"Exaggerations"

Ensign Indigo Renkert, npc

****

"I swear, the hole was *this* big!" The ensign said as he held up his fist. "And he just kept walking like nothing was wrong!"

"No, no, it was about twice that!" Another ensign exclaimed. "Seriously! Krieghoff's a freak of nature."

"Remember when the Klingons killed him and he got back up and went after them?" someone else pointed out. "Maybe he's already dead."

Indigo Renkert looked up from the art that she was creating, a climbing statue of fries, salt and pepper shakers, and ripped-up shreds of napkins and frowned. Not that she liked Krieghoff, the man still wigged her out, but, for Ella's sake, she wanted to be nicer to him.

"Well, I saw him walking in space without an environment suit, so beat that!" A man proclaimed from a few tables over.

"Well, I saw him walking in space without an environment suit, fighting the Breen and a giant sloth-like beast, so there!" A woman shouted back.

A giant sloth-like beast in space? Indy shook her head and frowned at her found-object sculpture. It needed something... maybe her fork?

"Really?"

"Wow."

"I can top that." Another voice said. All in all, Indigo thought there must have been about seven people now in this conversation. She hadn't looked over, thought the sight of her rolling her eyes to the heavens might have been a bit rude. "I heard he showed it to the transporter chief. Told her to beam him someplace good."

Had they ever heard Victor Krieghoff speak, Indigo wondered. The man didn't have enough humor in him to make a cheesy pun like that. At least she thought he didn't. Ella would have known, were she here. No, Indy amended to herself. She'd ask her friend when Ella got back.

Speaking of Ella...

"Finally got tired of that mute girl, I guess." Someone was saying. "She had to have something wrong with her to get on with that creep but I hear she got around."

That pissed her off. Indigo smacked the table and stood up. "That mute girl was...is my friend, you pack of hyenas! Now SHUT UP and play with your food like normal people or get the hell out of here!"

To their credit, the group fell silent except for some tiny quip about Krieghoff and his harem of derranged women.

Indigo threw her fork at him.

Arrival

Kyle 'Raven' Reydoven

Location: Low Earth Space Saskatchewan, North American Continent, Earth

Reydoven sat in the comfort of the Shuttle's pilots chair and listened to the man on the viewer.

"Is that understood?" the man asked politely.

"Aye sir, it sounds like a great opportunity, I hope to see you in a little while.", the reponse was meant to be equally as polite, but Reydoven though it sounded a little coiled, whether the Captain noticed or not, he could not tell.

"Very Well M'Kantu out."

The screen went blank and was replaced by a sensor schematic of the Earth Defence net.

Reydoven simply ignored it and call up the data that his new Captain had sent and glanced over it.

"Hazard Team." he said, with what sounded almost like contempt.

"No Kyle, that simply won't do, you're a pilot now, better start acting the part." he said to himself.

With that in mind, he smiled to himself and shifted his position in his seat to better control the craft. "Computer, decrease Inertial Damper strength by twenty five percent"

"Acknowledged"

"And," he continued "Disengage auto-navigation."

"Auto-Navigation offline, craft is under Pilots control"

Reydoven smiled to himself once more and proceeded to steer the shuttle to a direct course to the training facility. Straight down.

The Shuttle lit up like a small star as it entered the atmosphere, a bright flare of orange and red.
"Pull up. Velocity exceeding maximum tolerence" the computer chimed "Oh shut up" replied Reydoven, a huge smile on his face.

After only 20 seconds the flare cleared and Reydoven could see the ground "Pull up. Impact imminent" The computer chimed again.
Pinned to his seat by the G-Forces being exerted on his body, Reydoven was still smiling as he pulled the nose of the shuttle up.

For a moment he did not think he would make it....but at the last second the small craft nosed up enough to skim the ground, from a height of barely half a metre.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" He was enjoying himself. For the first time in what seems an eternity, he was genuinely having fun, and he missed it.

He took a moment to compose himself and brought the shuttle into a landing at the facility.

He stepped out of the shuttle and looked around. It was cold, but he was not too bothered about it, he had experience much much worse. He looked over to the pristine buildings and made his way there.

Once inside he asked to be shown to one of the Facility's officers whose name he had been given. A small bald headed man shuffled towards him.

"Pilot Reydoven? I'm Lt. Commander McMasters."

"Commander, pleased to meet you." Reydoven said, not snapping to attention, this intrigued McMasters, "Is there something I can do for you Pilot?" he said, re-interating the difference in rank.

"Yes, is there somewhere that we could go and talk?" "Of course, " he pointed down the hallway "this way"

They walked in silence and entered a small office with badges of honour placed around the walls, Reydoven studied them for a second before McMasters grew impatient.
"Mr. Reydoven?"

Reydoven turned, produced a small PADD out of his holdall and presented to the Lt. Commander who was now sitting behind his desk. He looked over it carefully, the look of distaste for an insubordinate, subordinate dissapearing as the realisation set in. He looked up directly at Reydoven.

"Do not get up, do not discuss this, do not ask questions, do not do anything"

The McMasters simply looked at him.

"Just nod if you understand."

McMasters nodded

"Good, I wish to be introduced to the Hazard Team as soon as they are ready"

McMasters shook off the surprise and acted as if nothing had occurred, Reydoven was glad they had chosen this man.

"They're on 24 hour leave, they will be back tomorrow"

"Very well, I assume you have quarters for me?"

"Yes we do, I'll have someone show you to them"

"Very well, I'll see you tomorrow Lt. Commander"

With that Reydoven left the small office and headed out to the foyee where his 'guide' was waiting. After he arrived at his quarters he tapped his commbadge twice.

"Raven is in the Tower" he said and shut it down

NRPG : Okay, weird things, but don't worry about it, it shall become clear, but not for a long time, just a long term storyline I've got planned. :)

"The Devil and the Deep Black Ship" Part 1 of 4

(Takes place 3 days after 'For Want of a Ship')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Imperial Attendant K'vala Mahask

Secondary Characters

Dal Halvalek
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

Decommissioned Runabout A79
Border of the Cardassian DMZ
Entering the Xellos System

Victor had to admit that the Attendant's performance was impressive. She'd managed to contain herself for the rest of the time they'd been at Starbase 212 and the entirety of the trip to the Xellos System without speaking more than seventeen total words to him over the three-day journey.

Of course, she'd spat each of those words out with enough venom that a Mugato would be jealous, but all in all it showed remarkable restraint, especially considering the close quarters inside the runabout. Mostly she sat and seethed - at least she appeared to seethe - while periodically sharpening her mek'leth and d'k tahg and issuing glares that were obviously intended to do as much, or more, damage than the weapons in her hands.

At least once each day she'd retired to the rear of the runabout and sealed the door with an ostentatious gesture to make certain that Victor didn't interrupt her. From the few sounds that had penetrated the closed door, he assumed that she was performing some sort of weapon practice, which made her reluctance to have Victor witness her actions understandable. She wouldn't want him to know her moves in advance of the day she challenged him, after all.

Victor, in contrast, had occupied his time with several of the remote learning courses that he'd been trying to finish for some time. Restricted by lack of access to a holosuite, he'd been forced to concentrate on the more academic-oriented courses he had stacked up after all the time he'd spent on medical restriction the last few missions. He finally finished the Basic Andorian language course he'd been working on for almost a year, and additionally completed the courses on Terran Military History and Applied Economic Theory that he'd started while waiting for M'Kantu to decide whether or not to transfer him.

At least once he'd caught the Attendant staring over his shoulder, a scowl on her face, but she'd said nothing and stalked off to check the navigational controls rather than responding to his return glance. Maybe she'd been trying to reconcile a class in economic theory with what she knew of him, maybe she'd just been angry - it didn't matter much either way to Victor. He was here to do a job, and puzzling out the thoughts of the Attendant wasn't part of it.

What *was* part of it, though, was the automated chime from the runabout's piloting console that signaled the vessel was about to drop out of warp. Victor paused the program he'd started the day before - Intermediate Andorian - and closed it out before he stood and moved past the scowling K'vala to the controls.

"Well?" she spat.

"We're dropping out of warp on schedule," Victor observed tonelessly. As he spoke, the starfield outside snapped back to normal as the warp engines cycled off. Victor settled into the pilot's chair and let his hands move across the controls on their own, the patterns his aunts had taught him flowing from them easily.

"Where are we?" K'vala snapped, her shadow large over him as she moved to stand directly behind his seat.

Victor considered his answer for a moment, glanced up at the Attendant's reflection in the cockpit window, and then answered, "Xellos - one of the border systems along the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone." He shifted the runabout slightly and tapped a control to bring up a view of the system. "Four planets. Xellos I is a Class E, Xellos II a Class M, and Xellos III & IV are Class J's." She'd be able to get all of that with only a little effort anyway, no point in lying to her. "Xellos II is our destination."

K'vala studied the course he had laid in and frowned. "Why aren't we heading straight there?"

"Mines."

"Mines?" He had her attention at least.

"Left over from the War. The system isn't strategically important, and there aren't any settlers, so they were left in place. Makes keeping unwanted visitors out easier."

"You know the path through them?"

"Yes." His aunts had made certain that both he and Greta knew it in case something happened to them. "We'll be through the field shortly. That's when we can expect Dal Halvalek."

He didn't need to look to know she was frowning at him. "He was mentioned before. A Cardassian?"

"Yes. He patrols this part of the DMZ. His sensor buoys have already picked us up. He's only waiting to see if we know the way through the mines or not before he approaches to identify us."

"If we don't?"

"Then he comes and kills anything the mines leave and takes the rest for salvage."

The Attendant was silent as the runabout picked up speed and began a complex pattern of entry into the system, passing close enough to the mines at two points that they were visible through the ports with the naked eye. It was only after Victor leaned back and stretched to signal that they were through the minefield, that she spoke again. "Why is a Cardassian watching this system when it's outside the Zone?"

Victor looked up again, started to answer, and was cut off the proximity alert from the sensor panels and a simultaneous hail over the comm system. "Wait," he said curtly as he glanced down and made certain his fleet insignia and jacket were off before he reached for the comm controls. "Say nothing until I've dealt with him."

The Klingon woman bristled but remained silent as the com screen lit up.

"Ah," the Cardassian revealed there said with one of the false smiles that his people held the patent on. "What a shame. I was hoping that I had my old friends to speak to again,"

"They were busy, Dal Halvalek" Victor replied curtly.

"You, of course have the correct code signal?" The Cardassian looked hopeful that Victor, in fact, did not.

Victor's hand moved and tripped a switch. "Transmitting now."

A moment passed, and then the Cardassian commander's smile shifted ever-so-slightly, becoming something that might pass for genuine. "Excellent. Do you and your..." he looked pointedly at the Attendant "...companion require anything?"

"No. We will land, exchange ships and depart within the hour," Victor told him carefully. "Our business is elsewhere."

The Cardassian nodded. "I see. What will the vessel be, so I will know it when you return?"

"You'll know the ship," Victor said with a smile that drew a wary shift in expression from the Cardassian officer. "It's black as night."

Halvalek's eyes narrowed and his posture shifted slightly on the screen, becoming more straight and military. "I... understand."

"Of course you do," Victor nodded. "Did you receive the... package... we sent?"

"Ah... yes, yes." The Dal was quick to answer. "It arrived as scheduled."

"Good." Victor let himself smile again. "Keep up the good work, Halvalek. Eyes are watching."

The Cardassian blinked once, looked at Victor through the screen intently for a moment, and then snapped off a farewell in his native language. Victor frowned, replied in kind and then severed the connection. He touched a few controls and rolled the runabout over to send it down towards Xellos II, bringing the Cardassian's ship, an crusteacid-appearing Kalen-Class Battle Cruiser into view.

"He'll watch us all the way down, but we won't have any trouble from him," Victor said quietly as the cruiser slipped behind them.

There was a rasp behind him as K'vala drew her d'k tahg. "Why," she said very slowly and distinctly, "do you have a Cardassian Border Patrol cruiser captain taking orders from you? Who are you? *What* are you?"

"Pick one."

"What?" she hissed.

"Pick one," Victor repeated. "I'm not wasting both our times trying to answer a confused mass of questions hurled at me like the knives you're carrying up your sleeves."

Considering the sound like escaping steam the attendant made in response to his words, Victor expected the blade of her d'k tahg to be almost red-hot from the transference of heat through her hand when it was laid against his neck. It wasn't. It was cold. "Answer me, or..."

"Or you'll continue to waste both of our time with this pointless display?" Victor observed, continuing to pilot the runabout as if nothing was wrong. "Stop acting the fool we both know you aren't, Attendant."

The blade at his throat trembled for a moment, and then was withdrawn with a cry of frustration that sounded remarkably like the shriek of tritanium as it underwent structural failure.

Victor waited until the planet loomed large in the forward viewports before repeating again. "Pick one."

The Attendant took a single shuddering breath and rasped, "What *are* you?"

"You know what I am."

"No, I know what I thought you were. But no human acts like you, takes the risks you do." Her face was suddenly beside his, eyes fixed on him. "What *are* you?"

Victor made a final adjustment to the controls and turned towards her as they started into the atmosphere, the shadow of the horizon moving across the runabout, wiping away the man as it passed to reveal what lay beneath. "You know what I am," Death repeated softly.

K'vala recoiled, eyes wide, her d'k tahg clattering across the floor as she threw up her hands to ward off what she'd seen. She stepped back, hit the chair at the Engineering console, and slid to the floor to stare at him in horror.

Victor regarded her for a moment before he turned back to the front and returned to piloting the runabout. A minute later, when he spoke, it was in his normal voice. "We'll land in ten minutes, Attendant. Have your things ready. We should spend as little time as possible on the ground."

The Klingon woman nodded once, jerkily, and scrambled to her feet without a word, eyes constantly on Victor as she slipped to the back of the runabout.

All things considered, Victor reflected as he searched for the landmarks he'd been taught and started to bring the runabout down, that hadn't gone too badly. He hadn't had to kill her yet - that was always a good sign at the start of a mission.

"The Devil and the Deep Black Ship" Part 2 of 4

(Takes place 3 days after 'For Want of a Ship')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Imperial Attendant K'vala Mahask

Secondary Characters

Dal Halvalek
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

Xellos II
Main Continent
Idrani Compound

The Idrani compound, as always, was empty. Wind whistled through the open streets and under the wide porches that Rexa and Ar'resh's kin had built to enjoy the warm sunlight that was so unlike their cold homeworld. The afternoon sun sparked reflections off the small, circular markers that Victor's aunts had laboriously embedded into the ground to mark the places where each of their family had fallen to the biogenic weapon that the Dominion had swept the planet clean with, the bright spots picking out a constellation of death along the empty street in front of them.

Victor looked back at the warehouse - long empty now - where he had parked the runabout, and frowned when he realized that K'vala had lagged behind, frozen in the open doorway as she looked around her at the empty town around them. After a moment she realized he was looking at her and stiffened, her normal scowl almost in place as she moved up to his position in the middle of the landing field that butted against the cliffs that bordered the settlement along two and a half sides.

Victor said nothing when she joined him; he just turned and started for the wide hangar doors set under an overhang in the cliff-face. If she had something to say, she'd say it.

It took her until they had almost reached the doors before she spoke. "What... what is this place?"

A better question than her last one to be sure. "Idrani City," he answered quietly. "At least, it used to be. Before the Dominion came."

The Attendant processed that for three steps. "The Andorian women, your... aunts... they are of the Idrani, correct?"

"No." Victor stopped and looked down at the silver metal disc set into the ground by his right boot. "They *are* the Idrani. Now. All the others were here except for their first husband, Uncle Thalick, when the Dominion came with their biogenic weapons."

She was silent for a moment. "The markers, they are where the bodies lay?"

"Yes. They had to make guesses in places - especially with the children after the four years it took for the weapon to burn itself out - but they placed them all by hand." A gust of wind blew across the landing field and stirred his hair. "They had plenty of leave saved up after the War."

"There were no more of the clan elsewhere?'

"No. They had made the decision to come here as a whole, pooled their resources, and bought a colonial license and rights to the system. They sold everything they had on Andor to do it. There was nowhere else for them to be."

"No more in your Starfleet?"

"None." Victor looked up. "Just Ar'resh, Rexa, and Thalick." He stood there a moment more, and then started forward again. At the controls to the doors he keyed in a code that retracted a cover and leaned forward to allow for a sensor-analysis scan. A moment passed, the locks clicked over to green, and the doors started to open slowly.

"Everything still works?" K'vala asked, surprised.

"They spend all their leave time here, maintaining things," Victor explained. "Unless they're with one of us; usually me or my sister, but sometimes our parents."

"And there is a ship here... from before the War?" K'vala asked with a frown that was the equal of many that Victor used. "One of their clan's vessels?"

"Not *a* ship - ships." Inside the cavernous space revealed by the opening doors lights clicked on, one after another, to reveal a half-dozen looming shapes that became more and more identifiable as the lights continued to click on - starships. "All the clan's ships are here."

Victor waited a moment, and then started into the hangar, now revealed to have been sliced from the living stone of the cliffs with some sort of mining drill. The echoes of his footfalls flew through the empty space and magnified, making each step sound like a hammerblow delivered at the forge of some ancient Andorian god.

K'vala followed after him slowly, her eyes missing nothing. "So many?" she asked, her voice turned to a booming roar by the echo.

"The Idrani were traders and merchants; they needed the ships to keep the colony going." Victor passed by two larger vessels - the first a Tavares-Class commercial freighter whose markings identified it as from 'Idrani Transport Lines' and the second an Erewhon-Class colonial transport painted standard Federation white, but with a set of vivid red stripes around the midsection and the same company markings - and stopped, the sudden movement forcing K'vala to sidestep around him. "They smuggled on the side, of course. Everyone out here did."

The ship revealed was the same length, or nearly so, as the Tavares, but only a quarter it's width; like a narrow slice taken out of the center of the larger ship. It bore a single, dorsally-mounted nacelle, and an arched forward section, like the raised neck of a squat bird. Its hull was a deep, glossy black, the light from the overhead panels seeming to almost soak into it rather than reflect away, the surface broken only by the ever-so-slight difference in reflectivity of the blacked out control cabin windows at the top of the arched 'neck.'

K'vala was silent for a second. "That?"

Victor supposed it was a good sign that she had managed to tap into the seemingly bottomless well of venomous scorn she normally coated her words with again. "Yes, that."

"That thing is so old the nacelle is round!" she spat in disbelief.

"Looks are deceiving - you know that, Attendant." Victor started forward. "Go and get the runabout and taxi it into the hangar - I'll start warming her up and then come help you transfer everything."

"I am not flying across this hangar, much less to the Triangle, in that piece of targ dung!" she snarled defiantly. "We'll be dead from structural failure in less than a day!"

"You're welcome to stay here then," Victor offered. "I wouldn't try taking off though - if the mines don't get you, the Dal will."

There was a sudden rasp of leather and the hum of a disruptor activating behind him.

"If you shoot me," Victor continued before she could issue her latest threat, "then you're still stuck here. No one goes to stop the arms trade, the Federation's hawks blame the Empire for the actions of a few renegades when it comes out - and it will come out - and our people will be at each other's throats when the Hydrans and the T'Kith'Kin decide that they've waited long enough and make their move. You'll fail, and no matter what you do, nothing will erase the knowledge that all the lives lost and destroyed will be on your head because your pride was bigger than your sense of duty... or honor."

K'vala's scream of rage, magnified by the hangar's echo, was louder even than the bark of her disruptor as it fired.

Victor stopped, looked down at the scorched mark on the reinforced foamed duracrete hangar floor next to him, and shook his head. "You won't win any marksmanship medals that way, Attendant; your grip is too loose. Try tightening it and aiming a little to the left - your weapon needs some sight adjustment as well."

For a moment, as she screamed in frustration again, Victor wondered if he'd misjudged the Klingon woman after all, and she really was capable of shooting him down like that - but the moment passed and he discarded it. If she were going to kill him, she'd have hit him square on the first time, without warning. This was just her way of playing dominance games.

He kept walking, and allowed himself a slight smile as he rounded the back of the sixty-meter vessel to the open cargo ramp that stretched side-to-side below the impulse engines and started up it. No, she was too honorable to murder him, not when it would cost her the success of her mission. If Kragg had had her self-control, the fight in the phaser control room the year before would have come out differently.

"The Devil and the Deep Black Ship" Part 3 of 4

(Takes place 3 days after 'For Want of a Ship')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Imperial Attendant K'vala Mahask

Secondary Characters

Dal Halvalek
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

Xellos II Orbit
ICS Shabradnigdo
Bridge

"...the same to you, Dal," Victor said curtly. He raised a finger and tapped his face just to the side of his right eye casually as a reminder of his earlier words, and smiled.

Halvalek blinked once, slowly, like a lizard, and raised his own hand slowly to duplicate the gesture, failing to make it look entirely casual, and signed off.

Victor checked the sensors, satisfied himself that the Cardassian ship was turning around and on an exit vector from the system, and started the freighter out along a different vector towards the minefield.

"Did," K'vala hissed from her now-familiar position directly behind him, "you *have* to tell him that?"

"What?" Victor asked as he frowned down at the controls and made a few minor corrections. "That he was doing an acceptable job?"

"No, that I wasn't allowed to return without you or the Andorian women!" she corrected angrily.

"You aren't," Victor observed as the ship responded to the course corrections.

He didn't need to look up at the reflection in the bridge windows to see her bristle. "I'm no Ferengi thief, to come and rob your kin in the night!"

