had only said 'he's most likely busy with work. That Wolfson can be a real slave driver especially with what we'll be up against this mission.' Even in his free time, Ensign Turner still hadn't sought her out for 'any'thing. Admittedly, she was a bit bummed out by that.

Janeen 'ahemmed' quietly and responded with, "You seem real sweet too ya know."

Harinordoquy rarely spoke of the incident to anyone, those interested usually peered into his personel files privately. After a couple of years he discovered there were three usual reactions to his past depending on an individuals personality. There were those who felt awkward and tried to avoid him, those who became scared and tried to avoid him and those who felt sad and tried to embrace him. The latter was rare.

"Don't feel sorry for me okay?"

Janeen tilted her head with a knit brow, "I don't ... but that sounds like it was a real rough thing to deal with." Her head tilted the other way now, "You haven't talked to many people about it have you?"

Imanol took his hands away and sat next to the girl on the table. "No". He ran his finger over a medium sized scar on his hand. "I don't see the need to prattle on about it to people who couldn't possibly know what I went through. Everyone wants to 'understand' but really how can they? It either makes them feel sad and guilty that they asked or in the shrinks case, delighted they made a 'breakthrough'." he pursed his lips and bit down on his jaw momentarily.

Looking up again he saw the sparkle in her eye, the kind that suggested something might happen. Her face was so close now, close enough for Imanol to feel the remnants of her warm breath. He swallowed quitely.

Janeen's eyes looked sad for a moment. "Everyone has things, ya know," she touched the center of her chest, "Inside ... things that hurt a little. I'm not gonna pretend to know how you feel or even try to understand it... but I would like you to feel better." A small smile appeared on her face again as she debated with herself what the next move should be.

Imanol seemed like a nice guy. She decided she liked him.

Imanol gave a little nod in consolement. It didn't really matter how trivial or small ones problems seem compared to anothers but for that particular individual it weighed heavily on conscious and soul. He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close into a compassionate embrace. As the girl buried her head into his chest he gazed off into the distance realising how precious few people had managed to bring out this side of his character.

Janeen was rather surprised by Imanol's hug. She let him take her in. His strong arms felt secure around her. She put her arms around his torso hugging him back enjoying the fact someone else was as impulsive as she was.

After a few moments he let up. Janeen looked into his eyes. Imanol's face seemed less hardened. She placed a hand on each cheek and gave him a quick kiss.

Her soft lips caressed his briefly before she pulled away. It was a sweet, innocent kiss that warmed his heart momentarily. But at the same time he sat rigid and still unsure of what to do next. A number of emotions were running through his head along but regret happened to be the most at that particular moment. Perhaps he had taken this encounter a little too far, she was young and was caught up in the moment, she'd be better to just forget this happened.

'What about Mack?' a voice in her head asked once she realized what she'd done. 'I ... I don't know,' Janeen answered herself.

"I ... It's uhm ... late. I really should be going ya know?" she whispered.

He nodded slightly as her eyes stared at his unmoving lips. ~say something. Tell her thank you and Im flattered but a kiss this must remain.~. He said nothing.

Janeen watched him for a moment. He said nothing. Was she wrong about him? Was he just a bit embarrassed? Her head tilted as she adjusted one of the bands that held her pig-tails in place. "The band practices every other night down in the cargo bay on deck fifty," she mentioned with a small smile. The ball was in his court now.

Imanol watched her pretty rear-end sway its way out of the cantina. He sat for another few minutes playing back the events. He'd remember tonight and for all the right reasons and that was something which did'nt happen too often. Grabbing her tray he walked over to the replicator placed in on the shelf, the days ahead would be long and tough and it was time he finally got some sleep.

Janeen thought about Imanol all the way back to the cabin she shared with Jaal and Taalis. She remembered his tight embraces, his strong arms, his warm breath on her neck, the warm smile that briefly showed on his face... and it made her feel good inside.

USS Galaxy, Sickbay...

Dr. Reynolds had been working nonstop, trying to get the sickbay up to snuff for anything that might happen. She had no idea what this mission would bring for the crew of the Galaxy.

She didn't know much about the Breen except for what she read about them. She realized after getting the place ready that she should read up on them more...seeing what makes them tick.

The info she got at the briefing was very interesting and intriguing. So far, they seemed the most interesting by far of any race she ever studied. Janelle would definitely make time to read up on them after she finished getting sickbay completely ready.

"Stepping Up"

by
Ven'r Nong,
Assistant Chief Tactical Officer

Ven’r stepped to the Tactical console, moments after Savar had abdicated his position as CTO at the order of the captain. He knew it was all a ruse- Savar was entirely too important to endanger over a diplomatic nicety with an enemy they still hadn’t made their minds up about yet.

The Breen, having traded insults with Savar and he having stormed off of the bridge, were no more at ease now than they had been. The situation was tense. And it would remain that way until they were gone and the Federation ships were gone. He had arrived with his crest flat, seemingly similar to a Vulcan but different enough from the Rihanssu there wasn’t so much as a snort. But he’d been regarded for several moments while they tried to figure out exactly what he was. They had even less of a clue than he did.

But he knew them, inside and out.

Years ago, while still in the Empire, Ven’r had repelled some raiders of which three were Breen. Jek had shown him what they were really dealing with, using the meat coolers as a slaughter. They were… disturbing. Transparent creatures, no blood but some other fluids used to carry nutrients and gasses through the body, sliding through the tissues instead of following vessels and arteries. No heart, no liver- very little they could recognize as equivalents. Just the brain and the bones. A few vital places to stab, slash or shoot.

And of course, they are as honorless as a Tal’shiar rogue.

Like that whore sleeping with that human security officer. There was more than one plot afoot and he needed to be aware of everything he could.

Senses wide, he kept an “eye” on everyone within range.

"A Thousand Years"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Breen space loomed like a beacon Cora didn't want to see. Nothing frustrated an Intelligence Officer more than lack of intelligence. Since the joint briefing she had tasked her department with research. Mysteries could not remain unsolved.

She'd opted to used her daily workout as a chance to reflect. So many things had changed for Cora after Gryphon. Though one thing would always remain untouched, the away team had done their jobs that day.

Honestly Lt Dobryin didn't want these scheduled negotiations to turn into one giant trap. What she wouldn't give for a chance to obtain some first hand information on the Breen in person. That wasn't going to happen. Orders were orders and she'd follow them. However nothing preveneted Cora from being frustrated about the whole thing.

A brief sigh escaped as Cora continued her run. There were no easy answers this time. But she couldn't just accept things as they were. It left far too much room for unexpected problems.

Cora would do everything in her power to keep the mission from falling apart as a result of bad Intel. No guarantees but she had to at least try. In short it all came down to her ability to trust the Breen as far as she could throw one. Not very far at all.

Those no blooded, vile beings in environmental suits weren't the only bad guys Dobryin had to worry about. Every morning she had Galaxy's Intelligence staff brief her on all the data packets that arrived. Part of her job required her to know who else might be looking to have two frontline starships for a snack. From there Cora was able to compile her briefings and updates sent onto the Captain as well as other departments.

Intelligence was all about the ebb and flow of information. Finding it, manipulating it and using it to gain an edge.

A waaaaaay backpost

"The old GAL"

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

Commander Navarre Shinta
CCO
Miranda

Doctor Felicia (Cat) Khatroweena,
Commander -
CMO, USS Miranda

***Starlit Night Bar, Starbase 212***

And now for something completely different, Karyn thought, as she watched Jii depart. She was sure she had given Elaithin a lot to think about, but more importantly, she'd gotten to visit an old friend, something she had vowed to make more time for. Re-connecting with old friends always helped her feel more connected to what was going on around her, and she could admit to herself she had been simply going through the motions as of late.

There never seemed to be enough to simply relax and enjoy the finer things in life, Julia, Karyn's personal assistant, often complained, and Karyn had come to agree. Of course now that Karyn was making more time for herself, Julia was worried. Go figure.