"No, you aren't - not today, not tomorrow, or even the day after. But someday you might need a ship badly enough that you'd risk it... and Rexa and Ar'resh have suffered enough."

"Why bring me if you don't trust me with their secret?" she growled.

"You aren't listening, Attendant," he corrected tonelessly. "I do trust you. What I can't do is see the future to tell me if I can always do so." He adjusted the freighter's speed, slowing her down as they approached the minefield. "I'm willing to trust you with my life and property - just not with my Aunt's."

Her hiss was almost reptilian. "They are the same thing!"

"No, they aren't."

Leather creaked, and one cinnamon-colored hand slammed down on the console next to him, bringing up a window that bore the heading, 'House Krieghoff Holdings.' "You lie!"

Victor looked at the screen for a moment, frowned, and suddenly looked back as the proximity alarm alerted him to the minefield's approach. "Wait," he said shortly, as he began to pilot the vessel through the field.

The Attendant's self-control - or sense of self-preservation - kept her from responding again until the Shabradnigdo had cleared the field and was accelerating out of the system. "You lie!" she repeated, one finger jabbing at the screen like one of the knives she favored. "I pulled up the manifest to see what those crates in the Hold are in case we are stopped by a Customs ship, and this is what I found!"

Victor set the autopilot and turned to look at the screen, his frown deeper with each line that he read. "House Krieghoff... Assets... Xellos System... Transferred by Incorporated Clan Idrani, 7381?... Six ships... Currently designated head of House... Victor Heinrich Krieghoff?"

A dull throb started behind Victor's left eye. "I'm going kill them," he announced to the bridge at large.

There was a moment of silence, and then the Attendant pointed again at the screen. "Explain yourself! This is your ship. That was your planet. These records say so - now you say that you did not know this? What kind of mental defective do you take me for?"

Victor turned to the communications console. "I don't 'take' you for anything, Attendant." His hands punched in a familiar comm code. "And I'm not the one with explaining to do."

The com screen cleared to reveal Ar'resh's smiling face. "Heinrich! You called!" She turned and called over her shoulder, "Rexa! It's Heinrich on the com!"

The throb in Victor's head deepened as he waited for both aunts to be within earshot before he asked in his toneless voice, "Would one - or both - of you please explain 'House Krieghoff' to me?"

His aunts looked at him, then each other. "Oh dear," Ar'resh began, "We were hoping that you..."

"...wouldn't notice that until we'd..."

"...had time to straighten a few more things out, dear one."

"'House Krieghoff?'" Victor repeated again carefully.

Rexa peered closer at the screen. "Oh my, I think he's really mad, Ar'resh."

"No," her sister said with a shake of her head. "That's silly, he'd..." She peered at the screen and blinked. "Oh, dear. He has that same little crease..."

"...between his eyes that dear Bernhard used to get..."

"...when *he* was really angry..."

"...or very, very frustrated," Rexa finished with a nod that make her hair bob.

"Oh, maybe that's it," Ar'resh said brightly. "It's because his..."

"...strong Krieghoff sex drive hasn't got any..."

"...outlet with his poor Ella still MIA!" Ar'resh frowned. "Our poor Heinrich..."

"...no wonder you're so cranky!"

"You're changing the subject, ladies," Victor said quietly, the throb now something more like a pounding. Behind him he heard, incongruously, a snort from the Attendant that could only be suppressed laughter, which did nothing to improve his mood. "We're talking about 'House Krieghoff' - not my sex life."

"Oh, well," Rexa tossed off. "That's nothing. We just thought it was easier to set things up like this for you..."

"...that's all. We talked it over with Greta, Dominica, and Klaus, and...

"...we all agreed that you were the best person to make head of the House."

Victor's left eye twitched once. "You talked it over with Mama, Papa, and Greta," he said slowly, each word a distinct pronunciation, "... and they all agreed with you that *I* was the one to make head of the... House?"

"Yes!" the sisters chorused brightly with an identical perky nod and smile.

"And none of you thought to ask *my* opinion on this?" Victor wondered if his left eye was really twice the size of his right now, or if it just felt that way.

Rexa tilted one antenna. "That's why we wanted to get..."

"...a few other things ready before..."

"...we told you about it - we wanted it..."

"...to be a surprise," Ar'resh smiled.

"Don't worry," Victor assured them as he pressed his left hand against the console to keep from reaching up and holding his eye in the socket against the pressure behind it. "It was."

"Oh, good!" Rexa exclaimed happily. "Now if you can just hold out..."

"...until your Ella is found, so you can relieve all that..."

"...pent up sexual frustration, then everything..."

"...will be..."

"If you two do not stop with the 'your Ella' thing," Victor interrupted, "and especially your speculation on my sex life, then I'm going to..."

"Oh my," Rexa interrupted him in turn, her eyes wide. "Just look at his left eye! It's..."

"...twitching just like our dear Bernhard's did right before he started to..."

"...scream at people!" Rexa finished with a nod to her sister. "It's worse than we thought! It always ...

"...took both of us hours and hours in bed to get him calmed down when he had..."

"...that much pent-up frustration." Rexa frowned at Victor. "I'm afraid that you're not going to be able..."

"...to wait for your Ella, dear one." Ar'resh glanced at the Attendant speculatively. "I don't suppose..."

"...that your friend would be willing..."

Victor's left eye spasmed like he'd been stabbed through it with an ice pick.

"...to provide you with some measure of..."

"...relief, would she?" Rexa asked. "Klingons are supposed..."

"...to be very passionate, you know."

"No," Victor snapped curtly, ignoring the angry sound from behind him, "she wouldn't. She doesn't like me, remember?" He made a fist of his left hand, knuckles white, and continued, "I'm going to sign off now. Send me the names of those contacts when you get them together." He reached for the com panel controls. "We'll finish this another time."

"All right, dear one," Rexa nodded.

"Good luck!" Ar'resh waved.

Victor cut the connection and sighed once as he tried to control the pounding in his head. Something was happening to him, even if it wasn't what his Aunts thought it was. He'd never had his kind of headache just from talking to them before.

After a time, the Attendant spoke from behind him. "I take back my accusation."

"What?" Victor wasn't certain that he'd heard that correctly. Given the way his head felt at the moment, she might have actually said something about the warp core breaching. It sounded more reasonable than what he thought he'd heard, anyway.

"I take back my accusation," she repeated stiffly.

Victor looked at the engineering panel to check on the core containment levels just to be certain before he answered. "Not necessary."

"You did not know," she stated flatly. "The Andorians... no one could present that as an act and sustain it, so it must be truth; they must be the people that I have seen. If they are truly what I see, then you did not know and I must take back the accusation."

Victor started to speak, stopped for a moment as his eye threatened to erupt out of its socket, and then said curtly, "Done, then. It never happened."

He stood abruptly as the autopilot engaged the warp drive. "I'll be in Cargo Hold Four - I want to check the shuttle down there," he told the Attendant as he frowned to keep from grimacing and brushed past her on his way out of the bridge and the ship's office immediately behind it. Once in the lift at the end of the short hallway past the office, he let himself wince once at the pounding in his head for only a second before he reached for the controls.

"Just put your things... anywhere," he said, the words carrying back down the hall to the scowling Attendant, still standing behind the pilot's chair on the Bridge. "We can sort that out later." Before she replied, he keyed the lift and sank down out of sight.

"The Devil and the Deep Black Ship" Part 4 of 4

(Takes place 3 days after 'For Want of a Ship')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Imperial Attendant K'vala Mahask

Secondary Characters

Dal Halvalek
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

ICS Shabradnigdo
Deck 4
Cargo Hold Four

The shuttlecraft that essentially filled Cargo Hold Four was a knock-off of the Federation's venerable Type 7 produced just before the War by the Jenda IV yards, a Cardassian concern that had backed the Detapta Council, been seized when the Dominion alliance was engineered, and was, Victor understood, back under civilian hands again. As such things went, it wasn't a bad copy - the biggest issue was the fact that the builders had retooled the normally rounded hull slightly, to a more angular, Cardassian esthetic, and had utilized Cardassian systems in every place they could to save costs. That meant that the controls were all set up in the standard Cardassian patterns, the seats were standard Cardassian design, and even the warp nacelles were modified Cardassian units.

All of which meant that there was plenty to do in checking the shuttle out, since Victor's knowledge of the operating parameters of Cardassian equipment was limited to 'how many times do I shoot it to make it stop.'

He, at least, spoke and read the language, thanks to his time as part of the Cardassian Occupation Forces, but all did was make the manuals he located on the shuttle understandable - he still had to check everything twice to make certain that he was even looking at the correct components since everything was shaped and colored differently than the model he'd taken a holo-based maintenance course on several years back.

The slow methodical pace had proved to be just what he needed to let his head stop throbbing, and his thoughts to fit back into their familiar patterns. After three hours of work he felt like himself again, however good - or bad - that was.

Whatever it was that was wrong with him, and he had to admit that there was something wrong whether he liked it or not, it seemed that the process of talking to his aunts about Grey, his sex life, and now this mess they'd dreamed up about 'House Krieghoff,' was the trigger. If that was the case, then the simplest thing to do was to just not speak to them. Granted that was going to be more difficult than it sounded, since they would, in time, be calling *him* but in the short term it was, if nothing else, a work-around for the problem.

He'd miss them, though. When he was with them - or even talking to them - he normally felt good. Not like he felt now. He didn't like the way he felt now. It made him want to lash out and hurt something, and that was bad; bad for him and bad for anyone near him - which at the moment meant the Attendant.

He had no reason to want to hurt the Klingon woman, not even in the face of her unspoken intention to challenge and kill him at the first opportunity when he was no longer useful to her. Lots of people wanted to kill him; so many that Victor had long ago given up thinking, much less concerning himself, about it. That was just the way things were.

In this case, though, he'd had to think about it. Since she was the only person on the ship besides himself, and he had no access to a holosuite to find an outlet for his aggression in hunting, there was a problem. The time working on the shuttle had given him the distance he needed to decide what to do about it, though: he simply had to stay away from her and interact as little as possible - that was the only way to make certain he didn't hurt her

The moment he reached that decision was, of course, the point at which he reached for a second wrench and laid his hand on a leather boot-toe.

Victor closed his eyes and entertained the briefest of hopes that someone else was aboard, that this wasn't the Attendant, that he could simply open the floodgates and let whatever it was that was building up inside him out and wash it away in their blood - and then let that hope go. He had no time for hope. There was no point to it. Not for him. There was only what was, nothing else.

"Yes, Attendant?"

She said nothing for a moment, did not even move her foot as his hand rested on it. Only after he shifted his hand to find the wrench he sought did she say, "You did not answer my questions."

"Which questions?" He tightened one of the connections that had proved to be loose according to the specs.

Oddly, Victor found it easier to talk to her this way, with nothing but her boots visible to him, and only half an arm and part of one leg visible to her. He wasn't certain why lying underneath a shuttlecraft made any difference, but if that was what it took, he would accept it and move on. It would make mission briefings awkward, though.

"The ones from before." Her tone implied that he knew perfectly well which questions she had meant.

"Pick one."

She was silent for a moment. "Who are you?"

That was easy enough. "Victor Heinrich Krieghoff, Lieutenant Junior Grade, Starfleet Security."

She made an exasperated noise. "That is your name and rank. I asked who you were."

Victor frowned as he worked on the feed lines. What exactly had she asked? What did she want him to say? Ultimately, it was easier to ask, "What do you mean?" than puzzle over it any more.

She appeared to not expect that, since it took her almost a minute to respond. "Why are you doing that?"

"Because the shuttle hasn't had a comprehensive..."

"No! Why are you refusing to answer my question?" she hissed in frustration.

"I did answer the question."

"No, you didn't! You told me your name - that isn't who you are!"

Victor had to stop and frown for a minute at that one. "If that isn't who I am," he said slowly, "then I do not understand the question." Maybe this was a Klingon ritual? A great many things that humans said and did in the way of social interaction and conversation made no sense to Victor, so why should the Klingons be any different?

The Attendant growled, a throaty rumble that sounded like the warning sound a Bajoran wolf made just before it attacked. "I am K'vala Mahask, granddaughter of Markal and K'vala of House Mahask, niece of Galar and V'kera, of House Mahask, and daughter of Kalan and V'dera of House Mahask. *That* is who I am," she said proudly.

That made some sort of sense, at least. Not that she wanted a recitation of his family, the reason for *that* was a mystery to him since one look at his personnel file would have told her the information, whatever her reasons for wanting it. No it made sense in that it was another dominance game, whatever else it might be - if, indeed, it was anything else. If she made him recite it in the format she chose, then she proved she was the one in control.

Victor tightened the feed line again, set the wrench down, and decided that it was easier to let her have this win than deal with her after denying it to her. She might be able to press him enough that what was building inside him would force its way out if she tried, and if pushed enough she might try... and that would be bad for everyone.

"I am," he said slowly, working out the words in the same form that she had used, "Victor Heinrich Krieghoff, grandson of Heinrich and Alatia Krieghoff, nephew of Bernhard and Thalick and Rexa and Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff, brother to Greta Krieghoff, and son to Klaus and Dominica Krieghoff."

The Attendant was silent for a moment, which Victor used to pick the testing probe back up and start working his way through the wiring in the exposed panel above him again. She'd answer - or question him again - when she was ready.

It took four minutes, and when she spoke, her voice was tinged with irritation, or perhaps anger. It was always difficult to tell with Klingons, particularly when one couldn't see their faces. "Is that all?"

Victor turned that over in his head for a moment. Perhaps she was serous, and she wanted to know why he hadn't listed the half-dozen aging and scattered relatives that were listed in his personnel file. Perhaps she was irritated that he'd listed more relatives than she had. Perhaps it was something else - it didn't matter, he was done with this game. "Yes."

She grunted once in response, waited for another three minutes of silence, and then snapped, "I still have questions."

For a moment Victor pondered the ramifications of suggesting that she ask them of someone that was concerned with that fact, but decided against it. No sense making things worse than they were going to be. "Pick one," he suggested, falling back on the phrase he'd used several times before.

After a momentary pause in which Victor thought he could discern the sound of teeth grinding, she spat out, "The Cardassian. Why does he work for you?"

"He doesn't." That had been simple enough.

"He took orders from you."

Nothing was ever simple any more. "He took orders from the latinum my aunts paid him... and the people he thinks us to be."

K'vala took a moment to digest that. "Who does he think you to be?"

Victor set the testing probe down and closed his eyes, trying to pretend that he was somewhere else, back on the Galaxy in his quarters, perhaps listening to the sound of Grey sleeping. That seemed to help. "That's obvious, isn't it?"

"No." The Klingon woman's voice included undertones of repressed frustration and anger this time.

"All right then," Victor repeated slowly, as if to a child, "look at it this way. He is not a fool, so when he is offered latinum to watch the system, he checks my aunts out. A little vesala to grease the wheels, and he discovers that they are the Idrani, that they own the system, and that their kin - all of them - have been killed in the War. They ask him to do little, pay him well for it, so he watches to see what will happen before he does anything that might be a mistake."

"Understandable."

"He knows that there are no people on the planet, because he scans it. He knows that there are ships there, for the same reason. There is no traffic except for the two Andorians and a pair of humans, and they merely appear, do maintenance on the ships, and leave. They never enter Cardassian space, never bring in cargos, and never stay long periods of time. He gets curious, and he checks further. The humans are related by marriage to the Andorians through a conveniently dead uncle. One of them spent time on Cardassian Prime as part of the occupation force. He was transferred off-planet after he intervened in an assault on a Cardassian native by two Starfleet officers - an unusual event in the post-War environment. The other human is assigned to the same ship as the Andorians, a Galaxy-class ship that patrols the Cardassian DMZ, on which they are both second-in command of their departments, the best position to learn things without attracting attention to one's self."

The Attendant grunted.

"Now one of the humans appears with a Klingon woman, takes a ship out for the first time, and heads towards Klingon space. He warns the Cardassian not to allow the woman back in without himself or one of the other three individuals he knows." Victor paused. "What do you think is in the Cardassian's mind?"

It only took a few seconds for the Attendant to respond, "Spies! He believes you to be... black... black as night. You said this ship was 'black as night' to the Dal. " She hissed. "The Order! He believes you to be spies for the Obsidian Order within the Federation! *That* is why he takes orders from you!"

"Correct." Maybe he could get the work on the shuttle done now.

Her disruptor hummed to life again. "Are you?"

Or maybe not. "Attendant, exactly what answer do you think I will give to that question? If I am such a spy, I will assuredly answer 'no,' and if I am not, I will likewise answer 'no' - which would you prefer?"

"Tell me," she snarled.

Maybe she would shoot him this time. Maybe she'd pull the trigger and then everything would, for the first time in his life, be easy. No more fights, no more sheep to watch over, just... nothing. Victor set down his tools and reached out to grasp the edge of the shuttle and slide over so he could look up at the Klingon woman. If she were going to shoot him, he wanted her to have an instantly fatal target. Amateurs sometimes botched things and left targets to linger.

Her glare was almost as powerful as the weapon she held and aimed at him. "Tell me," she repeated.

"Is there a purpose to this, Attendant?" He squinted up at her for a second. "Besides showing me that you have an appalling amount of carbon build-up on your disruptor's emitter?"

"Tell me!" she repeated in a growl.

"Tell you what, Attendant? That I'm not a spy? There's no point to that. We just went over it, remember? Weren't you listening?"

"Tell me!" Her voice rose a few decibels in volume.

Victor looked at her for a moment. "What exactly, do you want me to say here, Attendant? We both know that no matter what the truth is, the answer will be the same. We both know that you won't believe the answer, no matter what. You aren't that stupid, and you have no reason to trust me. So what, exactly, is it that you want to hear from me that will convince you otherwise?"

"Tell me," she repeated yet again, eyes boring into his like phaser drills, her voice a lethal hiss, barely under control.

Victor frowned. It was stupid, pointless but... " All right, Attendant, if that's what you want." He met her eyes. "I am not, not have I ever been, a spy for the Obsidian Order. My sister is not a spy for the Order. My aunts are not spies for the Order. If Dal Halvalek thinks we are, then that's his mistake, assisted by things I and the others have said, and serves only to keep him in line and prevent his looting Rexa and Ar'resh's planet." He paused. "Happy now?"

The Attendant's eyes drilled into his for another few heartbeats, and then she thumbed off the disruptor and holstered it. Her voice was less charged with violence, but still carried undertones of it as she hissed, "Yes."

He studied her for a moment, head tilted to the side, and then nodded once. It made no sense, but then so few things that involved other people did that he was used to that. If she was willing to be convinced by a few words that carried no weight, or at least pretend that she'd been, then that was enough for now. She could only kill him once, anyway.

As he looked up the black leather-clad length of her, something prompted him to change the subject. "Can you fly?"

K'vala blinked and shook her head as the question derailed her thoughts. "Fly?"

Why was it that no one could answer simple questions? Was there something that required that he add fifteen unnecessary words to a sentence to make it understandable? "A ship, Attendant," Victor tried again. "Are you rated for handling a starship of this size?" That was only thirteen words, but it might do.

"No." She sounded like the admission was painful. "I cannot." She slapped the side of the shuttle. "This, yes. The runabout that we took from Starbase 212, yes. Nothing larger."

That wasn't good, but it could have been worse. "Are you rated for any shipboard duty stations?"

"Yes," she snapped, obviously not liking the fact that she was not qualified to do something he could. "I am rated for sensors, operations, and some engineering; although that was on ships that were made in this century. I can also run a cloaking device if this decrepit old wreck has one."

"It doesn't." Victor frowned in thought. If she could handle the engineering duties, which were his weakest point, that was a big help. "The ship's more up-to-date than it looks, Attendant. It's also fairly heavily automated - we should be able to run it with just the two of us as long as you can handle engineering."

"If this thing has anything in it made this century, then I can make it work," she snapped back, injured pride flashing in her eyes.

"Good." Victor started to slip back under the shuttle, paused, and asked, "Can you cook?"

The expression on the Attendant's face would have been priceless if Victor had cared about such things. "What?" she exploded.

"Cook. Prepare food. Gaak notwithstanding, you are familiar with the concept, are you not?" Victor failed to see what was so complicated about the notion.

"You... expect... me... to... cook?" For a second, she looked as if she was going to draw the disruptor again, but she clenched her hands into fists instead. "What do you take me for? One of your pathetic, simpering human woman?"

Victor spent a moment wondering if there was a book somewhere that would tell him how to understand why people never understood what he was saying. "I don't take you for anything, Attendant - I've already told you that once before. I also have no women, simpering, pathetic, or otherwise. What I do have is the knowledge that this ship has a working galley as opposed to a food replicator - Uncle Thalick converted the forward port stateroom on Deck Three years ago because he hated the taste of replicator food."

The Attendant, her hair almost standing on end in anger, paused in mid-inhale, mouth open, no sound emerging from her lips.

Victor continued before she remembered how to speak. "That means that one or both of us is going to have to physically prepare food or we're going to be eating survival rations. Since I don't know what Klingon rations taste like, I can't make that choice for you, but I do know what Starfleet-issue ration packs taste like, and it isn't anything I care to eat. Your choice. I think I saw a case of Klingon survival rations in Hold Two as I came through." He pointed forward along the deck.

After a second, she said, "Klingon rations are enough to live and fight on!"

"Like I said, your choice," Victor started to slide back under the shuttle again. He didn't even want to think what rations designed by a committee of Klingons for warriors tasted like. What did the Klingons keep in cages like birds, anyway?

After a moment, the Attendant's feet turned and she stomped off, her boots echoing angrily on the floor.