Well, she didn't have to worry tonight. Tonight she was having dinner with Cat and Shinta, and she hoped to be be surrounded by memories of Galaxy's past if only for a few hours.

Shinta was smiling again. Tonight she was going to do something she had wanted to do for days, see Karyn again. Her old friend and mentor. They had not spoken since Shinta became a commander and a chief herself. Yet she had heard things that worried her. And the last time they had spoke Karyn just didn't seem happy.

So the Bajoran was glad to be able to forget her own problems for a night and completely focus on somebody else. Laden with gifts, also from the children, she entered the bar.

"Boss!" She called out. "It's been way too long."

If it were possible, Karyn would have run over to Shinta. She hadn't realized what a relief it was to see a familiar face until her eyes fell upon her. Holding back her tears so as not to worry Shinta, she smiled warmly and reached for a hug. "Way too long." Karyn noticed Navarre's arms were full. "What's all this?"

It certainly was a name from the past that had appeared on her terminal when Cat had checked her mail. A name that went back for a few years. Karyn Dallas, Second Officer yet of the Galaxy, Cat smiled as she considered the changes from her time on the Galaxy. The ensigns on the Galaxy had spread through out Starfleet and some of them were commanding the new generation of vessels since the Dominion War.

Walking into the bar, she looked around, her heart sank a little when she saw Shinta. But Karyn was as much Shinta's friend as her own. She'd put up the happy face and make sure that Karyn had a good re-union. Nothing would spoil it, she would see to that.

Heading over to the table, "Second Officer? Eh? That's one for the books. Why do I feel like I'm getting left behind."

Karyn grinned widely. "Cat! Oh Cat, it's so good to see you!" And it truly was so good to see old friends. She felt so much calmer, safer. Dallas wanted to freeze this moment in time.

"Karyn, you are certainly a sight. How are you?"

"I'm well," Karyn replied smiling, placing palm over her heart to steady herself and to keep from tearing up again. "Busy as always. You know how it goes..."

Shinta was a little surprised to see Cat here. The last time the two friends had met had not been a great success, and Shinta was afraid it would spoil the mood of the evening.

As Cat sat down, she gave a smile, "Evening, Shinta." Looking at Karyn, "So what's life been like on the ol' GAL?"

Feeling the spell of the evening momentarily broken, Karyn tried to appear non-chalant she answered. "Not like the 'ol GAL' at all actually. Things...things are different now. Much more, violent, sinister. What I wouldn't give sometimes for a simple adventure." She smiled, thinking of Lee. "Lee had a way of making it all seem like a grand adventure."

Her _expression soured slightly upon thinking about Lee's last mission, and the violence that had torn it apart.

Cat nodded to Shinta, "I knew her when we were both ensigns on the Galaxy. That was a few years ago." She smiled, "They were different days. Less responisibilities and more time." Shaking her head, her eyes somewhere back in time.

"I started on the Galaxy as well. It was my first break." Shinta thought back to those early days.

"The Galaxy was my first assignment out of the Academy. It was where I learnt to be a CMO. Nilani, she'd was the more active on the surface type, always went on the away missions. Left me in charge, most of the time. Lot of memories on the 'ol GAL."

"Strange how this never came up between us. I had no idea." She said to Cat.

Cat shrugged, "It was a long time ago, I was a different person back then."

"That goes for all of us. I was pretty insecure when I started on the Galaxy, thought the whole universe was against me. Capt Price was the first Capt who would have me."

Cat chuckled, "An impressive man and very intelligent."

"Yes. It was a happy time on that ship and Karyn taught me a lot." She smiled at both of them.

Karyn smiled. "I probably taught you a lot of the wrong things." Dallas turrned to Cat and Shinta. "So how are things on Miranda? The last time I spoke to Laural, she made it sound like a three ring circus."

Cat couldn't surpress a chuckle on that one. "More appropriate than you know, far more appropriate than you know. Especially when it splits apart, into three. I never feel comfortable when it does that. The Miranda is well, a little warped - but they are a good crew, though I could kick a few out of the airlock at times. Jii just doesn't have the same leadership as Price."

Leaning back in her chair, "That doesn't mean Jii isn't a good captain, he just isn't Price. And if any of you let Jii know what I just said, I'll deny every word. He is a good man, but it also shows a little of the inexperience he has. I mean, I remember when he was an ensign on the Galaxy. He does a good job and his heart and brain are in the correct place...I should know, I'm the CMO."

Shinta laughed. "I didn't know him that well on the Galaxy, we've become friends only very recently. I am very proud of him however, first bajoran Captain. Yet the senior staff... you should attend one of our staff meetings, most of them end up in fights." She said.

Shinta didn't show it, yet she was worried about Karyn. Due to her new abilities she picked up emotions so much easier and something definitely wasn't right.

Karyn raised an eyebrow at that. "Sounds like you need this," and she gestured to her Hawaiin martini, "more than I do. But I propose a toast!" Karyn raised her glass. "To the crews of the USS Galaxy and the USS Miranda, but especially the women who see to their health. May we never lose the will to stop them from killing themselves and each other."

Cat reached out with her own glass, "Hear, hear"

"and to our friendship." Shinta added smiling at both of them.

Three slight 'klinks' could be heard as the glasses were touched to each other and the three women sipped from their drinks.

"Reflection and Signs"

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

Captain Elaithin Jii,
Commanding Officer,
USS Miranda

------------------------
Captain's Ready Room
Deck One,
USS Miranda
---------------------------

"Captain's Log, Stardate 58321.3. We have traveled through Breen space so far without incident. The observers aboard both Miranda and Galaxy have made minor nuisances of themselves, but I get the feeling that they have no real authority - they're just here to make us all the more aware of where we are."

"We're expected to reach Breen within the hour. The Away Team is prepared, and I feel almost as though my brain is going to explode from all the treaties and diplomatic protocols the good Legates have had me reading in preparation for this. How they remember who said what to what government how many years ago is beyond me."

"Computer." he said after a thoughtful sigh as he turned to face the viewport behind his desk. "Switch to personal log."

"Acknowledged. Now recording personal log."

"There've been a lot of questions this last week regarding some of my decisions, both from Miranda's crew, and Galaxy. The Romulan - I'm sorry, Rihannsu, I keep forgetting they prefer to be called that - Tactical Officer, Savar, I believe, seems to have taken a particular objection to me, if I judged his facial expressions during the briefing properly."

"Mostly the objections seem to be in regards to two of my away team choices. Arel Smith and Karyn Dallas. I'm told that the Galaxy recently lost one of it's own, a pregnant security officer, which explains a great deal their reactions. I have to remind myself that most of Galaxy's crew are Bhrode's, and didn't serve under Price like so many of us here aboard Miranda. They don't know Arel."

"I've wondered myself if it's a wise choice. I couldn't actually order Arel to go down, but I did give her the choice, and I told her I needed her. I'm not sure why it seems so important that she comes down with us. A hunch maybe - or as Karyn or Shinta would tell me, my subconscious wanting her there because I don't particularly trust the Breen."

"There is the matter that taking a pregnant officer would be a political sign of trust. It feels wrong, though, to use her in such a manner - the same way my reasons for taking Karyn seem wrong."

"I hate politics. But this mission... It's got to succeed. This could mean so much for the Federation. In a universe where ever seems to want to destroy us... Taking one more species off that list could be the most important thing any of us ever do."

"And then there's my whole discussion with Karyn..."

--------------------------------------------
***Starlit Night, Starbase 212*** One Week Ago
--------------------------------------------

Karyn drained the last of her Hawaiian martini and signaled the bartender for another. She inhaled deeply, enjoying watching the people come in and out of the bar without having to face looks of disapproval or of recognition. In here, she could be anonymous.