"Bring on the Day"

Lieutenant (jg) Ammanalyn Llywhyn
Assistant Chief Counselor
USS Galaxy

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

"What do you suppose it is that is happening to us, Tam?" Ammanalyn asked as they moved down the halls of Starbase 212's residential deck toward her temporary quarters: larger than they should have been given that a misunderstanding resulted in Tampatiaen being counted as an autonomous being.

She was in a relatively good mood despite Tampatiaen's ill humor. She was dancing on her way down the corridor, a small smile on her face, swaying her arms as she stepped in the Daedryn form of ballet she practised as a child. It was made a little more difficult in the combat boots she wore, but the dance was a second nature, and frankly, she found the heavier footfalls added something to it.

Tampatiaen, in his leopard shape, brushed his head against her knee, stopping her. She sighed. "Spoil sport." He said nothing. They had hardly exchanged two spoken words of conversation since leaving the Breen Embassy. They certainly had not discussed what had occurred there.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking toward me right now," she said, looking down at him, "it is one thing to be upset by your person's actions, Tam, it is another to be down-right..." What was he, exactly? She looked down as she paused at the door of her quarters, then rested a hand on his furry forehead. She brushed her thumb in the indentation between his large, wide set light blue eyes. "Hurt. To be so hurt because of something I had no control over."

Suddenly, his silence had weight. He hefted a large sigh and shimmered into ermine form, catching her pant leg and buried his face from view in the fabric. It solicited an eye-role from his person as Ammanalyn lifted her hand to the key pad, beginning to touch-in her access code. At the last number, she suddenly stopped.

"Am?" Tam's voice, now at her ear (she hadn't even felt him crawling up, but remained unsurprised as she was accustomed to his maneuvering), asked. "What is wrong?"

"Time's up. Running stops."

She turned, feeling Tampatiaen's grip on her shoulder tighten upon seeing the presences of the man coming to standstill in front of them-- he wore the colours of a Monk of the Dust, his shaved, tanned head gleaming under the lights of the corridor.

<<You must now return,>> he said, in ancient Daedrae. <<The Dust calls you home.>>

The PADD he presented was a bit of surprised. Honestly, she expected more, a weapon perhaps, or something as menacing. She reached forward and took it slowly, eyes focused on his Daemon-- a sparrow-- resting on his shoulder. She was a quivering thing, a purple glint from her otherwise unremarkable feathers. In short-- he was not a threat. Not in the least.

<<What is it?>>

<<Your call home. Our shuttle departs in three hours. You will be upon it.>> Ancient Daedrae left little room for argument regardless of who spoke the phrase, but this Brother left no room for maneuverability whatsoever.

Quite honestly, Ammanalyn thought as the Brother turned and disappeared down the corridor, Daedrice was the last place in the 'verse that she wanted to be at the moment. Pressing the PADD against her chest she bowed her head as she turned and quickly entered her quarters. She stood against the closed door for a long moment, feeling Tampatiaen's warm comfort against her neck. Then, composure all but retrieved, she raised the PADD and read the very simply message.

"The Headmaster lays dying. Your attendance is required. Return at once."

Once. Twice. Three times. Then out loud.

"Does this mean I have been accepted then?"

"Perhaps," Tampatiaen voice said. "Though perhaps they mean to make it two."

"Right. Always a possibility." She frowned. "We shall be careful then."

"Lest we again be accused of death."

"I fail to see how that could happen."

"We failed to see on that first occasion as well."

Ammanalyn nodded. "And then there were eleven."

"Twelve."

"Twelve?" She looked upon her Daemon, who smiled slightly at her to all the extent he was capable.

"You always forget your own inclusion."

She was silent for a long moment before she moved to sit down, staring around at the scarcely decorated, dimly lit quarters done in the same neutral colours as every Starfleet ship and station.

"Then you think that is what this... means. My inclusion within the order?" While it was something a part of her had wanted all her life, it was also something she'd never actually thought she would gain, and the thought of being a part of this thing, this thing that had done her so much wrong and harmed so many, turned her stomach. She almost preferred the others standing in her way of it-- that gave her the perfect way out. "I have never attended a death," she said, though as she spoke the thought out loud, the image of Brother Lucean's last breath sparked in her memory. "Not a formal Death, anyway."

She looked down at the PADD again. "I am afraid, Tam."

But even as she said these words, she didn't feel them. In fact, she felt little but Tampatiaen's small nervous shiver against her skin and the thought from earlier rang in her mind.

What was happening to them?

"Was It Weird For You?" (part 2)

Klaus "Dok" Fienberg
Naranda Sol Roswell

LOCATION: Starbase 212: Outside "the Pub"

~Well, I opened myself up........I hope she intends to partake in this exchange of pain.~

"I noticed something odd about your 'exertion' during the mission?"

Nara looked at him, "How do you mean?" She did seem to had been a bit sadistic. The mines were inanimate. She felt no need to care about their destruction. She was a warrior dang it. Sometimes you get a little excited over killing something that would otherwise kill you. It's part of the glory of it all.

"When I think back, I feel similar, nearly the same......the same pain and hatred I felt in my own." Klaus was certain. Something was paining Nara....greatly.

Nara became nervous much like when she first boarded Vr'lu. She gulped, "It could have been anyone...even you." Nara fidgeted and finally sighed, "I don't know. One thing it seemed to have awakened is this something. Something happened I know...at the Academy I think. I just refuse to see it."

"I won't pry.......it is your choice if you want to face it now. The only reason I revealed Engleman is because I may be able to do something about him soon. Just need an unusual leave....." He trailed off....watching Nara.

Nara slumped into her chair closing her eyes as a face invaded her thoughts. She shook her head to get it out. She didn't want to see it here. "I don’t think it's a choice. It seems to want to be dealt with. Just not here. Someplace where there aren't so many eyes."

"Of course. If you wish. Where would you suggest." Klaus' eyes watched carefully. His hands were together, partially clasped. His left index, middle finger and thumb were touching his wedding band, just holding it.

Nara grinned at his subtle meaning, "No worries doctor. This is not an advance." She frowned again, "But whatever this is, I don't want to be seen being emotional. However, for both our reputations, what secluded yet innocent area is there?"

"Sorry. I just tend to get a little skittish when dealing with women. Ever since I've been married...or ever since a little incident with some 'unusual' androids. Perhaps in one of the maintenance bays or something."

Nara cocked an eyebrow at the mention of androids. Definitely something to ask about if they became friends. For now it was simply that she was looking at him as someone who had shared a mission with her and would understand anything it had done to her. Nara nodded and stood.

"I have an idea as where we can go. I know of a small lounge here on the station that is rarely inhabited. I have affectionately dubbed it 'The Hole.'" Klaus stood up, adjusted his robe-belt, and motioned Nara to follow.

As they walked she said, "And if you have any questionable dealings with women, let me know. My second officer in the Sakarian war had similar problems, and I can be pretty convincing as to consequences when it comes to messing with a friend." Nara laughed, "Of course had his wife been around, she would have had worse consequences for them."

"Not to worry....I'm a faithful man. I'm just glad I'm not.......well, another story for another time."

Nara looked at him up and down and smirked noticing the robe again, "You wanna change?" She was sure he wouldn't. He seemed quite comfortable. She wasn't bothered with being seen with a man in a bathrobe, but it just seemed like a quirky thing to say.

"Yes...that would be wise. I am wearing pajamas under this however......It can be cold on a station, but that may just be my cold blood. Thankfully my quarters are on the same deck. Go to Deck 11; Section 6, and try to find Lounge 142." Klaus walked away; perhaps it would be wise to wear something else.

"Meet you there." She walked away toward the turbolift.

<10 minutes pass>

LOCATION: Lounge 142

Nara sits in the lounge absently biting a nail. She tried to get herself to look at the face in her memory. Such negative feelings seemed to be triggered by it. Anger. Fear. Shame. She wasn't sure why. Or maybe she did and she didn't want to admit it.

Klaus walked in, in black slacks and a white, long-sleeved button down. Rare for this day and age, but he liked this ancient style. "Well.....I see you found it. You don't often see DUST in a star base do you?"

Nara looked at him. The style looked from Earth. Some people still chose to wear it. He pulled it off well. She honestly hadn't noticed dust. "I hadn't noticed. Been too busy dusting the cobweb in my memory. Except there seems to be a HUGE spider still living there and I do NOT want to approach it."

"If I have learned anything, those with pain always have a spider. Breed depending on the size of the pain. At least mine has a name...." He came in and sat down, whimsically wiping the dust up with a finger and wiping it on his pants.

"Mine has a face I don't want to see. But it's there. Invading. Such an invasive..." She paused. The other emotion was invasion. She mumbled thinking out loud, "But what did he invade?"

"I wish I could put my hand on your face, and heal your pain....but I have also learned that our pain is part of what makes us who we are. You must never forget the pain, but you must face it, and gain strength from it." He paused for a moment. "Hey, listen to me, I sound like some sort of Vulcan counselor....but the wisdom is valid, and something I need to learn to follow myself."

Nara hugged he knees to herself feeling the truth surfacing and wishing for the warm sun and breeze of Sakaria. "He was an instructor. We're supposed to trust him." She said this still willing the painful truth to stay back, but it seemed to refuse to.

"Well, I'll be the first to admit that I still suffer slightly from post traumatic stress. You must face and come to terms with your pain, something I am still doing. I was an alcoholic for many years. I'm no psychologist. But I do know what happens when you become self destructive." Klaus felt his wrist. A phantom pain seemed to appear......."Ah...the miracles of dermal regeneration. How easily it can make us forget."

Nara looked at him, "Huh?" She thought back. She remembered a few days of pain...and she remembered bruises. She remembered where the main pain had been and realization hit her, "Oh no..." She felt shocked. It had been floating there, but just now as she let herself believe it, she wasn't sure how to react.

"Well, I won't hide it. I slashed that wrist with a large piece of broken glass several years ago. There were a LOT of reasons that drove me too it......I guess I had to hit rock bottom before I come back up." Klaus had said before realizing what was going on with Nara. "What? What's the matter? Are you alright?"

Nara looked at him as if he had appeared out of nowhere. "Huh? Oh....I...." She stood and paced wrapping her arms around herself. "I know what he did now...." She felt overwhelmed. She wanted to kill something. She wanted to cry in her mother's arms. She wanted to...she wasn't sure.

Klaus thought he might know.......but not totally. It wasn't like he hadn't cared for the aftermath of what he thought had happened to Nara. "Did he.....?" Klaus didn't want to say the word......not always good to say that to a victim.

"P'Ruq." Nara said it in Sakarian. It held more emotion behind it speaking on stealing, dishonoring, and evil.

"Raub" Klaus said it in German. "So I thought......as I said I'm not a counselor......But we all have our Pain. You will need professional help to finish dealing with this. I suppose I have just been your gateway....."

Nara looked at him, "No! I can't tell this to anyone! I couldn't then. Certainly not now!" Nara stood up straight brushed her uniform smooth and tried to look strong. "I pushed it back once, I can do it again!" Except she couldn't. Stupid Cernu had opened something she couldn't close. She slumped onto the couch weeping.

Klaus knew not to pry any longer. But he still had something to say. "You must tell, and you must heal.....or it will eventually crush your soul.....I may have been saved from my darkest moment, but there is no guarantee. I was very lucky that I was supposed to be on shift.......Just listen to me. Seek help; you know where to find it." He stood up....not sure if he should leave.

Nara saw him ready to leave. She jerked suddenly remembering something. She looked over to a clock. "Oh, I have to meet Cernu..." Nara thought a moment. Perhaps she should stay and do as Klaus suggested.

Or maybe she can learn from Cernu how to block things. Still a little shaky but hopeful she can once again forget she stood and patted Klaus' shoulder, "No promises, but thanks, friend."

"Glad to hear it. It's never easy. Just heal your wounded mind before you start having flashbacks......." He turned around and began to leave. Cassius had invited him to have a drink of coffee tomorrow.

Nara paused a moment. Flashbacks? She shrugged it off and went to meet Cernu.

"If you can't stand the heat, pt 1 of 2"

Lieutenant J.G. Dhanishta Eshe - Engineering Officer
Ensign Saul Bental - Intelligence Officer

It took Saul about an hour once his shuttle connected with Starbase 212's docking bays, before he began to regret coming back before the refit was over.

Saul always travelled light, which was an advantage when a minor hull breach decides to emerge exactly on the outer wall of your quarters and suck all your possessions into the freezing embrace of space.

Saul didn't really get used to his room, so when he was told that he was going to reside in enlisted crew quarters on the Stardrive section for the next couple of months, he shed no tears.

Pretty soon, it was too dry to shed any tears at all!

The vacant room - probably a deceased crewmember's abandoned home - was a furnace. At first, Saul tried to just read a book or go over Intelligence reports, ignoring the heat. After a while, he removed his jacket, then his shirt, the switched his long pants with shorts.

It only allowed the sweat to drip freely toward the floor without soaking his clothes first.

But not an innovative and resourceful Starfleet officer like Saul Bental would surrender! No no, Saul tried to adjust the atmospheric settings with the room's central console, then ordered the doors open, and finally asked the replicator to replicate him a hand-held ventilator.

'That should do the trick.' Saul thought to himself as he returned to the PADD, victoriously.

Five minutes later, after finally admitting his defeat, Saul knelt on the floor next to his uniform, pressed the commbadge and asked Engineering to send in the Cavalry.

**Engineering Dept on Star-base 212**

Dhani strolled into Main Engineering. She was wearing a pair of dark green ankle-swinging trousers and a black string vest top. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders. The scaring from the battle was still visible, but at least most of it had gone. On her left hip sat Salem, her cat. And on the other, bouncing with each step she took rested her tool kit. She scanned the room for a familiar face. And smiled when she spotted one.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Jiiles questioned as he approached. He was more than glad to see her, “For a while everyone thought that you were dead!”

“I’m okay.” Dhani replied, “Just glad to be alive.” Her eyes fell from his face as she recalled the few people’s names that she knew who didn’t make it back.

Jiiles rubbed her arm, diverting a moment to scratch Salem’s head. He knew who Dhani was thinking of at this moment; the missing member of their team; Assistant Chief Grey. The two of them stood subdued by the sadness of it all for a moment.

Dhani was the first to break the silence,

“I’m going to leave my tool kit here, just encase anyone needs it while I’m away” she said as she slid the tool kit off her shoulder.

“So where are you going then, dressed like that?” he questioned with a cheeky grin across his face, part of him wished that she would invite him to go with her, but then why would she? All she saw in him was a colleague.

“Ah,” Dhani said raising her eyebrows, “to the tranquil monasteries below.” She replied as she handed him the kit, “Take care of her now wont you? I don’t want jamy finger marks on any of my tools, okay?”

Jiiles nodded. He understood how personal an engineer’s kit could be. He felt a weird tingle that she had asked him to look after her kit; maybe he was special after all. It didn’t occur to him that he was the only familiar face with in the room.

The monitor beeped <Incoming message> the computer called out.

Jiiles turned from Dhani to read it.

“Huh, there is some fluctuation in the temperature controls in….Ensign Bental’s temporary quarters. Gee these kids think that we have nothing better to do than to make sure they have a comfortable temperature to ….”

“Jiiles,” Dhani interrupted his grumbling, “I’ll have a look at it. It’s on my way any way.”

“But you’re on leave…” he protested slightly embarrassed at his outburst.

After about a five minute bickering session Dhani left Jiiles to deal with the bigger problems, hitched her tool kit back on her shoulder, tightened her grip on her cat and proceeded to Ensign ‘petty problems’ quarters.

***10 minutes later****

Dhani approached Bentals quarters she found it strange that his door was wide open but as she stepped in she realised why. The heat wave slapped her in the face, with a huge sweaty palm. She took a step back, almost bumping to another officer, who quickly passed the open door. Dhani stayed in the open door way, not wanting to intrude, she pressed the door buzzer and waited for the ensign to invite her in.

A head emerged from the far side of the bed occupying most of the narrow room. She could see only the upper half of the face - the person was probably kneeling - but the way the brown eyes beneath the dense eyebrows fixed on her figure was not hard to decipher. Dhani could easily guess what his entire facial expression looked like. She shifted slightly under the man’s gaze. She was almost inclined to find a mirror and check her outfit, maybe she had some big stain on it, but then she knew better than that. She spent so much time working in Engineering and focussing on NOT having a social life that she was rarely seen outside of the uniform, and she almost forgot that she had a figure!

"Shalom there." Saul said, smiling sheepishly as he stood up. He was averagely-built, with brown hair, that needed to see a barber, and brown eyes which needed to stop peering at her.

"You're the sixth person to check out why this door is wide open, and the prettiest so far by the way." he added, the words coming out of his mouth like cars trying to pass a jammed crossroads.

Dhani smiled at the complement and shifted the rapidly warming fur bundle in her arms. Her black hair almost covered Salem, who now began to fidget.

"I'd invite you in but my room's life support is messed up. That's why the door's open. I tried to fix it myself, but it looks like I'll have to wait until someone from Engineering will be KIND and NICE enough to bother leaving their work and save me from being fried like a potato chip. I wonder if a bribe would hasten them."

“That all depends on the bribe.” Dhani said a small smile danced across her lips. She knelt down and let Salem crawl out of her arms. He padded across the floor to the replicator and sat before it expectantly.

“Do you mind?” Dhani asked gesturing to her cat.

"Of course not, I like animals - though my taste is more exotic." Saul assured her, petting the cat. "Poor thing, it's so hot and you're stuck with your fur."

The cat didn't seem to care about the heat once Saul replicated him some cat-food. Luckily, the Galaxy's Replicators contained some pre-programmed food rations for felines. Saul selected one which didn't contain Tuna - he hated the smell.

"There you go." he said, then continued without turning back to her, "I'm Saul Bental, a pleasure to meet you."

He found it easier to say it to the cat, and since he felt his face warming up and not because of the surrounding temperature, he figured he should keep his back to her for now, while he had a valid, furry excuse.

“His name is Salem.” Dhani told him as she walked into his quarters, “Salem-Sebastian.”

She ordered three waters from the replicator, two in glasses and one in a bowl. Setting the bowl of water down next to the cat food she watched Saul fuss over her cat and smiled. She tapped him on the shoulder and held out the second glass of water for him.

“So, what about that bribe?” she questioned with a twinkle in her dark green eyes.

Saul still didn't get the hint. "I've got some little authentic action figures from Sakaria. Engineers are the kind of people who collect gadgets and thingys, maybe it could be used as a bribe."

Dhanis response was raised eyebrows.

“I don’t collect gadgets.” She contested quietly as she made her way to the rooms’ environmental control systems panel.

Saul always resorted to lousy sense of humour when he was embarrassed by the presence of pretty women. It was a bad trait he had since he was a street boy on Utrecht, and he wasn't going to give up a bad habit now. "Maybe." he acted as though he was thinking hard, brushing his chin, "Maybe I'll let them have fun with some of the Orion slave girls we secretly keep in the Intelligence CIC. Yes, that could do the trick."

Dhani had already removed the panel and was now running a diagnostic on the unit.

“The Chief wouldn’t allow us to ‘play’ with Orion slave girls. He’s an activist for their freedom.” She told him as she mulled over the readouts.

"Chief? Ha? Ahh. ugh. Oh."

Saul felt as though his brain was submerged in mud, barely able to move forward with its thoughts or see what's outside, but realization slowly crept into it, even though it was distracted by the presence of the beautiful woman.

No, not just a beautiful woman; a beautiful engineer.

Considering her and Nara, the ship appeared to be full of them.

"Chief, as in Chief Engineer Ethan Suder?"

Dhani nodded, “Yes” she replied.

“Well I’m glad.” She said snapping the tricorder closed, “I was worried that your malfunctions were due to the Quick virus. Your command circuits are fused that’s all.”

She didn’t even pause to look at his baffled face, just tapped her com. badge,

“Eshe to Engineering.”

>Engineering here.< came the crisp reply.

“I need you to replicate a command circuit for an environmental control system, and send it down to me.”

>Aye Lieutenant.<

Tapping her badge she closed the channel and then pulled out the fused circuit, a 4” by 4” box. Turning to face Saul she said,

“That’s your problem right there.” she held it up for him to see.

Saul took it, his fingers brushing against her. He couldn't suppress a silent 'Wow'.

Then, he re-ran the previous couple of minutes in his mind, realizing he owned the woman an apology.

"Listen, umm." he brushed the back of his head with his fingers, quite embarrassed. "I'm sorry about the bribe thing, it was a bad, um. bad, yes. I think you're doing great work down in Engineering, great work, yes, and it's a pity there's still pleasure slave trade going on these modern, enlightened days. And, umm, thanks."

Dhani smiled at him and half chuckled,

“No harm, no foul.” She said trying desperately to cover up a smug smile.

Silence crept in to the room as Saul dealt with his embarrassment and Dhani tried not to crease up with laughter. She was looking forward to her vacation, after which she was hoping that she wouldn’t feel like laughing, or crying or any other humanoid emotion again. Everything would go back to normal…. Whatever that was.

"I will make it up to you..." Saul mumbled. Indeed, you can't just insult people who come to your aid. It was... unethical, once again.

He wanted to add something in the direction of 'Perhaps a dinner should do the trick', or something like that, but the thoughts just refused to form into words and come out of his mouth in orderly sentences.

He, Saul Bental, the cunning offspring of a family of merchants, the guy who could sell ice to the Breen and spots the Trill, the man who survived the harsh streets of Utrecht III only thanks to his ability to turn words and ideas into shields, swords and profit, couldn't ask a pretty woman out even if you would've pointed a disruptor at his head.