But it was only for a little while. As was so often the case, Karyn was never without a job to do or nerves to soothe. In the past that hadn't bothered her. That was her job and she did it faithfully without complaint. Now she always felt on edge, a little more tired, a little more restless. Brhode and M'Kantu's Galaxy was a far cry from the one she had explored with R.E.L. Price. Of course, she knew only her perceptions of the Galaxy had changed, not the actual Galaxy itself...

Still, there was so much more violence now, so many more wounds to heal. Sipping the blue liquid, she couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before their universe became more like the mirrorverse that the Miranda had just encountered. What more would it take?

She was grateful to be alone for the moment with her thoughts. Life was too short for her to spend it without having some fun.

Elaithin Jii tugged slightly on the sleeve of his civilian jacket as he entered the bar. The station's computer had told her this was where she was, and he'd had to ask it twice to be certain. Something like this.. Didn't seem to be her usual hangout.

Fidgeting slightly, the Bajoran mentally marveled at how he uncomfortable he seemed to feel out of uniform these days. The uniform had become a second skin at some point over the years, when it had originally been.. A means to and end. A job.

Now it had become a life.

Funny how that worked.

"So," he began, sidling up next to her at the bar. "I know you don't come here often, and that leaves me at a loss for a cheesy opening line."

Karyn chuckled as she turned away from the bar. "You could always try "Hey baby, what's your sign?" She pulled him to her in a one handed hug, and kissed him on the cheek. "I was beginning to think you stood me up. I figured I needed a drink to cry into."

"Now, just had to deal with Toryl before I left." the Bajoran replied, shaking his head. "It's not easy suddenly finding you've got a fourteen year old son. He's stubborn, irritating, sarcastic...and really far more like me than I'm comfortable admitting."

"You still haven't told me how it is you suddenly have a teenaged son no one ever knew about."

"That... is a long story that I don't want to go into." he replied, and signaled the bartender for his own drink. "I'm surprised, though - I can't recall you drinking much at all, let alone casually."

Karyn regarded him somewhat suspiciously. "I'm turning over a new leaf and allowing myself a little treat to relax. I'm not on duty for awhile, so I figured 'what the hell?' It's been a rough few months."

Well wasn't that the nice big blazing red flag. "Karyn, you've been on duty since the moment I met you. So. Want to talk about it?" he asked, grinning as usual as he echoed her usual line.

Dallas smiled, but if he looked closely, he would see it didn't meet her eyes. "What makes you think I have something worth talking about?"

"Counselor's gotta talk to somebody. Bartender or a Captain - or more importantly, a friend - are the usual options."

She regarded him for a long time then, as if a battle were being waged in her eyes. Finally, she nodded, setting down her drink with a thump. "Alright, fine. Since you showed me yours, I'll show you mine..."

Karyn took a deep breath, and speaking as though she had thrown herself off a precipice, she spoke softly, but intently. "A few months ago I was injured by a member of the crew. It wasn't his fault really, it was just something that happened because of circumstances beyond our control. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, I was out of commission for a couple of days, but except for the medical officers who treated me and one officer who stumbled upon the truth, I didn't tell anyone. It would have just raised more questions and gotten him in more trouble."

She looked at him and shrugged. "Since then, I've just felt a little...I don't know, off."

"And that's all? Just a little... Off?"

She nodded. "That's all. I swear."

"Well." he said, and knocked back his drink. "I can understand that."

"Can we talk about something else please?"

"Well." Elaithin shrugged. "Yeah. Why not. So about Toryl...."

------------------------
Captain's Ready Room
Deck One,
USS Miranda
---------------------------

"I still think I should have pushed harder. She managed to deflect me then - I didn't want to push too hard. Maybe I should have."

"Tools"

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

Captain Elaithin Jii,
Commanding Officer,
USS Miranda

(Takes place after "Reflections & Signs", if you happen to get this one first.)

------------------------
Captain's Ready Room
Deck One,
USS Miranda
Today
---------------------------

"I still think I should have pushed harder. She managed to deflect me then - I didn't want to push too hard. Maybe I should have."