A young timid ensign appeared at the door way. Dhani waved him in and exchanged the faulty circuit for the new one. Still submerged in the silence she changed the circuit over and almost instantly the temperature dropped.

The heat was no longer a problem, but he still felt as though he needed to open another button in his collar.

Dhani was about to reconfigure the command functions but the sudden change in temperature made her chest hurt. She started coughing, hard. It felt like someone had thumped her in the stomach and followed it by stuffing a read hot poker into her lungs.

"Are you OK, Engineering lady?", Saul asked carefully.

Dhani didn't reply. The most annoying thing about coughing is the crap it brought up. She could feel the spittle on her lips and wiped it away on the back of her had. She didn't notice the blood that smudged across her hand as she tried to finish the alterations. Another hard cough and she 'palmed' the device. Leaning hard against the wall she found it increasingly difficult to breathe and let her self slide down the wall till she was kneeling on the floor.

The room got colder…..

"Sitting Inside the Belly of a Whale" (part 1)

Naranda Sol Roswell,
USS Galaxy

Cernu,
USS Miranda

Vr'lu,
He IS the ship :)

LOCATION: Aboard Living Ship, Vr'lu

~It is highly unusual~ Vr'lu told him for the ninth time in the last fifteen minutes.

~I KNOW that Bondmate~ Cernu replied, stressing the word again ~but she needs assistance and I have a mission of sorts to perform and she won't be in the way. As a matter of fact, I doubt she'd *see* anything anyway~

~Perhaps we should confine her to me?~ the bioship asked, trying to create options that wouldn't enrage the Hierarchy any further.

~I know what they'll say and I know how they will react~ he replied uneasily. ~However, they wish me to mate and I wish to help this person and if they wish the one, they will tolerate the other. Besides, there are Federation Ambassadors present she can interact with while I am...whatever, I'll be doing~

~Those Ambassadors are in the Habitat and you know it~ Vr'lu sent back irritably, which surprised them both ~you mean to bring her to the surface and such a thing has not happened for centuries. The last aliens that set foot on the Homeworld...~

~..Were annihilated. Yes, I remember, as you well know. But the Federation is not the Trenk Consortium and do not seek to predat upon us either. Sooner or later it will be needed and this one is not psiblind like the Ambassadors~ he was become irritable and having a difficult time keeping his temper. They'd been arguing like this ever since Nara had boarded and they had departed the Starbase.

~That may be what concerns the Hierarchy the most~ Vr'lu replied troubled, sensing the irritation but not yet willing to give in ~It was specifically requested that the Ambassadorial staff NOT be psionic at all so we could more easily keep tabs on them~

~I know but that really isn't practical anymore~ Cernu told him tiredly. ~I am the first to evolve to Elder-status and I will be the first to take a mate back into the Federation. Already the Federation has biometric data on myself and a little on you-soon many of our secrets will no longer matter and the decisions will have been made~

~But are you SURE you wish to be the one to advance those secrets into the open?~

~Do you think that Doctor Khat and Shinta haven't mentioned these things already in their own reports? Do you think my biometric data isn't already in the databases of the Starfleet already? Do you not think that my chosen mate will not have already been programmed and conditioned based on my own reports?~ he was tired and cranky now, the emotional value of the conversation was wearing thinly upon him. ~I should eat soon~

~I am preparing a meal as we speak~ Vr'lu advised him solicitously ~I am concerned for your wellbeing, as you know and it is my position to be your foil, from time to time~

~I recognize that~ Cernu replied uneasily; a touch of Forecasting perhaps? ~I know this will not be easy but at the same time I recognize the need for it~

Nara felt the tension. It was almost thick enough to cut with a phaser. She sighed sitting on her bed looking at the stars. She stood and walked out looking for Cernu, "I hope my being here isn't too much of an intrusion for you or Vr'lu. I really appreciate your willingness to help me, but if I'm causing trouble, maybe we should do this another time?"

Nara wasn't quite sure what his errand was.

~Unfortunately~ Cernu said as the bulkhead doors slid open ~we are already deep in subspace and on our way. If you wish to depart I can give you a pod with a beacon for pickup but I cannot divert my course or velocity. I apologize...~

Nara looked at him, "The only thing I wish is to not be of any trouble." Nara looked at the ship and wished she could talk to it like Iniara did. Cernu told her she was welcome. She wasn't so sure Vr'lu welcomed her here now. There was really no way to know how he felt. She didn't think Cernu would tell her one way or the other. She didn't fear the ship would per say somehow get her off the ship. She just wondered if he were a bit uncomfortable with the situation. She wondered if that would interfer with Vr'lu's systems. She smiled as she realized what it must be like to be a ship driving yourself, navigating yourself. She was sure if it were her, she'd hit a comet when her mind wandered.

::amusement/agreement::

~Vr'lu finds that imagery most amusing~ Cernu chuckled in her mind ~as do I. But to answer your unspoken question, there IS tension between us over you though it is merely your presence on this trip and my intentions and nothing you have otherwise done~

Nara thought a moment. She was startled they had known what she was thinking and a bit embarrassed at her odd thoughts being known. But her thoughts quickly turned to the tension mentioned. She didn't like the idea of a pod. She sighed deeply and gently touched the wall as if it was something tangible to communicate with, "I promise to be out of the way as much as possible. I could say you wouldn't even know I was here, but well..." Nara knew Vr'lu would know the rest. She was IN him...very well noticeable in that. "However if you would like me to leave, I will oblige." Nara somehow warmed up quite considerably to the being she once thought nothing more of a plant and then feared. She didn't want to cause him any uncomfort.

::understanding/reassurance::

~You will not be "in the way" Nara~ Cernu reassured her gently ~we have had more than one disagreement and will do so again. It’s just that this trip home is for the choosing of a mate and it is a difficult time. But thanks to us, you also may be going through a difficult time and we wish to help you through it~ He shrugged eloquently ~It made sense to combine these tasks~

Nara shrugged, "A mate, huh?" She thought a moment choosing her words more carefully, "How long do you have?" Nara wasn't sure why she was asking. Holding her curiosity in check didn't last long at all. She wanted to offer help, but never really being in a relationship herself hardly qualified her to be a matchmaker. She also wanted to ask why did he need to choose a mate. It seemed odd timing. She was probably crossing a line with her last question. Then she realized they could hear her thoughts, "Forgive my curiosity. The questions I have not spoken, please do not feel obliged to answer. My mind wanders and I forget you can hear it." She felt embarrassed and tried to focus her mind on the texture of Vr'lu's walls.

~Well therein lies an explanation which it will hurt nobody for you to know~ he told her, indicating seating as he stepped to the small galley and took a bowl and a sipping globe. The globe looked like any other zero-g drinking squeezer and it appeared to have some sort of juice in it while the bowl seemed to have six or seven fist-sized tadpole eggs in it, complete with visible half-formed embryos. Taking one he popped it into his mouth and began to chew quietly as he began to explain. ~I have only recently matured and entered my 'adult' stage of life. My people breed slowly and with great difficulty and so reproduction is very important to us. We have the technology to clone and engineer new infants and have done so in the past when plague and disaster have wasted our numbers to near-extinction, but it is something we do only as a last resort. Because of these factors, every new adult is presented to any other adult or near-adults, which are the closest genetically viable match. I am told there are sixteen matches, to whit I am recalled to meet and hopefully find as a mate~ He popped another egg into his mouth and chewed it and took a sip of juice before continuing ~As far a the timeframe is concerned, I have perhaps a solar month to find a suitable companion and declare my mate before we must leave for the Miranda. However, if I do not find a mate in that time, my people may require me to stay until I DO~

Nara tried not to look disgusted at what Cernu was eating. Living among different species and seeing what they eat should adapt people to such things. However, one simply cannot escape what they personally find gross. She tried to imagine them as grapes. Nara wondered about the sixteen possible mates. She smiled as she mused, "Like a beauty contest." Nara was guessing that wouldn't be the only thing he judged on, but it sure didn't hurt. Nara looked at him, "What if someone chooses someone who is not in that selection? Like say if he casually met someone and fell in love. Would he not be allowed to choose her?" Nara worried about that. She wondered if she should help keep any females away if that was the case. Best not let his heart love something only to tear it away. But love has a way of just showing up.

~Things are different with our species~ Cernu replied thoughtfully ~the emotion of "love" seems to spring from the suitability of the mate, something like a by-product of the process. I could explain the biological reasons for it and how the process works, but suffice to say that if I find a mate that is in all ways suitable for pairing and reproduction I will love it almost immediately~

Nara pondered a bit as she lifted a knee up to her chest resting her chin on her knee. But she was getting caught up in someone's affairs that were not her own and losing sight of why she really came. She looked at Cernu again changing the subject, "How DO you do that? Speak to my mind. And why can Vr'lu hear me and I cannot hear him?"

~I speak to your mind the same way you speak verbally to other sound-based communicating species~ he replied easily. ~The sound leaves your mouth and others hear the sound. Likewise, I "speak" telepathically and any receptive mind "hears" me, though I can direct private communication to one mind out of many~ He cocked his head and regarded her thoughtfully, crest rising slightly ~Vr'lu hears you because like myself he not only hears and interprets your speaking voice but he is passively listening to the thoughts you are broadcasting at the world around you- like speaking to yourself verbally, anyone might overhear. You do not hear him because he does not speak directly to you, instead choosing to be careful and not chance overloading your perceptions with the force of his personality~

Nara smiled warming up more and more to the giant bioship. "He really is just a gentle giant isn't he?" In fact she really felt in conversation with two people. Which is accurate. She knew Cernu could hear her thoughts...or perhaps Vr'lu heard her and relayed them. She wondered if she could try to purposely speak to them. With that nervousness on her she could think of nothing to say. She decided to go with an age-old amplifying system-testing chant. ~Testing 1 2 3.~ She looked at Cernu and nervously smiled. ~I just thought I would try this. Feels really odd not to use my voice. I would guess this would more accurately project the right "tone" in speaking...I guess.~ Now Nara was rambling. She sometimes did that when she was nervous.

~You think very loudly 'Nara~ Cernu agreed with her, nodding once and flaring his crest. Now that she had made telepathic contact, she sensed overtones of emotional content when he 'spoke' to her, amusement and pleasure being foremost.

Nara hushed herself and came back to questions she needed to ask. ~I could be non-telepathic and STILL do this. I am Betazoid and do possess telepathic abilities, but I have been...well scared, if I'm honest with myself...to use them. I have learned through our last trip I can open my mind, but how do I close it? I feel I am more vulnerable to leak information since it's a more receptive beacon...and perhaps more is going out then I want.~

~There are two ways we can handle this 'Nara and I leave the decision up to you. Here, within Vr'lu, your mind is cradled against unwanted intrusion. You are well-shielded behind Vr'lu's automatic shields as well as his personal shielding and if need be, mine as well~ His crest flared slightly and shivered as he spoke again ~To help you learn how to prevent unwanted broadcast or unwanted intrusion, I can 'teach' you techniques for both or I can implant the knowledge of how it is done. The former takes time and practice while, if successful, the latter is accomplished in but a few moments~ She could sense soothing emanations coming from Cernu, with the clear intention of calming and making her feel comfortable.

"If you can't stand the heat, pt 2 of 2"

Lieutenant J.G. Dhanishta Eshe - Engineering Officer
Ensign Saul Bental - Intelligence Officer

"Hey, lady..." Saul tried, taking a step closer, then felt a cough of his own beginning to build down his throat. He sniffed the air - it was definitely colder. Instinctively, he exhaled - he could see the vapors.

Not good.

"Computer, open doors."

No response. The doors, which closed behind the Ensign, didn't comply. The air rapidly became too chilly for Saul's taste, and he could positively sense a breeze. He could endure the heat, but he hated the cold. He fell on one knee next to Dhani. Her cat brushed against him, and the touch of his fur was a little comfort.

Saul didn't see the blood on Dhani's hand as he addressed her. "I think it's still messed up... would you like me to contact the base and ask them to Transport us, or is it possible to fix the panel right now?"

Dhani shook her head and then nodded. Not sure if he got the message or if she had responded the way she had planned to the questions, he asked too many! She pointed to her tool kit profusely wagging her finger at it like it was a dogs' tail. She was finding it harder to breathe. The breeze picked up, it tossed her hair about like a leaf on a tree.

Saul furrowed his brow. He didn't know what the gesture the engineer made meant in Trill culture, but it certainly had something to do with the toolkit.

He picked it up and placed it gently next to her. The wind - it was quite obviously windy inside the room now - nearly turned it over, but Dhani caught it.

She opened the tool kit and fumbled about trying to find the hypo spray or the breathing mask she had been given by medical. But the wind picked up another pace. Whipping her long black hair against her face, blinding her, stinging her cheeks with its ferocity, she could feel the moisture in the air as it clung to her hair and began to freeze.

She had to reconfigure the controls!

She felt something slipping over her shoulders. Saul brought two blankets from the closet, and spread one over her. He wrapped himself in the other, and came around the toolkit in order to protect it from the wind.

The temperature kept dropping, she could feel her fingers numbing as she blindly and franticly fingered the inside of the case for the hypo.

"What are you looking for?" Saul demanded, but his voice barely carried away in the large noise of the rapidly growing blizzard. It was amazing, how modern technology could create a home-made storm in such a small space. Saul was too freezing to applaud, though.

Eurika! She found the hypo; pushing as much hair away from her neck as possible she jammed the hypo against the exposed skin. It took several minutes for the drugs to work. She could feel her chest loosen a little, but the cold had her whole body tensed, her teeth were chattering away ten to the dozen and she felt as if her whole body was fitting. Luckily it wasn't, it was just the cold!

"I can't believe it." Saul murmured as he saw what she was doing. And there, he assumed that she was looking for some magical solution to their situation. Instead, she was looking for a medicine. Perhaps it WAS a time to get themselves out with the aid of the station's site to site transporter. If only he could find his commbadge…

Alas, his uniforms were spread all over the room, being flung wildly by the winds. Also, a fog began to fill the room, and even with no winds it was nearly impossible for him to find the badge.

Merely two meters away, It was now the cold that had Dhani pinned, curled up trying to conserve heat and energy. But she had to get up. She could no longer see Saul, couldn't even hear him over the howling of the wind. The blizzard limited her sight dramatically, Saul could be right next to her and she would know, wouldn't even be able to feel his hand on her shoulder it was that cold.

She fought the urge to give up. Fought the wind and the snow, and what felt like ice beating her tender skin! And stood up. If the wind could just stay in one direction then that would be useful. But no, it kept chopping and changing. A weird thought crossed her mind regarding the Breen, but didn't stay long enough for her to form an actual thought on the subject. She focused her attention on the task at hand. She had to get to that panel. It wasn't that far away, but the wind was stronger than she expected.

Finally she found he wall and the panel. The ice had begun to build up around the controls and she cursed, cursed the Breen, cursed herself and cursed her broken down lungs; that was the Breen's fault so she cursed them again! As quickly as she could she pulled the forming ice off the device with her fingers; they were already numb and strangely the ice felt warm beneath her fingertips. With the ice removed she could get to the controls, and soon enough the temperature was on its way up.

Banging the panel closed she turned her back on it and began to smooth her tangled hair out of her eyes so she could find Saul.

A shadow approached her from behind. It was Saul, still covered in blanket, and he was holding something in his arms - her cat, nearly forgotten in the midst of the climatic disaster.

"Shouldn't we try to get out?!" He shouted, trying his best not to swallow any of the floating snowflakes.

Dhani shook her head. Her voice couldn't carry, not with the state of her lungs, but she hoped that he would read her lips,

- The temperature is on its way up, the gradual change will be better than the sudden- she mouthed to him, hoping that he would understand her. He just nodded his head, and so the two of them just remained silent for a while.

The snowflakes discontinued and the wind died. It was still cold but no longer freezing. Dhani looked up and into Saul's eyes,

"Sorry." Her voice came out low and broken but at least Saul could hear her now.

"Forget about it, not your fault anyway." Saul said. He was worried, and the concerns and adrenaline rush following the blizzard drove his awkwardness aside. Plus, the beautiful Engineer seemed less... intimidating... after what the indoors storm did to her.

"Let's get out of here." he offered her a hand. "Are you all right? Can you walk?"

Dhani agreed with a short nod. She paused to grab her kit; mainly the breathing mask out of her kit. She held the mask up to her face and took several deep breaths as Saul manually opened the door and took a step out in the warm corridor. Packing her tools away she closed the kit and joined him in the hall way.

She felt truly wretched. It *was* her fault, and as soon as she had enough air to breath she would protest her guilt. But in the mean time they both needed something warm to drink at least. Slinging the kit over her shoulder, interesting action one handed, she took another deep breath with the aid of the mask and then turned to Saul,

"Drink?" she asked him, "I owe you that much!" she stated whipping the mask back on for another few deep breaths.

The words just came out of Saul's mouth, without thinking. Later, on his way to Bajor, he would reflect back to his refusal, thinking about how dumb it was. He would give his entire profit from the Sakaria commodities just to turn the wheel back, but instead...

"Actually, I should report to my commander… but I would love to, maybe later today, as soon as I catch up." He mumbled, smiling sheepishly.

"No problem. You know where to find me." Dhani smiled, and then she and Salem left him alone in the corridor. He stood there, just gazing at her back and then at the empty corridor, for full four minutes. He was clearly still shaken from the blizzard.

'Well, I COULD use a drink, really.', he thought. When his shuttle landed, he heard two crewmen talking about the Galaxy's ten forward lounge being re-opened, and figured it would make a fine place to sip an orange juice and calm down a little.

He had no way of knowing that Cassius Henderson will find him there; And he had no way of knowing to what events will that fateful meeting lead.

"The Lord of the Ring!"

Chapter 2...The Nizgurlz

Starring Ensign Zeke Wikkins (Security)
and Leo Streely (NPC).

Also appearing for the first time: the dreaded Nizgurlz!

Previously: Our heroes were given an ancient nipple ring, said to be the key to unlocking a vast treasure. As nefarious parties conspired to reclaim the ring, Zeke and Leo were sent to the planet below...

Let us continue...

"So there were the Sanguinarians, nearly 8 feet tall with fangs dripping blood, looming over the women of the Science department. They had all removed their tops in the hopes that their ample and curvaceous breasts would somehow repel the invaders, but it was to no avail. My deputy, Lt. Commander Darkstar, had fallen after valiantly trying to Indian wrestle one of the fiends. The cold icy shadow of death had fallen upon them! The situation looked hopeless! The end was near!" Leo said to Ensign Wikkins as the two men walked down a densely wooded path on the planet's surface. "But then I leapt out of hiding and single handily defeated the alien creeps!"

"Brother Streely, allow me to pause to be sure I have this correctly." Wikkins said, stopping for a moment and propping his leg up on a fallen tree.

"The women bared their .... bosoms at the aliens?"

"Desperate people do desperate things." Leo said with a shrug.

"And the Lt. Commander was thy deputy?"

"The big lug was always getting himself into messes that I had to help pry him out of. It was the craziest thing. I donno how he survives without me. Speaking of which, I still can't find that guy. It's like he vanished off the face of the cosmos or something. Very strange." Leo said stroking a nonexistent goatee as the duo began walking again.

"How did thee manage to smite the heathens with nothing but thy bare hands?" Zeke asked, moving a branch away with his massive arm.

Leo paused and looked over their shoulders, then satisfied that nobody was around, he leaned foreword and whispered: "I know the 'Death Touch'."

"Thou knows of the..."

"SSSSHHHHHH!!!!" Leo said looking around again. Then he wiggled his fingers on his right hand. "Taught to me by a sage old Vulcan. Very lethal. I only unleash it's power in the most dire circumstances. Now let me tell you about my reward. Have you ever had 5 women.....Y
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AARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Leo screamed as he slipped and fell down a ravine. Wikkins slid down behind him in an effort to keep up with the screaming and tumbling man.

They landed in a tangled mass at the bottom of the mountain. Wikkins was quick to get to his feat and brushed himself off. Leo continued to lay spread eagle, with his face in a mushroom growth.

"OOOOOHHHHH I think I broke something." he muttered, then noticing the edible fungus, he licked his lips.

"Mushrooms!" he exclaimed as he began to nibble away.

The large security officer paid him no heed. Instead, he focused his attention to the woods to their left. He slowly knelt down and put his ear to the ground.

"Brother Streely, I think it would be best if we got off the road." he said, squinting to make out something in the distance.

Leo made no attempt to move, so Zeke grabbed him by the collar and in one smooth motion, hurdled a tree and found themselves a hiding spot amongst its huge roots. Leo started to protest, before the sounds of hoofbeats quieted him down.

Through a gap in the shrubs, they could see the long slender pale legs of the horse's rider. Streely was admiring their sleek, sexiness so much that he nearly crawled out of their hiding spot.

Almost.

The sight of her thick spiked gauntlets gripping the wood above them, combined with an ear splitting shriek were more than enough to keep him grounded.

He looked wild eyed back at Zeke, who moved closer to the little man.

"Now would be a good time for thy Touch of Death."

Leo frowned and flicked the large man in the forehead.

"Doesn't seem to be working, OK?"

Zeke frowned, then grabbed a large rock and tossed it across the forest. When the black robed woman raced in its direction, he grabbed Leo and surged through the woods in the opposite direction, through thickets and trees until the coast appeared safe.

"What manner of witchery was that?" Wakens asked.

Leo just stared at the nipple ring he held, then broke into a sprint again.

Darkness fell as the pair ran. Yards away, Zeke spied a small boat docked at the end of a rickety wooden dock.

"Over yon! Follow me!" the Amish officer bellowed and raced towards the small craft.

"Overyon? What the hell kind of word is that?" the little man asked then grabbed his ears as the shrieking woman on horseback erupted from the bushes.

She was draped in a swirling black robe that made her appear to be a wraith. Only her pale legs were visible, white in the moonlight. She flexed her spiked gauntlets and shrieked once more. Her horse reared back on two legs, then charged the little man.

"BROTHER STREELY!!" Wikkins yelled as the boat began to move away from the dock.

"MAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Leo screamed as he scampered foreword and at the very last moment dove off the dock and managed to get a hand hold on the side of the boat. The security officer pulled him from the black water and hauled him aboard as the boat pulled further away.

Leo quickly got to his feet and dropped his pants, exposing his bare bottom.

"RIGHT THERE BABY!!" he said with a wiggle and then began to slap his bare cheeks. "WHO'S YOUR DADDY NOW, SUNSHINE?!?! OH WAIT A MINUTE...HERE'S A LITTLE BAG FOR YA TOOTS!!" he said pulling his trousers a bit lower.

The creature on horseback screamed again, seemingly upset at being denied her prey. Then she galloped back to the road and was joined by two more wraiths and hurried deeper into the forest with a thunderous noise.

"Ah, shit." Leo said.

"Lost and Found" - Part II

By
Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

Amongst the bustle of the upper promenade in dome 3, it was easy to become lost amidst the sea of faces that flowed through this hub thrown out along the outer borders of the Alpha Quadrant.

Which is precisely what the Kelvan wanted.

It was late Beta shift and the shops were about to close. Passing under the Hanging Noose, where he made his usual acquaintances on the upper level of the dome, the late addition passengers enjoyed a late-night cap of entertainment through the propagated Argelian owned bar. No doubt many underhanded transactions were occurring, but this was not his destination. The subtle strings of Elaysian heartsong strummed down through the hushed whispers of civilians eager to avoid attraction.

Kylar had obtained clothing apparel at a kiosk on the lower levels; an Argosian robe that had the unusual knack of adapting to the user who wore it in such a way that gave nothing away as to what the shape of the form that lay underneath it.

The civilian section of the Promenade carried with the stench of a hundred different species. Not even the odor reducing chemicals Starfleet induced into the ventilation system could completely overcome it. This rankled the Kelvan's nostrils, but he bore it with endurance not expected of one who had been robbed of the majority of his fractional human strength.

Upon realizing he had awoken in the Starbase Infirmary, Kylar had quickly decided upon a plan of action. Obtain clothing of a nondescript religious worshipper of unimportant rank or an individual on sabbatical mecca to obtain passage on a civilian vessel for a modest fee and leave the system.

It took an effort to haggle the Ferengi merchant down from an obnoxious combination of credits and latinum (sizing up a haggard apparent human in medical pullovers), but the threat of exposing the illegal stash of Deltan Propagation Crystals forced the merchant to re-assess his priorities.

A luxury liner - an odd craft to be seen in this sector of space - docked into his arm clamp on the upper half of the dome. Kylar was able to view the sleek grey curves of the elongated carrier through the enormous viewing port that ringed the upper half of the dome in place of a ceiling. Standing in the shade of a Terran oak tree that was the mainstay of a park that had been created at the base of the level, he marveled at the architectural design of the collapsing levels that matched the arch of the tree in perfect gradually reducing rings as the might oak stood massive at over 60 feet tall in the shallow grove.

Very close to Kelvan inspired design. The idea flowed over him like the tidal wave of his dreamstate. He felt the tug of imaginary strings drawing him from behind. With one last glimpse of the sun glinting over the upper baffle of the liner, the Kelvan dipped his head down from within the dark ecru hood, slipped his hands into the folds of their opposite arms, and shuffled onward through the dimly lit corridor that led into the dredges of the lower docking rings of smaller craft.

As he entered the dank archway, he was assailed with the markings of a sector loosely patrolled by Starfleet personnel, and for good reason.

The sheer size of the starbase could not possibly allow for the numbers of security personnel required for patrol duties in every aspect of the civilian sectors. The resources requires were simply too demanding. Instead, Starfleet utilized the Federation Border Patrol to maintain a presence.

Seeing as the majority of the Border Patrol are vastly underpaid for their work, and mostly under contract hire, it wasn't surprising that those who were not on shipboard duty - which is exceedingly rarer than one might think - would find other ways to 'supplement' their income in more covert ways. Taking bribes to look the other way when a secret deal is under way, providing escort duty for various persons or creatures between spaceport destinations, etc. Items of a note not worthy of following up on, or won't interfere with their contractual duties to the Federation. Many had secondary notions when traveling under Federation duty.

Mercenaries.

Not of the sort that would kill for a slice of bread or a handful of credits, but often hirable for various other duties.

It was one of these pliable sorts that Curran searched for.

There were no turbolifts to this sector of the civilian sector of the starport. Maintenance costs were too high when it was found they were being vandalized daily, sometimes several time in one day. So Starfleet took it away.

The steps Kylar climbed down were few in number; their spiral turns in the damp dark prime for thieves who would cut your credit purse if given the chance. He kept a firm grip on the corroded rail that signified the end of Starfleet maintained sections. And carefully avoided slipping on the soaked metal grating, whatever the material was that coated them. He carefully avoided the thought of what it was.

No one passed him on his journey into the crowded depths of the station. In the lower decks he emerged into a degraded center of shambling modular buildings hastily thrown together to house the refuged, the homeless, the casual traveler wishing for anonymity. The ventilation carried the scent of staleness as it fought to cleanse the air. Being near the waste management systems of the station did little to help make the air tolerable to breathe.

Crowds huddled in the shadowed overtures of pavilions strung out along the myriad paths of the catacombs. He felt their eyes on him as he passed. Some pleaded with him to bless their lives for whatever reasons they saw fit to live them the way the chose or did not choose to.

The Federation, for all its determination and fervor in eradicating poverty and the impoverished, was not perfect. In these far reaches of Federation space, where alien cultures came and went in droves both within UFP territories and not, there still stood imperfections that could not be cleansed. Starbase 212 sat on a virtual crossroads of space where a great majority of its lower dome halves were for temporary quarters. The idea of actual citizens living behind its dull blue plating was not completely valid, seeing as the numerous threats only light-years distant were too numerous for anyone to set up a permanent residence here, even though many did.

Those that did were either the business or civilian advisors the Federation employed in its upper rings, or the temporary type that lived below that the vaunted Federation politicians refused to acknowledge their existence thereof.

Kylar came to a stop upon the doorstop of the Federation Border Patrol outpost that resided in these lower levels. He cast a furtive glance behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed by the sick and elderly looking for a sign of faith from him that all would be well. He did not need to notice of others in this task, even if it was a small risk he had to undertake in this disguise.

He slipped under the scaffolding, bent and fluttering in the breeze from the giant ventilation fan set at the end of the alley he entered.

"Basically, It's Working Your Ass Off"

By
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Lieutenant jg Claire Barnes
Lieutenant jg Cora Dobryin
Attache Nyssa Alvarez
And Ensign Miguel Sandoval

Location: Boondocks, Earth (also known as southern Saskatchewan, North American continent).

Moose Jaw... Earth.

This once horrific example of isolation gone bad was now (in the 24th century sense) a vital training centre of Starfleet Command. It housed one of the many fighter squads based on Earth, and also used its star and airport facilities for civilian traffic. Since even before the third cataclysmic war, Moose Jaw had been used by the old NATO nation states alliance as a training centre, its unbroken, clear skies and endless expanses of wheat and canola fields made it less likely for a recruit to crash into something more important... like the city that was only a few kilometres away (though this didn't stop the recruits from doing even THAT by accident, at least once a century).

Moose Jaw itself, by city standards, was a dull, peaceful habitation, that is if the bases didn't keep it's plentiful bars and recreation facilities open to the soldiers and pilots that constantly came through. Moose Jaw, and the nearby cities of Saskatoon and Regina, grew to proportions undue for farming cities, but perfect for military outposts and training centres in the middle of prairie outlands.

The flat, featureless landscape was perfect for training.

And James still wished for Marseilles.

Their runabout touched down at the landing strip near the ground forces training centre, some ten kilometers away, at a rather large facility taking over hundreds of acres of land that reverted to prairie longgrass and bluff; one of the few areas untouched by the voracious plow. In this area, there was also piece of valley, and some rolling hills, making it a more desirable piece of landscape in a flat plain.

But oh, the wind! Chilling, snapping, biting wind! Moose Jaw was known for it's calm winds, but not today! Late fall came down on the Hazards with a vengeance, a 'welcome to Earth' from a sadistic mother nature.

Speaking of the Hazards, James brought along his newly founded team specifically for the training. Attache Nyssa Alvarez, as part of her security training to become qualified for the Hazard Team, hadn't much choice of being here, as much as James himself. The Lieutenant's T'lan and Marsh were volunteer, though they both had vacation time coming to them. Their veiled rivalry as they exited the transport runabout took on more friendly terms as of late; the occasional jape and compliment, and a few intriguing looks. James was going to have to watch the Vulcan and Human duo.

Cora Dobryn was a bit of a surprise. The open invitation to the training facility was a mere friendly gesture, for Starfleet officers were always encouraged to take extra training to expand their horizons. What she did bring was more experience. James needed all he could get.

Then there was Ensign Miguel Sandoval. What was HE doing here, James had to ask. The biology major of Latin descent probably wanted an excuse to go back on Earth, and picked the wrong extracurricular activity to do it, ending up in the frozen hell that was a Saskatchewan fall than the jungles of his home. He didn't look to be all that physical, though all officers had to pass a manditory physical exam to qualify for their commissions, and James seriously doubted the success of this volunteer.

The last he checked, the Ensign was studying Breen algae, and loving every moment of it.

What was he doing here?

James did wish a few others would have come along. Lieutenant Remur had an injury from the last mission, and with the ship overhaul, her services would be requested. James let his last Hazard Member take time off.

Lucky her. Moose Jaw's fall wind bit through his uniform, and Earth's gravity churned his stomach.

"Oh good god!" Nyssa spoke wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. she looked out over the landscape and sighed "Yup. earth." she looked around and shook her head "Beautiful one day, hell hol e the next!" she commented before stepping off the ramp of the runabout.

Cora had accepted the invitation to join Corgan's Hazard Team for several reasons. Extra training wasn't something she ever decided to indulge in lightly. Recent events, howevere, were only a small part of her decision this time. Briefly she looked around as she stepped off the runabout's boarding ramp.

Claire looked around and grinned as she flipped up her sunglasses. Heading over to James, she grinned, "Now I know where you got the layout for the T-Rex program, Lt Cmdr."

The Hazard Team assembled into the main building of the base. They passed by the obstacle course of muddy, half frozen ponds, ropes, walls, dirt and sand. Unnoticed, they passed the motor pool, where a trio of greasy Starfleet engineers serviced a Hopper, or a land vehicle used by Starfleet for troop deployment. They passed the officer's mess and the base's bar, vital for morale in such a lonely place.

The main building was pristine, in typically anal Starfleet order. A raven haired Ensign talking frantically into a microphone headpiece wandered to the group, managing the base's communications in her soft, harried voice as she led the Hazard Team and Galaxy volunteers to a reception room. She politely excused herself, and rushed off, apologizing to the headpiece for the interruption.

The reception area itself was an austere Federation cookie cutter of a room. Gray to white wall panels surrounded them in an amphitheatre, with rows of desks and chairs lined up on steps. A huge LCARS screen greeted them with the Starfleet Logo.

So also, did a small, bald headed man greet them at the podium. He kept a friendly voice, underlying a sadistic glee for bringing in 'fresh meat'. He had weasily features; a Ferengi headscarf of a swath of hair, a pointed, crooked nose, shift sharp eyes and a shuffle in his feet that was impatient.

This was their new taskmaster, Lieutenant Commander Sean McMasters, formerly of the 108th Last Chancers.

James Corgan's old unit.

"Good day, and welcome, ladies and gentlemen." Sean bowed to his new trainees, surprising everyone for being honestly polite. "And good day to you, Lieutenant Commander Corgan of the Galaxy. I'm glad to see that you are doing well."

"Thank you, Sir. It is an honour to be here." James said, the last part with hesitation. Truth be told, James was forced to bring his team here by Sean McMasters. Corgan forwent the handshake. This annoyed his 'superior', but kept quiet about it.

"Ok then, let's go to the introduction. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would take your seats..."

Nyssa found a seat in the second row under the nearest heater vent, the cold still swam through her veins as she tried her best to keep the appearance of being warm. She suddenly looked up as the elder man standing at the front looked at her, her heart skipped a beat before she realised that all he was wanting was her name. "First Contact Officer and diplomatic attache Alvarez" she spoke calmly while her fingers kept warm between her legs.

The lights automatically dimmed... the screen flickered, and synthetic music grating the the ears began to play on the speakers as a slowly twisting Starfleet logo came to rest in the centre of the screen.

Then, blackness... and a slow fade to a woodland area. Starfleet soldiers in pre-Dominion War black with stripes bounded off a Hopper, their leader barking 'GOGOGO!' as they raced towards an unseen objective. Then it shifted to more training images, soldiers racing each other on the obstacle course, pushups, a racing hovertank sending cardboard cutouts of Romulan armoured vehicles to oblivion, and soldiers firing rifles at the target range.

Nyssa looked almost stunned at the images she was seeing "You have got to be kidding" she commented trying her hardest not to laugh as the images, poor ones at that were being displayed on the giant screen.

In the next scene the images changed to some happy faced troops standing proudly with their weapons, Nyssa started to talk as she started to laugh out aloud "I've seen ferengi business proposals better than this!

Claire thought that the only thing worse could have been if it had been done with shadow puppets, and thought about adding some but doubted the dude running it would approve.

"Starfleet Command." The voice in the speakers spoke down to the watchers in the ampthitheatre, as soldiers on the screen did jumping jacks, "Since its inception, Starfleet Command has kept ground forces in the event of hostilities against alien species and themselves. Starfleet has always maintained a policy of readiness, always training, always on guard for the next threat."

"Boring..." Marsh whispered behind James, directed at T'lan, whom sat beside him.

T'lan replied, "I too find this less than informative. I recall this video in our first year at the academy."

"Cut the chatter." James warned them both. Of course it was a rehash about Starfleet's special forces training. Even HE knew that! But that wasn't the point. The recruiting video was meant to give an inaccurate taste of what was to come.

The soldiers were back in their woodlands on the screen, a tandem team sniffing out prey as they hunted with paintball guns. ~"They still use those?"~ James thought as a stone faced cadet popped off shots from his painball gun with a steady 'wuff... wuff' of CO2. The shot was meant to be dramatic, but came off as cheesy.

"From our security forces on board starships..." James saw the shot of again, Pre-Dominion War uniformed officers feining comradery on board a set of a starship somewhere in Hollywood, "To our colonies planetside..." Then came the shot of another Pre-Dominion War actor helping a family hoist buckets of corn cobs out of the field, with a smile on his face that made everyone imagine a ramrod up the backside, and not the happiness of the free and easy life of a colonial sentry. "...everywhere we have Starfleet security officers, trained to excel at their duties."

The announcer then sterned up, "But the best of the best belong... to the SPECIAL FORCES!" He piped up, as the screen once again showed a Hopper spilling out troops. It was obviously the same shot from the introduction.

As a platoon of Delta Force soldiers waded through waist deep swamp, followed by Speznas skiing through Siberian tundra, the announcer continued, "These are the elites of Starfleet Security, a force unlike any other. Their training sets them apart from their peers. Their assignments, more exciting and varied than their counterparts. There are no equals. These are... THE BEST OF THE BEST!"

And as if on cue, in silver zooming letters "The Best of The Best" showed up on screen, blocking out an SAS training exercise in an urban landscape. Music, supposedly pulsing and pounding dramatically, more readily screeched and squaked.

James groaned. This was to be a long day....

Lt Dobryin remained quiet, even though she knew the recruiting video was pure propaganda. Its intent to feed new recruits a bunch of hype and get more people to sign on that infamous dotted line. Cora knew the real truth. Too much reality would have a totally opposite affect from what Starfleet wanted. Not only that but it undermined the true ideals of those who chose to wear the uniform.

Nyssa looked up and wiped the tears from her face "You cant tell me that anyone is that naive?" she laughed a little more and took a deep breath "Let's face it! Anyone stupid enough to believe that crap, no matter the stream your in needs to undergo psyc treatment." she grinned and remembered a certain spot clearly. "The niceness of the film is almost insulting and borderline propaganda!" she stopped for a small breath and continued "I don't know if it's my background or what but that video treats those who watch it as simpletons!"

"A dynamic training course with the best instructors the Federation can offer will teach you how to effectively combat any alien species..." The video prattled on, the announcer in his Pre-Dominion War uniform pacing the screen in front of a much sunnier training ground (probably Marseilles, where James wanted to be right now).

Once again Cora refused to say anything. Complaining wouldn't change anything. She'd been an Intelligence Operative far too long to believe any of what they'd just seen.

Leaning over to James, Claire whispered, "I hope they aren't charging us for this, or you got ripped badly, Sir."

"Now Lieutenant Barnes." James strained to keep an official, commanding tone while sounding as stereotypical as the video, "The Federation provides all furnishings, equipment, and training that her officer's need."

"That's right!" Cut in the information video, "In the event of oncoming phaser fire from an unknown location you should... duck... and cover!"

"F**k being ripped off." Corgan said, off handed to Claire, "I feel violated."

Cora glanced over at the two and smiled. Quietly responding, "I'd say 'violated' only scratches the surface."

The Hazard Team hunkered down for their biggest battle ever; the battle against the urge to walk out of the briefing room.

Sean McMasters, as the credits for the 'propaganda film' would point out as it's director and host, was less than impressed, and stewing more by the minute.

********** 15 minutes later **********

"Starfleet special forces are divided into separate regiments, much like the troop formations in the Starfleet Marines. But while their brethern are focused on ground combat and landings, Starfleet security's elite troops are trained for a myriad of tasks...."

~"Make it stop..."~ James groaned. He already had to suffer under every stereotype of the soldier in this one film. First, there was 'chow time' at the tent, where an oddly symmetrical group of 'strangers' bumped into each other, forming an automatic core group of a half dozen soldiers (old half male, the other female, and in equal parts human and alien). There was march time, the odd joke between comrades time, and then the discussion about why they were there ( For the Federation, of course! Not for something as selfish as an education or a career path! ). Then one of the young cadets just HAD to ask about the organization of the special forces.

Easy enough question. In under a minute, James could break down the regiments, name most of them (Andorian Rangers, Spetznas, SAS, Delta's, Peacekeepers, Vulcan Security Services, TacOps, Hazard Teams, etc), and give out their basic tasks.

But a younger Lieutenant McMasters on the screen had to spend TEN minutes on the subject, and give a history.

Not only that, he had to walk in at the middle of chow time, interrupt their march in the middle of a rousing marching song (something to do about a paratrooper with a rifle up his backside and a 'bullet' through his eye), and even hand them bars of soap in the shower.

James mouthed the words 'raging egomaniac' when McMasters wasn't looking.

Yet McMasters caught it, and stewed further.

Cora listened wondering when it was going to end. Able to name the units, their tasks and her role as an Intelligence Officer to aid such units.

******** 30 minutes later ********

McMasters, now theorized as bearing a wig during the video (for James never remembered the poor bastard ever having a full head of hair), kept his monotone drone up for a full half hour, when most mortals would be tempted to try phaser therapy.

"Now, the wasp is also woodland hazard that must be avoided. Avoid their nests, and never agitate their hive. Now about building a fire..."

~"What is this, the F**KING BOY SCOUTS??!?!?!"~ Corgan wanted to scream, but kept his tongue.

"Now why are they describing woodland hazards? Shouldn't that be part of the survival video?" Marsh critiqued.

"I have yet to see a logical path to this." T'lan added.

"Shhhh... it's about to get interesting..." Corgan hushed.

Two of the recruits, one of the wide eyed, young human males, and a Bolian girl that stuttered on her lines, trudged through the woods in an Elmer Fudd fashion, trying to flush out rabbits for their dinner. A buzz was heard in the background.

"Look... out!" The Bolian recruit ambled, as the young human male slapped himself on the cheek.

"Ow." He said with less enthusiasm. Then he slapped again as the music picked up. And up... and up again as his slaps increased.

"Stop drop and roll. Stop drop and roll." The Bolian recruit typecasted, the young human male twitching as he pretended to get stung by hundreds of pissed off insects.

As he rolled, his back arched up, and he let out a real whoop of pain. The prop cactus was stuck to the recruit's buttocks. "OW! What the hell was...."

"And that's how you prevent the wasps from getting you if no water source is nearby..."

Corgan whispered, "See? Told ya."

Dobryin knew this was going to be a very long day. 'Like we couldn't figure that one out without the video' she focused on that thought briefly.

"And remember recruits... don't touch poison oak!"

"OH GOD! IT ITCHES!"

"Ummm... stop drop and roll?"

"Heh heh..." Snickered the security chief.

************ 45 minutes later ************

"You know... I learned alot today..."

So said the quintessential young human male recruit, sporting dermalplasts from a dozen fake wasp stings, a bandage from a previous scene involving rifle drills and concussions, and a grin that lacked one less incisor.

"I learned that through teamwork and discipline... I too..."