"I admit. I'm worried about my friend. And maybe I'm trying to hard to help her.. Redeem herself. But then again, maybe not. There's political reasons for her inclusion, too, distasteful as they might be. And as protective as I may feel of everyone aboard our two ships, if things go bad here... No one's going to be any safer in orbit than they will be on the planet.

------------------------------
USS Miranda
Holodeck Six
USS Galaxy
Holodeck Three
Day of the senior staff briefing
------------------------------

She didn't want to meet their gazes as they filed out of the briefing room, so she hung back, just out of sight. Karyn licked her lips, as they had suddenly become very dry, and hesitated ever so slightly as Jii exited the briefing room.

She moved forward, squared her shoulders, and said surprisingly even. "Captain Elaithin, a moment of your time, please?" She gestured to the briefing room, hoping for privacy.

Stepping back inside, the Bajoran raised an eyebrow at Karyn's choice of words. " 'Captain' Elaithin?" he mimicked in a slightly questioning tone. "Very well 'Commander' Dallas. Step back into my parlor."

Karyn barely waited for the doors to close. Sighing, and turning her back to him, she pretended to contemplate the stars outside the porthole. Her arms were crossed, and she rubbed her shoulders as if she were chilled. In actuality, she was flushed, her embarrassment making her face hot. "You and I both know I don't belong on the away team. With two counselors and I'm sure capable diplomats, I'm not needed. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd actually be a hindrance..."

His only response was to roll his eyes. Was everyone and their mothers going to question his decisions today? Possibly he needed a sign to remind people that Starships weren't democracies...

She turned toward him abruptly. "You and I know even the mere hint of doubt is enough to screw with interpersonal relations. I don't want Curran's performance to suffer because of me."

"Alright, Karyn, I'm going to say this once: I really don't care." Elaithin responded as he sat on the table, bracing himself on his arms.

Karyn snorted. "And Curran thinks he should worry about my diplomatic prowess."

"Fair enough. But, frankly, if Mr. Curran cannot put aside his own personal issues long enough to do the job tasked to him - and me - by Admiral Ross and Ambassador General Mol, he can, keep his ass sitting pretty aboard the Galaxy. You, however, I know quite well. I know your capabilities, and I want you down there. That's the benefit of having this fourth pip, you see. I get to make up my mind, and everyone else then has to do it. It's quite a perk, really."

Dallas knew him well enough to know that the Bajoran didn't really view that as such, but he was, as always, utilizing humor in the effort to make his point. It was something that had never changed with him, despite so many other things that had.

Karyn shook her head in frustration. She wasn't some ensign questioning his orders because she was too nervous to go on her first away mission. Damn him! He wasn't listening. And she wasn't in the mood for humor either. "There's more to this than Curran, Jii, and everyone in this room was made aware of it. I'm not sure any of them should *have* to put aside personal issues if they don't have to. Between our two ships, we have a slew of capable counselors. These conflicts can be avoided. Please, do a little damage control." Karyn implored.

"Karyn. Remember our sessions after the Romulus mission? How you repeatedly drilled it into me that what happened was not my fault, and I could not blame myself for it?" he asked, all joking pretenses aside. He saw now that Karyn really was in pain, and he thought he might know the cause. Part of it, at least.

Dallas shook her head firmly. "This isn't about that, not entirely." she admitted weakly.

"lanjep was not your fault. I don't care what anyone else has to say on that, but the idiots who let you take the blame should be drawn and quartered. You don't deserve to be punished for it for the rest of your career, and you damned well don't need to help them by punishing yourself."

"I'm NOT," and she forced herself to lower her volume, for that had come out much louder than intended, "I'm not punishing myself Jii, I'm facing reality. I screwed us royally on lanjep, not just the Federation, but Lee too. I don't give a damn about how the staff's comments make me feel, but I do care about what it looks like, not just to the Breen, but to the Away Team. Three counselors? To include the one who not only made a fool of diplomacy as we know it, but got her CO shot in the back? It'll look like you sent Shinta and Am in to baby-sit, to make sure I don't screw up and that I know my place. We'll look weak, and that's not a position we need to convey to the Breen."