James snarled through the line of the young recruit, "...can become a integral part of the Starfleet machine, a machine that needs every person it can get, and it always needs... the best of the best..."

'The End' showed up on the screen. ~"The End... Federation Department of Instructional Propaganda..."~

Sean McMasters summoned the lights, and as they slowly appeared, the Hazard Team and Galaxy volunteers wiped sleep from their eyes and stifled yawns. McMasters had a whole hour to simmer to a full boil over the video and the public reaction, but kept himself under wraps.

Nyssa was tapped by someone behind, her eyes opening wide as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. She smiled realizing she had slept through the entire thing.

"Alright folks, lets cut to the chase." He said, in a condesending manner, "I am Lieutenant Commander Sean McMasters, and I will be your chief instructor. What we have on the... video... is a taste of what can come. As a newly implimented Hazard Team, you people are now considered part of the Starfleet special forces structure, and will therefore be required to take additional training to meet up to the standards of our special forces. During this entire period, you will be drilled, tested, and strained to your limits. We will stretch every limit you have to find out your weak points. We will find your gaps and fill them in. We will make you into the Hazard Team you are supposed to be..."

Cora wasn't about to comment. While she wasn't specifically Hazard Team she certainly worked with them enough. Besides Intelligence training had given her some real insight into what they were likely to face here. Determined to use her skills and show the instructors that she knew exactly how to operate in the field and to expand her skills to better be able to assist the Hazard Team if needed. Either way it wasn't about ego for her, it all came down to doing her job to the best of her ability.

"Ummm... yes, that is true." McMastered coughed, "You are not part of the Hazard Team structure, and therefore not part of the Starfleet special forces structure. But we did leave out an open invitation, and Starfleet always encourages its officers to expand their horizons. This course will give you these options, and you will... I repeat... will not regret giving this a try."

McMasters paused, then said, "Alright... I cannot give you specifics on your training as of yet. We have some surprises... but we can tell you this. One week will be towards conditioning, the next on specialized skills and drills, and not necessarily in that order. We will try out your physical endurance and performance, your skills in weapons and explosives, infiltration, squad based combat and the like. At the end, we'll evaluate each person's performance, and give recommendations... and we will be watching everyone closely."

If the comment was meant to scare them, it certainly didn't have that effect on Cora. She listened to the rest of the speech quietly.

"Now... you people have just arrived, and early. I like that. So, i'm going to give you a respite. As of..." McMasters made a large show of watching his wrist chrono... "Right... now... you all are on 24 hour leave. We will need time to set up the area for your training sessions, so make use of the time to go see what Earth has to offer. We'll also give you transporter credits to travel around. Enjoy!"

That was something Cora didn't expect but it also meant they had to be ready for anything when they returned.

"Huh?" Corgan raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic of McMasters to show any compassion, much less any rewards. A whole 24 hours from him was like asking for a brick of gold pressed latinum.

But he would take it. It had been awhile since he saw his sister, and perhaps a visit with an old friend would also do.

"Ok... you heard him. Let's unpack, then go have some fun, 'cause afterwards it's all business." Corgan orderered.

Cora was looking forward to spending a little time on earth. Either way she also had a pretty good suspicion of what lay ahead.

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

McMasters was glad to be away from what was the most unruly group yet.

It was HIS video! Everyone tore away at it, even the Vulcan. Corgan, once known as a cold and aloof sniper whom didn't talk much and smiled less, even had a few jabs at his masterpiece, his craft of patriotic inspiration and safety.

No longer. James was now McMaster's b*tch.

In his office, dimly lit by the mid evening sun, he lounged on his desk while a mountain of a man loomed over him. The giant of a man had a darkened face, shadowed by a drill sergeant's hat.

"Smart alecs, all of them." The sergeant grimaced.

"That they are..." McMasters agreed, silky as a preening cat, "That they are... I gave them the day off."

The drill sergeant shook his head unapprovingly, "Now why did you do that?"

"Oh, come now, where's your humanity?" McMasters joked, "These people have gone through a near war, a colony insurrection and a god knows what else. And I do know what their leader went through..."

"He seems like a traitor to me. I heard what he did with that spy..."

"Tut tut... you read the reports. He did pretty well. More than what I expect. He deserves a break. Really."

"Well, speaking of which." The sergeant paced around the room impatiently, "Why?"

McMasters explained, a mischevous smile on his face, "Well... I too wouldn't mind this Lieutenant Commander being knocked down a peg or two. Trust me, he'll need this day off. What I have planned for his crew will either make them the best... or they'll all be washed out."

"Go on..." The sergeant urged.

"We're moving up Hell Week. As soon as they get back. Give them some sleep... then we put them through their paces."

The sergeant stopped pacing around. He said, with more worry, "Even I'm not that cold blooded. This is supposed to be a skills upgrade, after all."

"If they pass this, they'll have all the skills they need. But that's not... what i'm counting on...."

"Movement in Darkness"

Lt. Ella Grey

****

-Caves, Planet Unknown

****

The cave was cool and the tunnels continuous.

At first Ella had been unsure of her steps, afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows that the light from her torch could not touch. But after a few days she had become used to the tunnels and her steps had become more confident and careless. The tunnels became another way to expel the boundless energy that the cactus juice had given her. When she wasn't babysitting Curtis or trying to get the shuttle to run again or hunting in the night with Cutter, she could be found exploring in the tunnels for food, metal, anything and everything really that could be useful.

She hardly slept anymore and even then she always seemed to be moving.

Ella popped another mushroom into her mouth. Luckily the tunnels provided an endless amount of them and, so far, the things hadn't killed any of them or changed them in any way, which was good because she didn't think her body could take any more changes. She was always hungry now because her body was burning energy at rates that couldn't be good and Ella was popping mushrooms like pills to keep up.

She shook her head as she examined a small cave that had branched off from the tunnels. Cactus juice, mushrooms, and 'strange creature' meat. Sickbay was going to have fun with her when she got back onboard Galaxy.

Ella frowned and then ate another mushroom. Curtis Geluf had only enough energy these days to lay about and listen to whatever it was that he heard which seemed to hear everything these days. She must have been twenty mintues away from him the other day when she scraped her hand (and yelped) and he had told her that her yelp had been like a scream to him.

He also found energy to talk, unfortunately. He talked endlessly and mostly to Ella and nine times out of ten it was on the same subject, whether he was coherent or not. They were never going to be rescued, the shuttle would never be fixed, they were going to live out the rest of their lives here, they should think about the future, blah blah blah blah....

Ella really hadn't meant to shove that mushroom practically down his throat last night but she was fed up. While the cave and the tunnels were, oddly enough, beginning to feel like home to her, she had no ambitions to become a permanent member of Planet Unknown. She had a career, family, even friends. And, of course, Victor...

Ella sighed and then ate another mushroom. She wondered how Victor was doing. Did he wonder where she was? Did he even care?

Going back to the main tunnel (it was probably time to return and see how Chatty-Kathy Curtis was doing) Ella entertained herself with thoughts of her and Victor doing some naughty things under bearskin covers on the floor of a cave, with a platter of real food and chocolate nearby. And a huge pitcher of cold water. Which then became her and Victor in an ice cold stream, with a platter of real food and chocolate nearby. Either fantasy, she was keeping the food and chocolate.

Ella chuckled, which Curtis would tell her later had echoed in his ears for ten minutes.

"Practical Magic" Pt. III

Senator Ramir Omar,
Ambassador
USS Galaxy

Lt. Brianna O'Shea,
SCE
USS Galaxy

After a long night of exploration of the physical kind, Brianna eyes opened as she woke up laying next to his nude from under the soft cotton sheets. Turning her head up slightly she smiled up seeing him with his eyes closed. Moving her hand up off his chest she ran her finger along the sculpted line of his wear and then down over the bridge of his nose.

Omar woke with a start, and saw Anna lying next to him. He smiled with relief when he realized who it was, but also he smiled with contentment.

This woman was very interesting – apart from definitely being the politest human he had met before, she had not had any problems with his Romulan origins or anything like that. Yesterday had been very interesting, and the senator wondered what today would be like.

Suddenly a rude beep sounded, and the voice of the hotel clerk came through a concealed speaker. “I apologize sir, but you have a call from the Starbase.”

Omar looked apologetically at Anna, before speaking.

“Put it through.”

The voice of his head bodyguard came through. “My lord, I apologize, but there is a communication for you, from Romulus.”

“From your father,” he added.

What! Omar screamed in his mind, his contentment vanishing in an instant. What kind of time was this? Didn’t his father think he had a social life onboard the Galaxy? Talk about bad timing.

He looked at Anna, to see what her reaction was.

Anna smiled, then mouthed. 'He knows what you did.' Then grinned and motioned she'd go in the bathroom while he took the communication.

Omar grimaced, and waited for her to leave the room. He then activated the visual communicator by the side of his bed.

The image of his father appeared – wearing his military uniform and beaming with either arrogance or pleasure, or perhaps both.

“Jolan’ Tru son,” he said, smiling.

“Greetings, father,” the less-than-pleased son, replied. “Are you sure it’s secure talking like this? What’s this about?”

“The royal family was very pleased at our removal of the traitor Savar,” The colonel remarked, still wearing that smug grin.

“The senate wasn’t particularly happy though, especially Savar’s father,” he added with amusement.

“Our plan?” An incredulous senator said. “I was practically used by your plan, father. It was you who sent that spy to pose as my diplomatic aide. Anyway, do you have a point to this conversation?” He finished wearily.

“Yes, of course. I understand your ship is in dry-dock. Therefore, you are required back on Romulus, for the time being. I have informed the Empress you will arrive within the day.”

“What!” Omar exploded. “Father, how dare you? I have other things to do than waste a day returning to Romulus just to please you and the aristocracy.”

“It’s already been arranged-” The screen went blank as the senator ended the transmission. He turned suddenly, realizing that the bathroom door wasn’t closed – Anna would have heard everything.

"So much for our short vacation together." Anna said then smiled as she walked back over to the bed. "Just tell me you didn't arrange that as a means to dump me, cause if you did I'd have to kill you." She said then smiled.

Omar hesitated for a few seconds and then spoke. "If you're not... doing anything else... you could come with me to Romulus?"

Brianna thought for a moment. "Are you sure? I mean I don't want you to get into trouble for being with a female human Starfleet officer." She said. "That's like the triple strike isn't it?" She asked as she smiled. "If you are sure, then I'd like to see Romulas."

Omar rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Great. However, we’ll have to start packing pretty much now, I’m afraid.”

“My father left no choice,” he finished sourly.

"Which would be better, Starfleet uniform or civilian clothing? If it's uniform we might need to stop by the station before leaving, so I can pack them. If it's civilian clothing, I can purchase some here or when we get to Romulas." Anna said walking out of the bathroom now and sitting down on the side of the bed.

Omar shook his head vigorously. “No, no, definitely not Starfleet uniform on Romulus. A Romulan Warbird has been sent – with the permission of the Federation Council – to this starbase, to pick us up. It should be there already now.”

“Typical. My father sent for us even before he told us,” Omar remarked about his father again, before turning to see Anna’s reaction.

Anna looked at him for a moment. "A Warbird?" She asked him and saw his nod. "That's some clout your father has." She said then stood up off the bed. She then moved over and began to order some civilian clothing and then placed her commbadge on it, intent to put it in her pocket when reaching the Romulan warbird. "He came for you... I'm just going to be a surprise for him." She said as she picked up the clothing she ordered from the replicator.

“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it,” the senator smiled as they turned to leave.

Captain Ulda of the Starbase 212 Romulan Embassy was waiting for them when they returned. He was accompanied by several centurions – all who instantly stood to military attention upon the senator’s arrival.

“The ship awaits, my lord,” the captain said.

“Thank you captain,” Omar politely replied, and looked at Anna. “I will not be alone on my visit to Romulus.”

“My lord?” The captain looked at the senator with confusion, at Anna with distaste.

“Did you not hear me?” Omar said – again with politeness, but this time, with authority in his voice.

“Yes, of course.” The captain blustered. He looked at Anna again, and this time, he looked not with distaste, but with the look one gives to the Romulan aristocracy.

“These centurions will escort you to your ship, my lord and my lady.” He said before turning back towards the embassy. The centurions began to walk the other way – towards the waiting Warbird – politely indicating for the two arrivals to follow them.

Brianna looked at Omar as they walked. "My lady, huh?" She asked him then grinned. "Could get used to that kind of treatment." She said they walked. Reaching up she took her commbadge off and placed it into her jeans pocket. Taking Omar's hand she followed beside him onboard the Warbird. Soon were on their way toward Romulas.

"So, what would it take for me to get a tour of a Warbird?" Anna asked with a smile.

Omar hesitated. “I’m not sure exactly, you are still a Starfleet officer…” He smiled apologetically. “Romulan paranoia, I’m afraid.”

He brightened. “I can, though, show you the…”

“Jolan’ Tru my son!”

Omar turned with a sigh – recognizing the voice – to see his father approaching him, arms outstretched. They embraced and parted quickly, with the colonel beaming.

“Ready to come home, my son?” he asked. “I decided to surprise you, by coming along myself.”

Suddenly his grin vanished as he saw who was behind the senator.

“Oh, you brought company did you?” He rather brashly remarked, all joy gone from his face.

He whispered in his son’s ear – just loud enough for Anna to hear. “Didn’t know you went for humans, my son.”

The colonel then stepped back and looked at Anna. “Bit casual for visiting the royal family of Romulus, aren’t you? Doesn’t Starfleet value tradition? I’ll get one of the slave girls onboard to dress you…”

The colonel stopped at the senator’s icy expression – he then smiled.

“Oh, very sorry, I forgot you humans don’t have slaves,” he remarked to her. “However, this is how we Romulans do things, and you can’t go to Romulus that casually.”

Senator Omar despaired on the inside. In the space of several minutes, his father had likely seriously annoyed Anna – first with his brashness towards her, and then by his comments on slavery – something that, although still very common in Romulan society, was considered repulsive by humans. If only his father hadn’t been so rude about it…

All the senator could do was to turn, and look at her with a mixture of apology and despair.

Anna decided not to start a war right here with pointing out to the elder Romulan just how backwards thinking he was, but instead she smiled. "No, Humans don't have salves. We overcame that... superficial need to be taken care of like children." Brianna said, okay, so she might start a war but she was Irish, suddenly she realized how would she explain this to Starfleet Command. "I look forward to sampling the native dress of your people, Colonel." She added then glanced at Omar and give him, 'shall I tell him I'm pregnant with your baby?' look just to twist a dagger into the elder Romulans chest.

The colonel laughed. “Superficial? Perhaps. Capitalist? Certainly.”

His voice hardened and the laugh vanished. “But we are Romulans, and do not question our ways. However, if you two prefer to dress and take care of yourselves during the voyage – shall I tell the slaves to return to their quarters?”

"I question everything, everyone." Anna replied. She then looked at Omar, it would be his call on the slaves he would know if she needed to change or not before getting to Romulas.

Seeing her facial expressions, the senator moved to step in. “Now, father…”

But the colonel held up a warning hand, and his son stopped speaking.

“Doesn’t your friend have a voice, son?” he asked, while looking at Anna. “I’ll leave it up to her – does she want to insult our cultural traditions with a refusal such as this?” There was an underlying tone of hostility in his voice.

This was not a good idea coming, she did find her Starfleet strength. "Colonel," She said then smiled. "I would be honored to sample the generosity of your people, I would think your son and I are much more then just friends." She said taking Omar's arm. "Show me to the changing quarters, my love." Brianna said, sure it was just a jab to the elder Romulan, but it was worth it.

Colonel Omar’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing for several seconds.

Finally he raised his hand and shouted for his personal slave, who arrived promptly and put on his military overcoat. Then, without a word, he turned and walked down the corridor.

“You should be careful,” Omar whispered to Anna as they followed. “First impressions are usually everything with my father – he might not be likeable but he’s well-connected. Sure you know what you are doing?”

"I have no idea what I'm doing, starting to wonder why I'm even here. I can handle being not liked, but when he tells me I should be more willing to accept his culture and then he insults mine is him being a hypocrite." Anna said. "I'll not say another thing to him... promise." BRianna said.

"Lost and Found" - Part III

By
Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer,
USS Galaxy

The interior of the Border Patrol offices were as symmetrically cramped as the section of dilapidated housing units it was assigned to. The office consisted of no seating arrangements; only a dusty console that stretched the distance between the two interior modular walls, with a small opening at the end to slip through by the officer of the day. The ramp was lifted on its hinges, rusted as they were, and flipped to a 45 degree angle to the left as it lay perpendicular to the console shelf.

Kylar approached the teller desk, noticing that the hinged shelf was in fact one of worn out hinges rather than a lazy soldier who'd left it up as he started his shift. It appeared about ready to fall off if touched with even the slightest amount of pressure.

Beyond the pulpit with its single niche, as there were walls that protected the individual beyond - likely with a plethora of defensive weapons and paperwork - a Xindi-Arboreal and a Gorn were playing a game of Tri-D Chess. The Border Patrol certainly invited a variety of consignees, obviously. Curran, keeping his impatience in check, waited at the slot for one of the two to notice him.

"I have you now, Grelkor." The Xindi extended a lightly follicled finger to the second level of his platform to pluck his knight, placing it on the third level. "I believe that is checkmate, my friend." The Xindi smiled, leaning back to cross his arms into the dark cloth of a standard issue Border uniform. Kylar, always one for a meticulous appearance, ruffled his nose under the dark recesses of his hood in discourse at the layer of dust that had taken refuge on the textured jacket of the Xindi and Gorn 'officers'. "If you'll kindly hurry, I must take my winnings and head out." The Xindi bore a look of complete confidence in his defeat of the Gorn opponent.

"Be with you momentarily." The Xindi had cocked his head slightly in Curran's direction as he emphasized his words in boredom, acknowledging the Kelvan's existence without looking at him. The alien tilted his seat back, waiting for the Gorn to admit defeat.

The Gorn began to rumble. A deep basso thrum that threw its tenor about so that it seemed everywhere but the source slowly grew. It's eyes flashed, followed by a slithering hiss. The Xindi seemed not to care. Kylar of course noticed a flaw in the Arboreal's game logic in that he left his Queen's flank exposed. All the Gorn had to do was move his bishop into a lockdown Kessel Defense, and the Xindi would never know what happened to him.

Which is precisely what the Gorn did. His grumbling behavior was a ploy, obviously, as he took the bishop in the tip of two enormous claws and slid it into place on the upper level, cutting off the Xindi's queen completely.

"You are correct, Odin. It is indeed checkmate." The universal translator lagged on interpreting the Gorn's growls and hisses. Cheaply made equipment, low maintenance standards. It barely worked. It was well that Kylar had some experiences with Gorn in the past, and with some thought was able to extrapolate the giant reptile's words that had been missing from the translation.

Odin's chair dropped with thud, a thin cloud of dust rising around his leather boots. The offices of the Border Patrol were atrocious. Kylar would have to look into this upon his return to Federation service. It was intolerable. He need not reveal his identity here, though, for surely he would not be able to attain his travel requirements or move in anonymity. He did not want to be followed or tainted by the environment he lived and worked in each day of his miserable life.

Odin stuck his fur-covered face into the board, squinting at the movement made by the unbecoming Gorn, who in the meantime shoved his undersized stool back from the cluttered desk and depressed several keys in an inventory padd, spinning it around to face the Xindi.

"Have the materials transferred to my ship, Odin. The contract is mine." This piqued the Kelvan's curiousity. He needed passage off the starbase, and obviously a deal of great value had been at stake during this interchange.

"Hmm..." The Arboreal's dark brown eyes darted back and forth over the board, searching for any way out of the trap.

"I don't have time to play around, Xindi! You know as well as I that our customer doesn't like to wait. Sign the transfer and think about the game later." He shoved the padd towards the Odin with great impatience. That Xindi sure likes to play a dangerous game with one that could snap his neck in a second.

"Fine! You're stealing food from my children's mouths, Grelkor! I'll have you know that." He shoved his thumb into the transcriber until the authentication lamp went green. "Take it and go. I'll just sit here and beg for scraps. Maybe I'll go join the homeless on the streets and shake a tin cup at passers-by, hmm?"

"Oh, shut your trap, Odin. You don't have any kids. No one would want your whiny, hairy gluteus in their home. You're too ugly with all that fur." The great reptile slowly lifted a well-muscled leg over the stool he'd been residing on, and trudged slowly back to the lockers in the rear of the cubicle that housed the one two-sided desk the two had been playing their game on.

"Sometimes I think the Reptilians are easier to deal with than the Gorn." The Xindi slid out from his ancient-looking stool, and shook his head as he finally took notice of the Kelvan awaiting his attendance. Scratching an itch under his left side, Odin pulled down the sleeves of his jacket, revealing his rank of Master Mate. Almost the entire complement of the Border Patrol were enlisteds, or formerly of the Starfleet Naval forces, and retained their rank while on contractual tours with the organization.

"We don't do charitable work for any religions. Nothing to give, either." He waved his hand around at the barren offices. "If you're here to register a complaint, you'll have to come back tomorrow if you want anything done about it. My partner here is leaving for the Alpha Onias system and leaving me short-handed this evening. I can take a statement though."

"I am in need of interstellar transport."

"Does this look like a travel office to you? Head up to the Starfleet sector. I'm sure you can hitch a ride with any of their sorts."

"Starfleet does not suit my purposes. I am a... peaceful servant. It would be detrimental to my journey to travel in the companionship of such blatant blasphemy. I wish anonymity and isolation. I will bother no one."