"As Lee was fond of saying... Horseshit. You were no more at fault for lanjep than I was, or Mitchell was, or the Emissary was. You and Shinta have wildly different backgrounds - and skills. Shinta's a former Security officer, so more than capable of taking care of herself. She's a fighter. You're one too, but you're more of a nurturer. Lywhyn... I don't know what the hell she is, and I'm betting the Breen don't either. Whatever befuddles them will only help us. "

"Or get us killed," replied Karyn. She shook her head. Jii was trying to be diplomatic, but she couldn't help but wonder if the qualities she had once admired about herself the most, the ones which made her a damned good therapist, actually made her soft in this more volatile galaxy. Such ego concerns were embarrassing to admit, but true nevertheless. Did she need Shinta the fighter and former security officer to protect her?

"And such three wildly different perspectives can certainly help us understand the Breen more, if nothing else. You're all xenopsychologists - you know as much about observing and interpreting behavior as you do about fixing people's heads."

And that evil and not entirely selfless part of her psyche reacted. "Some of us have had more success with that than others." She was clearly not referring to herself.

"And.." he added, making certain that he was meeting her eyes fully. "I don't like seeing a friend treat herself like this."

Karyn folded her arms across her chest. "Like what exactly? I'm only being practical, Jii. I'm only telling you how my presence will affect the team and most certainly the Breen. My presence according to our own senior staff is viewed as a slap in the face, do you really think the Breen are going to feel any better?"

"You're thinking of me as the Captain I am, and not the Security officer I used to be. I'm trained to watch people, and understand their behavior. I let it go the other night at the bar, but we both know there's something more going on in your head than you're admitting."

She shook her head. "We can't afford to let our friendship enter into this, Jii. It's not your job to rehabilitate me or to help me save face."

"Allright." he replied, biting his cheek slightly. Damn, but Karyn was as stubborn as ever. "Cards on the table, as Kent used to say. Friendship aside, viewing it purely objectively: I'm taking Arel to show trust. I'm taking you to give them confusion."

Karyn frowned. "Well, it's working, Jii, because I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Because it will force them to question whatever intelligence they have. If all they know of you is your reputation from the lanjep incident, then they'll question why in the stars would I possibly bring you. It will keep them off-balance, and I need that."

"And so I'm going to be what? The equivalent of a starship hood ornament?" she replied with a touch of hurt, but mostly amusement. "A figurehead with absolutely no power or purpose? In short, you want me to sit and look pretty?" Karyn shook her head. "Honestly Jii, I don't know whether to be hurt that you'd use me as a pawn, or turned on by this devious side of you I've never seen."

"You have a purpose - I told it to you earlier." the Captain replied. "And we're all a tool of something, Karyn, no matter how high you climb. I'm just being honest about it."

Dallas sighed. "I'll go as long as you genuinely think I'll serve a purpose, and if you promise to respect me in the morning."

"Well then. I'll see you when we get to Breen."

------------------------
Captain's Ready Room
Deck One,
USS Miranda
Today
---------------------------

"Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's nothing, and she really is just working through some minor things. But if we pull this off... I don't doubt Karyn's going to feel much better about herself than she currently does. End personal log."

["Bridge to the Captain."] came the voice of Commander Brex. ["We'll be at Breen in fifteen minutes."]

"Acknowledged, Commander. I'm on my way." the Bajoran replied, and closed the computer terminal on his desk.

"Besieged"

By
James Mitchell
Chief Science Officer
USS Miranda

The terror and ravaging of his soul rent him apart from within. Deep in the heart of Breen space, the Miranda cut a swath as effortlessly in opposite to the inner well of being split raw and bleeding from within.

The Bajoran Science chief felt his walls crumbling. He was fighting a losing battle for his very sanity. At war with the knowledge of his destiny, his creation hadn't taken it into consideration of human emotion that would toil for dominance.

If only Cenna were here to lead him away from his personal desires. This wasn't planned.

The Cardassian bitch who his flesh and blood host had been forced to marry in order to close a sickening deal to bring Shinta Navarre back from insanity and death was now residing at Starfleet Medical. After the research post her comatose form had been residing after having given birth to their bastard child had been destroyed by unknown forces, she'd been transferred there for further study.

Their daughter, a genesis of merged technological advances to further the aspirations of certain military and political parties working in tandem during the Bajoran Occupation, had been killed during the attack. The fact that he felt no pain for this loss only further cemented the de-evolution of positive thought in his darkening soul.

After Shinta's parasite had been removed from her skull by Cenna, the Cardassian had played to his former host's compassion and forced the parasite to merge with his neurological systems, burying the former Bajoran host's mind in a fusion of artificial thought created from the symbiote as it entered through the base of his neck.

Eventually, this symbiote, operating on its later stages, dissolved into the Bajoran's bloodstream to lay dormant, but capturing the essence of both the Bajoran flesh and blood host and symbiote into a new evolved form. This new form now controlled the key centers of the brain, slowly transforming the DNA of its host to suit the form it would eventually assume when its destiny arrived.

Yet, with all this planning, it was never a projected scenario that the James Mitchell that stood here in the Upper Observation Deck watching the Gravnor coast alongside, would be left alone, or even become attached to anyone other than the programming imbued within for Cenna.

Arel's pregnancy worsened the situation moreso. The entire project was at stake with this child now growing within her womb. Yet, the terror for her life was even more overpowering than the idea that all that had been worked for since the Occupation was in jeopardy.

The programming that lay dormant, yet dominant within him, had been meant to disassociate him from the emotional aspects of the humanoid mind, and focus on the darker passions within. This in turn would allow him to complete his mission without prejudice.

The chemical makeup of the emotion of love, caring, need... it was not something his suitors had expected. Possibly the prolonged insertion of the parasite within Navarre had damaged it, or the fact the goal of the project was to singly assert negative emotion for a short time in order to facilitate the inevitable and direct arrival at terminus.

Either way, he was slowly being ripped apart from the inside. Either he could activate his programming now and save himself the trouble of emotional turmoil now if anything occurred to Arel (and also save the future of the project through her unborn child if she truly carrying his genetic structure) or watch helplessly from above, continually at odds with himself at his next step in his evolution.

He was damned by his own predetermined future. Why couldn't he have what he wanted for himself? Why couldn't he be truly allowed to live by his own wishes instead of some long-dead or comatose other?

Every time he would feel himself lean towards building his own life, the programming would assert itself to push the object of his mental chaos and indirection away. Whether it be in anger at wanting a companion by his side for life, to a former love who he felt betrayed by, to questioning the abilities and capability of another, if it distracted or wasted resources within that were not ready to be initiated... they were shut down with equally opposite coldness to push them away.

Driving ire enforced wedges between personnel, conveniently deflecting attention from him when needed. Sometimes the logic didn't make sense, though. Perhaps this was also the case of the prolonged exposure to the symbiote, for the deflection methods seemed almost emotional themselves. Instead of delivering cold logic in reasoning, it felt... enjoyable to drive stakes through the hearts of his opponents.

Even his subconscious thought was repelled by this, as if the original host was standing up to the evil perpetuating within him.

He was two people inside, and they would fight until one died. He just didn't like the idea of either one winning.

He had only one reason for either side to be fighting in such ferocity with each other at this moment in time.

Arel.

Whatever happened with her on the planet below would resolve the inner turmoil he knew.

Her death would settle the dark side of him, his conscience would be over-run by guilt, and he would forever fall to the project, never to share love or life passion again. It was not something he relished. She shouldn't die for his sins.

Her living would bring the forces within him to a head, shredding the last shred of humanity from him in their ferocity, potentially tripping the programming that would cost many people their lives.

But he would be safe in knowing she would go on, his life carried on in their child. Hopefully it would not carry the same destructive genes he harbored. He couldn't bear it if her life was marred by such evil as he would pass on.

Death or life. Which was better for him in the end?

1537