"You aren't getting the point, mister. We're a security office, not a travel agency. Head over to the cantina to find some desperate sap to help you out."

"No, it is you that does not understand, Odin." The Kelvan made careful use of the Xindi's name in order to emphasize he was speaking directly to him only, "I require passage on a ship that has a vested interest in its cargo. I do not wish to be the priority task of the journey. I only wish to... tag along, shall we say?"

Odin crinkled his left brow, and scratched the stubble of his chin. The scent of wet dog wafted to Curran's nostrils. He doubted this mammal had bathed in some time. Grelkor tumbled up behind Odin.

"I'll take him. He might come in handy." Curran glanced to the Gorn under the folds of his hood, only the stubble of his chin could be seen. "Besides, Odin, if this means more money for me, and less for you, it's in my best interests." Kylar wasn't sure what the relationship was between these two, whether as friend or foe, but it was something he could certainly exploit if he required it. But it appeared he would be obtaining his far more quickly than he imagined.

"You are travelling to the Alpha Onias system, yes?"

"I am. You'll make a perfect excuse if I come across the Starfleet ships still patrolling the area. Wish they'd leave. Damn heavy cruisers are keeping perfectly good latinum out of my pocket, cutting off trade routes."

"But you are Border Patrol. Do you not have free reign of the system as it bears close relationship to the Romulan border? I hear there have been some skirmishes in the territory."

"You'd think so." The Xindi spoke up, cutting off the Gorn before he could respond. Grelkor did what passed for a shrug, his sinews rippling along what passed for a neckline, and trudged to the end of the console in order to slip through the only exit from the console. "They're running a blockade for some reason. Real pain to get any kind of work done."

These two were surprisingly open with their jobs on the side, Curran thought. He would need to watch his words so as his identity was not exposed.

"I am in need of passage to Kelva."

"Kelva? That's too far out of the way. It'll take an extra week to get there. I've no time for that. I'll drop you off at the nearest starbase outside of the system, and you can hitch a ride from there."

"How much time do you have?"

"Getting around those patrols without detection takes several days at least. I have a deadline to meet, and my cargo is perishable. I can't waste any time going to Kelva either before or after. Sorry, monk. Find another way. I doubt you could pay enough to overcome any shortcomings I may face."

Curran had difficulty picturing a Gorn being worried about anyone. Then again, if he lost his source of income, that could be a bit of a problem living, and Odin would have an advantage. Not that the Kelvan cared.

"I don't have much for currency, but I can save you several days off your route. I have certain... access to Starfleet transport codes."

"You, a monk?" The reptilian had trudged up behind Curran and laughed an epithet of hisses and shushes, amended with the slight rise and fall of bellows in his chest.

"If you don't believe me, that is your choice, but if it is true, you can have me to Kelva and be back in less time than it would have taken you in the first place without my additional request. I take it that would increase your reputation and percentage? If I am wrong, than I shall be a simple passenger on your travels, and lose out on my pilgrimage. You do not lose anything for you will still be back in time."

"And what happens if you are using a false signal that attracts unwanted Starfleet attention? I doubt you could pick up the tab for my 'lost reputation', let alone earnings. Too great a risk!"

"I will pay your bill three times that which you are owed. It should be enough to pay off any bribes to buy back your reputation." With that, Curran slipped from his robe cuffs one bare hand. "Pass me your padd." He handed out his smooth, shrivelled hand to the Gorn.

"Why?"

"Do you want proof or not?"

The Gorn handed him the padd.

"Kylar quickly reduced the manifest window of the Gorn - not like it was a true manifest anyhow - and brought up command entries. Quickly keying in a minor command code, he was able to bring up current patrol routes for the next hour in the Alpha Onias system. He handed it back to the Gorn, whose head snapped up to the Kelvan.

"Well, it would appear you are telling the truth. Odin, say bye to your contract! Now, Mister.... when did you say you had to be there?"

"Reprieve Before Hell Week-Part 1"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin,
CIO,
USS Galaxy

Lt(jg) Kaz Makan,
SCE,
Utopia Planitia (NPC)

Seattle, Earth

Brilliant reflections bounced off the water's surface. Two sea kayaks with oars sat just beyond shy of the surf line. It happened to be a beautiful day for that kind of activity. The arrangement was perfect for a reunion of sorts.

Lt Kaz Makan watched his good friend and former class mate walk down the beach. Cora looked just as good as the last time he saw her, perhaps better. Her message took him by surprise but he couldn't turn down an opportunity to see Cora Dobryin again.

"Kaz I have to say your invitation caught me off guard. Heck when I said I was on Earth I didn't expect you'd be around or if you were to have the same day off," Cora smiled then continued with her greeting. "How has life been treating you?

"Good," he replied, "Working at Utopia offers the best of both worlds. I can live anywhere I feel like and still report to work in orbit at one of the largest shipyards in existence. That's something I never thought would happen when I transferred to Starfleet's Corps of Engineers."

Cora nodded, "Glad to hear it. Now let's get into the water." Already she had put down her small duffle bag and was busy removing her T-shirt. Pausing only so she could put on sunscreen, Cora then made her way to one of the kayaks. "This is an excellent idea. It's been far too long since I spent any time on a real body of water. Holographic simulations just aren't the same."

That made Kaz smile as he prepared himself, then his kayak for their voyage. "So what's new in your life? Last time I got a message from you, Starfleet had transferred you to the Galaxy. Rumor has it she took a major beating during you last mission and is dry-docked for a while."

Somberly Cora replied, "Yeah, that mission was a rough one."

"I'm sorry Cora. My intent wasn't to drag your day down. So do you have more time free than just today?" Kaz purposely changed the subject.

She shook her head, "Not at the moment and I suspect free time will be very rare for a while. I'm actually here on Earth with Galaxy's Hazard Team. We've been given 24 hours leave before our actual Special Forces training begins."

Kaz just shook his head, "Cora only you would decide to put yourself through that rigor again. Didn't you tell me Intel training introduced you to some kind of 'hell week' equivalent?" He started to laugh, "Then again I'm glad there are people like you to watch my back." Lt Makan's tone had turned more serious. "While I like to joke I was serious about what you do. I sleep safer at night knowing that you and others do what you do to keep the Federation ready for anything. Everyday I wake up this beauty and it seems so peaceful." With one end of his oar, Kaz gestured to the majestic scenery around them. "Once I get to work, however I quickly realize just how unsafe the universe truly can be."

They paddled in silence for a time. Eventually Cora spoke, "It can be an evil place. More than once I've been asked how I go to sleep at night and get up knowing what I know. My answer is always the same. so others don't have to." She smiled, "Thanks for your comments."

He just nodded in reply with an expression of understanding, "Back when we first entered the Academy we had nothing to worry about but grades and finding time to enjoy all the extracurricular activities out there. Now we deal with the reality behind serving the Federation."

Cora had to smile at that bit of insight, "And some days are better than others." The pair enjoyed the scenery and more conversation. "So anyone new in your life?" she eventually inquired of her good friend.

Kaz shook his head, "No I'm career oriented like you are, Cora. Though I have to admit it would be nice one day to have a family."

Quietly she replied, "I understand all to well Kaz. To be able to return home to some one special or a family is appealing. A sign that there is still good out there somewhere. But I also want it to be the right someone."

Nearly two hours later they returned to the same location they'd launched the kayaks from. "Are you sure you can't stay a little while longer?"

"Sorry, I've got to get going or I'm going to be late for dinner with Lance," Cora replied as they stood on the beach drying off. "Take care Kaz and don't be a stranger via subspace. Keep in contact."

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder

Chief Engineer

"Going out with a silent bang..." Part 1

Ethan awoke in his quarters. It took a few seconds to realise that he couldn't see much because the lights were down. There was little light coming in from the window. He rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair back. His right hand slid down passed his cheek to his jaw. He must have been there for a while, what with the sudden beard and all.

He took several deep breaths, trying to understand what had happened, why he was there. He shook the thoughts out of his head and sat up. Half way, the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his lower back was more than a surprise. He grabbed at it with his left hand.

Maybe yesterday, maybe days ago, this had all happened. He couldn't really tell. He felt tired as usual. He sat there for a moment, thinking about the past.

Then it all started coming back to him as he just sat there, hand on his back.

*** Previous ***

Suder picked up a piece of debris with both hands and axamined it for a short moment. He then threw it across the room and watched as it broke against the wall with a satisfying thud. He sighed at the view. It seemed like what was left of the ship was pretty much the same. Burnt walls, smashed consoles, holes in ceilings, a bulkhead here and there, sparks from exposed circuitry. How long had the ship been ok? Running as smooth as it could get? And then in a few seconds, it can look the complete opposite. Getting an ass kicking was one thing, having to see something that was so hard worked for, be destroyed so quickly was so frustrating.

He picked up another piece of debris and tried to figure out what it was. In the middle of the room was a half standing desk. Leaning on it, he frowned and dropped the scorched item. He crossed his arms and kicked out at the nearest piece of debris on the floor. With each passing second, he was becoming more angry with the situation. He and his team were now going to be working stupid hours trying to get the ship back together in one piece. But it would never be perfect. It would never be what it once was.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He wished some people he once knew were there. They had been in this situation, they knew what they were doing, how to handle it. He guessed on some level he did too, but it was something that made him like his job less. He opened his eyes again looked up at the partial lighting as it flickered out.

Standing there in the darkness, Ethan continued to look up, half expecting the light to come back on, but no such luck. He then proceeded to rub his red and tired eyes. Pushing himself off the desk, he was about to make a start for the door, but heard something fall from the desk and clang with the floor.

"Ethan-" a voice called out.

Suder quickly turned, recognising the voice, yet not willing to believe anyone was with him.

As he turned and looked in the general area that he heard the voice, large sparks shot out from several of the exposed circuits that hung from the damaged ceiling. The light that the sparks generated did in fact show who Ethan thought it was. But it the light show only lasted for a fraction of a second. He saw another spark from the other side of the room and heard various noises, as if the bulkheads were giving way.

In fact, that was it exactly. Some of it fell down. Instinctively, judging by the sound, Ethan rolled to his right until he hit the wall. He cringed as some of the ceiling collapsed in the spot he had been in a second ago. He put his right hand to the wall and found the controls for the door. Pressing the activation button, he frowned and silently cursed as the door sonly partially opened.

Standing up, he was about to try and slide out of the door when he heard another noise from behind him. He had one arm and half a leg out of the door when he turned his head to look back. Again, he saw several sparks and the familiar face. Then he saw something falling down, only this time towards him. In the moment that he had seen it, it looked like a support beam still attached to something. It swung down towards him at an alarming rate. He tried hard to pull himself through the door, but it was just too narrow! The large support beam came crashing down into the wall, smashing Ethan's back. The impact left wuite a mark on the wall, door and Ethan. He stood there, pinned between the door and the beam.

He felt like his teeth were going to break as he bit down as hard as possible. His face, one of obvious pain went without notice. There wasn't anyone else in this section. He should have simply hit his communicator and called for help. Isn't that what a normal person would have done? Although, in the moment of pain and the want to get away from the back crushing support beam, logic didn't seem to exist. His hands grabbed the door and he pushed with what he could, but the doors were moving. It wasn't long before his tense face became softer, as he slid into another place.

So there he was, passed out, pinned upright between the door and a part of the ceiling.

*** Now ***

He scratched his head and tried to remember anything else. Waking up perhaps in sickbay. But nothing, he couldn't remember a single thing. He slowly moved his legs round, off the bed and on to the cool floor. As his legs bent, he felt his back stiffen with the slight pain that came with it. To his left on a small table was a data padd. A nice little note from sickbay, how they had patched him up and sent him back to rest. With the amount of casulties during the conflict, he oculdn't say he was surprised. They also wanted a list, an incident report, of times where he had previously injuried his back. The damage done to his back seemed to be a time bomb. It wasn't just the support beam, there was muscle damage there, as far as they could dating back a long time.

He raised his head and looked at the mirror on the wall. It seemed like a different man looking back at him as he recalled the memories of times he had injuried his back....

“Devil In The Details” Part 1

(Takes place five days after the end of the ‘Devil and the Deep Black Ship’)

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

Imperial Attendant K’vala Mahask

****

ICV Shabradnigdo

Deck Three

Galley

It took four days before the Attendant spoke to him again.

All things being what they were, Victor had been glad for the time without having to interact with anyone. Somewhere during the second day of work he’d put in on the shuttle and other parts of the ship, he’d realized that his headache was gone. It might be back, it might not, but for now it had faded away to nothingness and left him as he’d always been.

For what that was worth, anyway.

He’d busied himself for the two days since that discovery with other chores that he wasn’t prepared to take his Aunt’s word had been done correctly – they weren’t the ones that would die if they were wrong. He’d checked the Shabradnigdo’s two Phaser IV strips, necessitating a walk out on the hull to inspect them; recalibrated the shields; corrected an imbalance in the atmosphere processor and cleaned out the life support system’s ductwork to remove the faint mustiness that filled the ship; and finally double-checked the Attendant’s search to make certain that there wasn’t any contraband on the ship that might get them in trouble.

Victor had just finished the last, and was brewing a pot of coffee in the galley when the Attendant broke her silence.

“Why?” she snapped, voice full of vitriol.

“Because I wanted a cup of coffee,” Victor answered as he worked. It seemed obvious to him, but maybe Klingons made coffee – or whatever they drank that filled the coffee niche in their society – for different reasons.

“Did you not trust me?” she returned angrily, stalking across the deck towards him, her footsteps loud enough that he didn’t need to turn around to know exactly how far away she was. “Do you think me incompetent?”

“Yes.” That was easy too – Victor had never met a Klingon that could make a good cup of coffee, even with a replicator.

Her growl of response was immediate as her hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around. One of her sleeve-knives fell into her hand, and then was pressed against his throat. “toDSah!” K’vala spat, her face flushed and eyes burning with anger and what he took to be shame. “I will cut your heart out and eat it in front of your still living eyes!”

“Because I said you don’t know the first thing about making coffee?” Victor frowned. “Don’t you think that’s a bit… extreme, Attendant?” Maybe this was why Klingons didn’t know how to make coffee - they killed each other before they ever got to it.

She blinked once, confused. “Coffee?”

“Coffee, Attendant.” Victor held up the scoop in his hand, the precisely-rounded black grounds packed into it shivering not the slightest at the nearness of her knife to his throat.

“Coffee?” she repeated again.

Victor reached up with his free hand and pushed her knife aside, then deliberately turned his back and continued with his preparations. “What did you think I was talking about, Attendant?”

“I…”

“Yes?” Victor had never dealt much with children – they tended to scream and run faster than anyone other than Betazoids when confronted with him – but he imagined that this had to be much what it was like. Without the knives.

“You searched the ship again!” she spat. “I have already done so and found nothing, but you mock me, treat me as a child by doing it again!”

That was what this was all about? “Tell me, Attendant,” he said as he carefully leveled the grounds in the percolating cup and slid it into place. “Would you have looked again if *I* had searched first?”

Her answer was immediate. “Yes!”

“So, exactly why,” he asked as the machine hummed to life, “is it that you are surprised and offended that I did the same?”

The Attendant didn’t answer that one.

Which, Victor reflected, was hardly surprising; she didn’t like answering his questions. Most people didn’t. “Now that we have that settled,” he continued as he turned back to her,” I need you to do some shopping when we arrive at Denobula.”

Her eyes opened, anger flooding back in, and she started to snarl, “If you think that…”

“I think,” Victor interrupted, “that you have exactly three days worth of survival rations left, and then you’re out of food. I have four days of rations left, and then I am. I think that we need a cargo; otherwise no one will believe that we are actually fringe merchants. I think that we need clothing and miscellaneous gear because neither of us has enough with us for this trip. I think that the ship is too clean, and needs something cluttering it up to make it look like it’s been lived in. I also think that we need weapons, something that we’re painfully short on right now.”

“Weapons?”

It was no surprise that of all the items he’d listed, she chose that one to focus on. Diplomat and spy or not, the Attendant *was* a Klingon. “Weapons,” he nodded. “I brought nothing with me, and you have only your disruptor,” he eyed it for a second, noticed the freshly-cleaned emitter tip, and continued, “your mek’leth, and the ten other weapons you’re wearing.”

“Eight,” she corrected stiffly.

“Ten, Attendant,” Victor assured her. “Two sleeve knives, two boot knives, one knife down the back of your collar, a Kindaki razor-ring on the second finger of your right hand, a pair of hiltless stilettos in sheaths worked into the seams of your pants at each thigh, a small punch dagger worked into your belt buckle, and a comb-knife in your hair.” He tapped the back of his head in the spot she wore a plain comb to hold her hair up.

Her response was a wordless sound and then silence for several seconds as she glowered at him. “Weapons,” she finally repeated.

“Weapons,” he agreed. “If nothing else, I can get the replicator codes for several different kinds of shadow market blasters, but I’d prefer something more reliable.”

“And you wish me to buy them?” Her tone and the way she bristled suggested that she thought he was setting her up to be arrested.

“No. I’ll handle that. I need you to handle the purchase of a cargo, buy whatever gear you think you’ll need, and pick up some odds and ends – the kinds of things you’d have around if you’d been aboard the ship for months or years and collected them on the way.”

“Why buy such things for a short mission like this one?”

“Because the devil is in the details, Attendant,” Victor frowned again. If this was what having children around was like, then he needed to reevaluate his estimation of the average parent’s mental and emotional stability and watch them more closely for signs of imminent violence.

“The devil… what are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that another human expression or did you make that up just now?”

“It’s not original, Attendant,” Victor replied patiently. “It means that the small details are the place where people – and plans – get into trouble.”

The Klingon woman blinked once, nodded slowly, and finally admitted, “True.”

“I don’t know exactly what it is that we’re doing,” Victor pointed out, “but I can make reasonable assumptions. If we’re going undercover to the Triangle, then we need to fit in. This ship helps with that, but if anyone boards it, they’ll know that no one has lived on it for any length of time – it doesn’t have the feel of a lived-in vessel. That’s why we need a cargo, and why you need to buy some other things to make it look more like we’ve been aboard the ship for some time.”

“Ah.”

Victor supposed that was Klingon for ‘sorry for threatening to kill you in your kitchen.’

“And *you* will buy the weapons we need?” she asked quickly, diverting the topic,

“I will get them, yes. If you want something specific, give me a list and I’ll see what I can do. I make no promises about hand weapons like knives or your mek’leth, though – I’m better with ranged weapons.”

From the look on her face, she hadn’t expected him to admit that he wasn’t good at anything. “Not good… how?” she asked carefully.

She’d file the information away for later, to use when she decided it was time to kill him, that much was certain. She also needed to know now, so that she didn’t get herself – or him – killed, expecting something that he couldn’t deliver. “Using them, making them, judging them,” he explained. “I’m not good at any of it.”

She kept her voice neutral. “What is… ‘not good?’”

“’Not good’ means that if you hand me your mek’leth and tell me to fight someone with it, I’m going to throw it at my target so I have a chance of hurting him.”

She frowned. “I have seen you fight. You cannot be so…”

“Inept,” Victor finished for her without shame. “Yes, I can. A pain stick is just a stick. You hit things with it until it breaks. There’s no art to that. But a weapon,” he pointed to the knife she still held in her hand, “requires training and skill – and I have neither.”

K’vala eyed his skeptically. “Why? It is well known that all of your Starfleet’s security officers wish to be Klingon and practice our ways of battle, why not you?”

Given the number of security officers accessing the batleth holodeck training scenarios on the Galaxy and other duty stations Victor had been assigned to, she wasn’t far from wrong. “It isn’t *my* Starfleet, Attendant,” Victor observed. “I am not a Klingon. I cannot learn that way.”

“Are you defective? Even a Ferengi can learn to fight enough to not shame himself unduly as he dies.”

The percolator chimed behind him and Victor turned to start pouring a cup of coffee. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called ‘defective’ before, Attendant,” he said in his toneless, emotionally-contextless voice as he started to pour. ‘Monster,’ yes; ‘demon,’ certainly; even ‘freak’ or ‘devil,’ or any number of other things – but not ‘defective.’ I’m not broken; I just am what I am.” He set the coffee pot back in the percolator. “You should know that – you’ve seen it twice now.”

The Klingon woman’s expression was odd as he turned back around, steaming coffee cup in hand. “I remember,” she said slowly. Then, almost as if she were trying to avoid giving offense, he added, “That does not tell me why you cannot learn to fight like a warrior. There must be many that could teach you, even in Starfleet.”

Again it was a legitimate question, even if the answer would help her when she challenged him as much as it would now. “I can fight with my hands, Attendant. I know ranged weapons – phasers, disruptors, and others – inside and out.” He shrugged. “I’ve never had a need to learn to fight with knives, or other weapons.”

Her expression was still odd as she asked, “What do you do when you’re faced with them, then?”

That seemed obvious enough that Victor had to actually think about the question to make certain that he’d heard it right. “I shoot them. If I cannot do that, then I bleed until I’m close enough that it doesn’t matter what weapon they have.”

He eyes narrowed. “And then?’

“And then, Attendant,” Victor assured her evenly, eye locked with hers, “they do the bleeding.”

As she was about to reply, a chime came over the ship’s intercom and Victor started for the door. “We’re dropping out of warp, Attendant. Welcome to Denobula.” As the door started to slide closed behind him, he added, “Be thinking about that shopping and what you need, otherwise I’ll have to get everything – and you’ll have to deal with what I pick for you.”

"Practical Magic" Pt. IV

Senator Ramir Omar,
Ambassador
USS Galaxy

Lt. Brianna O'Shea,
SCE
USS Galaxy

“Thanks.” Omar relaxed and smiled. “And thanks for coming, too. It means a lot.”

They had reached their quarters. Colonel Omar entered a code and the ornate double-doors slid open, revealing a very spacious living room.

“The senate suite,” The colonel proudly said. “Since this is the official vessel for transporting senators, they had it outfitted – five bedrooms, replicator and kitchen, three bathrooms, a spa and a sauna.”

“And,” he finished. “No slaves, as you requested… I don’t believe I asked your name.” He looked at Anna.

Looking over at the elder man she smiled. "Brianna Catherine O'Shea... of the Belhara, Ireland, O'Sheas." She said, pride in her voice. Anna decided that it was best not to give him her rank, though he probably already suspected she was a member of Starfleet.

He considered it for several seconds. “Yes… Anna.”

“Aren’t these quarters for senators only, father?” The younger Omar suddenly realized something. “I can tell you’ve been in it before.”

The colonel smiled slightly, and his eyes twinkled. “Perhaps, but I expect the Empress to appoint me chairman of the senate when we arrive at Romulus – so really I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Enjoy yourselves.” Having finished his rather presumptuous statement, he walked off – leaving them outside their quarters.

Senator Omar stepped inside, looking around their temporary quarters – even more luxurious than his own Galaxy living area. He turned to Anna.

“What do you think of our temporary living place?”

Brianna stepped inside and nodded. "Beautiful.." She said, but couldn't help but wonder how many slaves made it this way. "So, you think I'll be before the Empress?" Anna asked.

Omar looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “The royal family owes our family deeply now, and as a friend of a senator… It’s a possibility.”

“But,” he added. “You have to realize that the Reman slave uprising of 2379, and the subsequent visit of the U.S.S. Enterprise, was the only time – in the whole of Romulan history – that a human has ever been inside the senate hall and the royal family’s chambers. It might be difficult.”

“Sorry,” he apologized yet again. “But I really appreciate you coming.” "No I understand, security reasons and stuff." She replied. "Please, stop apologizing for your peoples way, it's not my way but who am I to judge it?" Anna said as she looked around. "So, you going to dress me so I'll be more acceptable or do I have to figure out how to drape things myself?" Anna asked then smiled. “Sure,” Omar said, and then grinned. “But we’ll be here quite a while – the better part of a day – so, before we get changed for Romulus, do you want to check out the spa?” His smile widened. Anna grinned as his smile. "Sure... just reassure me that there isn't some group of Romulan men somewhere waiting for me to get undressed to see me nude." She said meaning hidden cameras. “No, relax,” Omar said reassuringly. “These rooms were built by senators, and as such, they would have made it surveillance-proof.” "Okay... thanks." Anna said then took his hand. "So lets do the spa thing." “Great.” They both walked into the adjacent room – marked out clearly by its traditional oak-like door (very similar in style to the sauna door.) Of course, it wasn’t an oak door, but the Romulan equivalent – at least in appearance.

Once they had sealed the door behind them, Omar – having quickly changed – stepped into the sparkling, quicksilver-like blue-clear water and spoke, “Activate spa.” Bubbles immediately spurted up and nearly engulfed him – at the same time, soothing steam rose from the marble-like floor (again the Romulan equivalent.)

“Come on in,” he said.

Brianna began to unbutton her shirt and let he slid off her body along with her bra. She then undone her jeans and removed them, before stepping over and sliding down into the spa. Resting moreso on top of him as there wasn't that much room, she smiled. "Might have to refit the Galaxy to have one of these." Anna said then smiled. "What is all this about, you having to go to Romulas?"

“My father had something to do with…” Omar began, as the spa’s heat enveloped them. He hesitated, however. “My father orchestrated the… removal of Sub-Commander Savar from the Galaxy, and he used my diplomatic aide as the weapon. Now, the royal family wants to praise both of us – they think I was an accomplice, when I was merely a pawn.”

"Oh." Anna said as she ran her hands through the warm water and brought a handful up and let it run over her shoulder. "You'll have to put me somewhere while you are in audience with the Royal Family."

“Hopefully you’ll be allowed inside with us,” Omar said. “I wouldn’t worry: although the royal family may seem powerful, they are merely figureheads today. The only real strength they have is to grant powerful people – such as my father – the title of aristocracy. The Senate runs everything, not the Empress.”

"Then why have them at all if they have nothing power wise?" Anna asked.

“Ah,” said the senator. “I said they had but one power – to invite people into the aristocracy. As a whole, the Romulan aristocracy is degrading – they used to have all the money, but now powerful military figures are the successful ones. All the aristocracy has left is its titles, and yet this new generation of military leaders want them too – through the royal family.”

"Okay." Brianna said as she laid her body against Omar's and laid there feeling his hands on her back. After a few hours of high warp, a good hour of Omar helping to dress her in the right attire. Just then there was a buzz at the door, probably a centurion to inform him they were entering orbit of Romulas.

"You sure this is how everyone dresses down there?" Anna asked as she looked at the gown she had on.

“Not everyone, no,” Omar chuckled slightly. “Only the wealthy aristocrats. In other parts of the empire, it’s fashionable for the wealthy to wear very drastic and trendy clothing designed for shock-effect, but here on Romulus the ruling classes are still very traditional in their ways.”

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” he remarked.

"Hope my curly hair isn't a bother, when it gets wet it curls naturally and if I don't blow dry it out it stays curly." Anna said as she checked herself out in the mirror. "I'm ready... My Lord, when you are."

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my lady,” he said with humour in his voice. Two centurions arrived, giving a polite bow before taking them to the transporter room.

When they both stepped on the transporter pad, bodyguards immediately surrounded them.

“We’ll be transporting into the town square – a very public place,” Omar explained to Anna. “These are turbulent times on Romulus – political figures can’t be too careful. We can’t transport into the Senate hall because they have transport scramblers, for security purposes.”

An officer activated the controls, and they promptly disappeared and then reappeared.

The capital city of Romulus was an urban metropolis – filled with tall, high-tech buildings and bustling with people. The town square, though, was relatively quiet – it was more like a park, an island of green amid a sea of grey. It was distinctly marked out by an imposing statue of the current Empress – made out of the finest materials available in the empire.

The bodyguards led the way – the senate hall was only a few hundred metres away, just out of visible sight.

“The royal family will likely be waiting with the senate,” Omar whispered to Anna, amid the bodyguards. “We must strictly adhere to protocol – do not speak unless spoken to. Although the Empress’ actual power is zero, theoretically it is still absolute.”

Brianna nodded as she followed few a step behind Omar. She didn't say anything as they walked but did notice that there were on lookers that looked as if they were seeing something for the first time. Which was probably true, a human woman walking with a Romulan senator. She resisted the urge to take his hand as they walked. When they came to the senate building, it was beautiful as it was imposing. When the guards spoke to her, she nodded, then picked up her long robes and began to climb the steps of the building heading inside with Omar and his guards.

They all entered into the reception hall – cool compared to the basking heat outside. Omar knew his father had not come down with the rest of them – he had likely gone to visit the Empress early.

The group proceeded to walk through the magnificently decorated senate hall, and into a second reception hall: the royal chambers lay beyond.

Four centurions – dressed in the colourful robes of imperial bodyguards – stood, guarding the imposing yet ornate double doors.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, ignoring Omar’s bodyguards, but politely bowing to the couple.

“Greetings, my lord, my lady,” he said graciously.

Omar was very surprised – his father had evidently talked to the Empress beforehand about a human coming to visit, or else the bodyguards would have likely wanted to detain her. The senator wasn’t surprised – his father was becoming increasingly powerful, and with this triumphant victory he technically had more power than the entire Romulan Senate (and that included himself, he noted with irritation.) The Empress would very likely have granted him nearly anything.

Omar’s bodyguards were made to wait outside, and the couple were scanned with Romulan tricorders for any kind of weapon. When nothing showed up, two of them carefully opened the double doors – they had been granted an entrance.

Although he had visited members of the royal family before, for ceremony and other state functions, Omar had not ever met the Empress herself. The middle-aged woman sat at the back of the vast hallway. Colonel Omar was standing near her, as were two more of her bodyguards.

Omar also saw the shadow of another figure in the background. His face was too distant to make out, but Omar knew who it was: Koval, chairman of the Tal Shiar for nearly half a century. Omar's father and him had been rivals for decades.

He and Anna approached. Without saying a word, the senator bowed as low as he possibly could, and motioned for Anna to follow.

Anna didn't say anything as she curtsied and bowed her head. Closing her eyes she remained that way until she figured it was fine to stand back up.

There was silence for several seconds, and then the Empress finally spoke.

“Senator,” she said mockingly. “Your father wouldn’t elaborate – why have I just allowed a human into my royal chambers?”

“You see, your imperial graciousness, that-”

“Be silent!” The Empress ordered, and Omar immediately stopped talking. The monarch then turned to Anna, as if she had been addressing her all along. Omar didn’t point out that she had started the sentence with ‘senator.’ She was likely just flexing what little political power she had left – the false respect of powerful politicians and soldiers.

“I would like to know, whether this woman can speak,” she said, keeping her eyes on Anna. “After all, for all I know – she could be a spy.”

She bent down towards Anna in a rather insulting manner (she did this with most of her subjects, not just with people outside the Romulan Empire) and scrutinised her for several seconds.

After half a minute she spoke. “Speak, human, do you have a name?”

Brianna remained looking down at the lfoor as she knew she was the only human she could be addressing. "Brianna Catherine O'Shea, Your Grace." She replied.

“Your Grace?” The Empress said with indignation. “From that, it seems you know how to behave – more than I can say for most humans.” This, of course, was a strange perspective, since she had not ever met a human before – she was merely demonstrating her ignorance, Omar noted.

“Rise,” she ordered, and the couple stood, facing her and Colonel Omar – who was standing next to the Empress with a smug expression on his face. The shadow of Koval in the background did not move, yet somehow he signalled for one of the Empress’ bodyguards to walk over. They discussed in the darkness for several moments, unnoticed by the monarch and the colonel, before the bodyguard walked back to the Empress – a pained expression evident on his face. He spoke quietly to the Empress, yet loud enough for everyone else to hear.

“Your majesty,” he said. “You should leave now.”

“Why?” The female ruler demanded.

“Chairman Koval has discovered that…” he hesitated as he looked at Anna. “That woman is Starfleet. She may be a spy-”

Senator Omar knew he should not have underestimated his people’s intelligence service – they would have investigated anyone seeing the Empress thoroughly.

However, the Empress interrupted the officer. “Nonsense. Do you know, centurion, that this is the first time a woman who is not a senator has been in here for years? I will not do them the discourtesy of throwing them out.”

“But-”

“Nonsense,” the Empress repeated, but much more firmly this time. The centurion fell silent, glancing at the distant Koval for support. Evidently he didn’t get it – since he returned to his position behind the Empress without another word.

“Now,” the Empress said to Anna, in a much friendlier tone – although Omar knew she would not ever lower herself to an apology. “How are you affiliated with this noble Romulan family?”

The colonel spoke up – without the Empress’ approval, Omar noticed (why was his father speaking at will inside the royal chambers? He and the Empress must have gotten onto friendly terms the hour before he and Anna had arrived.)

“I’d like to know that too,” the colonel said. “How, Anna, are you affiliated with our family?”

Anna was thankful that she wasn't shot on sight when it came out she was Starfleet. She decided to only reply to the questions she was asked, not wanting to make the situation worse. "It was perhaps a blessing masqurading as a mistake, your majesty. Senator Ramir and I had been both scantioned for the same shuttle, so we met there. I found him.... intriguing." Anna said, rather then saying they had been lovers. Anna just hoped their intelligence wasn't that good, or else knowing her luck the Empress would want them married in the name of furthering a shakey alliance with the Federation by accepting a human woman, starfleet officer at that, into the close knit ranks of a noble Romulan family.

“Interesting, Anna,” the Empress said, before looking at the colonel and his son. “I hope you two don’t mind if I take away the spotlight and put it on this human.” It was a pointless statement – even if they had a problem with not being at the centre of attention, they wouldn’t point it out to the Empress. Still, the senator was very surprised that somehow, the monarch was trying to identify with another female.

“What do you mean, exactly, by ‘intriguing’?” The Empress laughed. “I mean, I find my bodyguards ‘intriguing,’ but certainly not in the way your tone of voice implied.”

The Empress’ bodyguards began to laugh quietly at that remark (the Empress hadn’t intentionally been amusing, it was just how she had said it) but went totally silent when they saw the hostile glare of Senator Omar.

The whole room waited for Anna to reply.

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"Going Out With a Silent Bang" Part 2

Ethan scratched his head and tried to remember anything else. Waking up perhaps in sickbay. But nothing, he couldn't remember a single thing. He slowly moved his legs round, off the bed and on to the cool floor. As his legs bent, he felt his back stiffen with the slight pain that came with it. To his left on a small table was a data padd. A nice little note from sickbay, how they had patched him up and sent him back to rest. With the amount of casualties during the conflict, he couldn't say he was surprised. They also wanted a list, an incident report, of times where he had previously injured his back. The damage done to his back seemed to be a time bomb. It wasn't just the support beam, there was muscle damage there, as far as they could dating back a long time.

He raised his head and looked at the mirror on the wall. It seemed like a different man looking back at him as he recalled the memories of times he had injured his back....

*** 2354 ***

Ethan wondered around his parents quarters. They'd be home any minute now. Then he could go see his brother. He hadn't spent much time with him as of late, and he was going to find out why. So in the few minutes he had to wait, he just paced around, wishing that time would go by quicker.

Soon enough, the doors slid open and his parents strolled in, laughing about something. Being a young lad of only eleven, he brushed off their hellos and quickly ran out of his home. Racing down the corridor and avoiding lots of adults around him, he hurried into a turbolift.

On the ninth floor, he strolled down the upper level of the docking area. Not too far from him, he could see his older brother, leaning against the railings, watching several people leave their ships that must have docked a few minutes ago.

"So this is where you spend all your time?" Ethan asked with raised eyebrows.

Lon Suder turned his head and half smiled at his sibling. "Most of it." He then turned his head back and continued to rest his elbows on the railings.

Ethan being shorter, wrapped his arms around the railings like tentacles grabbing its food. He let the side of his head rest on the railing and looked down to where his brother was looking. One of the airlock doors slid open and the passengers of the latest cruise began strolling off. Most were dressed Starfleet uniform, no surprise there.

He looked back up to his older brother and just watched him for a moment. He was always calm and quiet. Just easy going. He hadn't made that many friends over the years. He had one or two from time to time, but they were soon shipped off, transferred to another ship or something. But Ethan smiled as he saw Lon smile. Then his eyes followed Lon's gaze down to the lower level. Two Starfleet officers stepped passed the airlock doors, a young woman in between them. She was probably in her early twenties, but she looked younger and innocent. The family looked around and began heading for a nearby area where they could grab some food.

"Who's that?" Ethan asked, his head still resting on the railings.

Lon turned to his brother and hesitated for a moment. "That's Kerrianna. A friend of mine."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Lon giggled and looked back down towards the family. "Now where did you hear about things like that?"

"I see it all the time. I know about people. Our parents for example. They're going out." Ethan replied, scratching his head.

Lon laughed again. "That's a little different."

"How?" Ethan asked.

Lon frowned and sighed. Always the way with little brothers, wanting to know why and how all the time. He took a deep breath and gave Ethan a pat on the shoulder. They slowly began strolling down towards the turbolift that would take them to the lower level. Lon put his arm around the innocent Ethan. "One day, you're going to meet someone who's going to knock the wind out of your lungs, the thoughts out of your head, and the feeling out of your knees. I doubt you know what that means kid, but you'll remember what I'm talking about when it happens."

"So, you like her?" Ethan asked rubbing his nose.

Lon stopped and slowly got down on his knees. Ethan at this point was only about three and half feet tall, short for his age, Lon almost being six feet tall. For a short moment, Lon just admired Ethan. Being so ignorant of the universe, feelings, politics and a lot of other things that he didn't need to worry about. Lon's life had already been laid out before him. Soon he was going to be leaving, and he wasn't looking forward to leaving Ethan. He so much wanted to watch him grow up. But it wasn't going to happen.

In a brotherly way, Lon put his hand through Ethans hair and rubbed his head like he was some sort of pet. Ethan just pushed his hand away and made an attempt to correct his hair style.

"Come on." Lon said getting up. "I'll introduce you."

"What's he doing?" Ethan asked pointing out a man looking at the insides of a nearby conduit.

"He's-"

Lon was cut off by a large explosion that erupted out of the conduit not too far from them. The force of the blast knocked Lon off of his feet. He crashed down on the floor with a hard thud. Ethan was pushed against the railings, back first. His body bent at an angle not experienced by him ever before. He fell to the floor in a heap, pain shooting through his entire body. As a kid, he could do nothing but cry, unable to move. The last thing he saw was his brother running towards him.

*** Present ***

Ethan began tapping away at the data padd. He gave a nod to himself and a smile at the memory. That was one of the last few times that he saw his brother before he left. He missed him. He made his way towards the replicator, suddenly realising that he was actually interested in making notes of incidents long passed. Would at some point be an interesting story to read for someone in medical... just maybe. He would have to account for the other stories later though. He wanted to see what state the ship was in, find out how long he had been out of the game, see how the others were doing. And he was in for a surprise or two, on all accounts.

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"First Inspection"

During the long journey around what was left of the ship, Ethan felt like he was a young Ensign again. Crawling around the ship, fixing whatever needed to be fixed. It was good though, no complaints, except the fact that this sort of thing happened far too often. But then if it didn't, they wouldn't need Engineers would they?

He also noticed the majority of Engineers, obviously from the Starbase were really young. Like some sort of back-up team sent directly from the Academy. A part of him did wonder if they knew what they were doing, if they had enough experience to deal with a ship this heavily damaged.

At long last, he came across a section not too far from Engineering. There, he found a familiar face.

The woman working on a diagnostic of two power couplings was someone he had not seen for years. She had brown long hair with a tint of red. Her skin, even through all the dirt and grease looked as smooth as ever.

"Long time no see." he commented, approaching the woman, his left hand supporting his back.

She flicked her head round to look at Ethan. She looked a little tired at first, but then her eyes lit up when she saw him. She smiled, making things seem not as bad as they were. Funny how some people could do that. "You know, everytime I see you, it's because of something like this."

"It's not my fault." Ethan rubbed his slight beard and cringed a little. As Chief Engineer, maybe it wasn't his fault, but it was his responsibility.

"Hmmm." was her reply and a devilish smile.

"So, what brings the glorious Chief Rachel Sanders to these regions. I hope you didn't make all this effort just for us." he joked.

Rachel unzipped her duty jacket and waved her hand in front of her face. "I happened to be in a near by area, wanted to come check out things. Figured these kids could use an experienced hand. Thought I'd check up on you too. But you were resting, or recovering. How are you?" her face turning to that of someone concerned.

"I'm ok. Slight back ache, nothing too major." he winked.

The two Chief Engineers gave an understanding look before giving each other a quick welcoming hug.

Ethan stepped back and looked around again. "You know I've not seen anyone from my crew, do you know where any of them are?"

Rachel nodded right away. "Jiiles just left sickbay. He has to take things light for a while, but I'm sure he won't." she added.

"Tom?"

"Sickbay. Plasma burns. But don't worry, he's ok and will be fine before this piece of junk will." she said waving her arms around her, gesturing at the ship which was actually looking like a large hulk of junk.

"Eshe?" Ethan continued to ask.

"Also sickbay, haven't had an update on her yet. There are a few others in sickbay also, most are resting. Hense all the new kids around here. But considering the shift rotations I planned out, we'll have Engineers working on this baby round the clock."

Ethan gave a nod of understanding. "Well, I really appreciate you helping out. It'll be just like old times." he said moving passed her, giving her left shoulder a pat as he did so.

She quickly turned and raised a hand. "This section is still closed down." she smiled slightly.

"It took me ages just to get here. What IS open around here?"

"Baker section through to Gamma is partially clear, the rest is still closed. We're working on it though. Obviously, everyone's working where they can, but I'm sure you know it'll take ages to sort most major sections out, like Engineering."

"Of course." Ethan was quick to respond. "I don't think there's been anything this bad since.... Oh, we lost the Bridge a few years back. That alone was hard work, but this..." he trailed off. "Thanks again for being here."

"I'm happy to help. Just glad you guys made it here in one piece."

Ethan began to move down the corridor and noticed Rachel walking with him. After all these years, she hadn't really changed at all. Still the same personality, the same looks. But then she could probably say the same about him.

"So how's the Lakota these days?" he wondered out loud.

"Just finished another upgrade. Only small, class 4 upgrade. Had some trouble with the primary computer core and the EPS power relay stations on the outer sections of the shield grid. But after a lot of brain fighting, we got through it. Thought I'd take a quick vacation before we head out again. That brings me to here." she explained.

Ethan nodded as she told the story. There was always something to talk about with her. Of course, it usually started off with work talk. Not surprising. But no doubt, it would lead to more social topics soon.

He wasn't looking forward to the next few weeks, rebuilding the ship and all. But it was a challenge to be sure. And once complete, it would be a hell of an accomplishment. And maybe, just maybe it would get rid of that damned quick virus too. That he'd have to discuss with Rachel at some point later. He was also reminded about most of his team. He'd have to drop by sickbay and check up on them at some point in the very near future. He just wanted to inspect, first hand the physical brutality that the ship took.

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