"A Refit of Galactic Proportions"

(Backpost: Takes place before the memory traveling subplot begins.)

By

Lt. Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief

Location: Main Engineering, USS Galaxy

There was one thing about Main Engineering that never changed, Iniara noted as she walked through the hallways of Deck 36. It was always busy. Which is why she got right to the point, grabbing the first crewman she could get her hands on.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant O'Shea."

Silently the young crewman pointed across the room, pinpointing the location of the Chief Engineer. Before Iniara could even thank him he was gone, dashing down the hall with purpose.

Carefully she made her way across the room, doing her best to avoid all the personnel moving about. When she had received the message from Lt. O'Shea, Iniara had decided there was no time like the present and had quickly made her way to Main Engineering. Now, as she barely avoided yet another collision, she wondered if she should have waited until later.

Eventually she came upon the woman who had been pointed out to her. Not wanting to interrupt, Iniara instead positioned herself to the side, waiting for an opportune pause in the Chief Engineer's flurry of action.

Anna was standing there fixing a problem a name less ensign had created and then turned to look at the man. "From now on I don't want you doing anything without someone else with you. You say it was a mistake, fourth year cadets don't make that kind of mistake, Ensign. I suggest you find a copy of the Starfleet Engineering Study Manual and began reading and praying because I'm going to be watching and testing you over the course of the next few weeks.

I need able-bodied people, not people who botch things." Anna said in a civil manner and then her eyes drifted over toward the woman standing there.

"Yes, 'Lieutenant?" she said then looking at Iniara.

"Lieutenant O'Shea?" Iniara began, stepping forward. It was less a question than it was a simple confirmation of the woman's identity. "Tarin Iniara, Operations. I received your message requesting a meeting. Is this a good time, or should I return later?"

"Oh yes... no, now is fine. I can take a break for a moment. How about we talk in my office." Brianna said as she gestured toward the office. Once inside she went to the replicator. "Would you care for something?" Anna asked and then asked for her glass of water.

"Just a glass of water, please," Iniara replied, before sliding into an available chair.

"What I wanted to speak to you about was outfitting the Galaxy with new components... such as boder lines. They're obsolete and outdated... yet Starfleet continues to use them. I want to get into fabricating new components. For that I'm going to need Operations' help. Please know my intention is to change not only Engineering but any department that has parts that are old and outdated."

"Sounds like a big project. I was under the impression that many older components had been cycled out during the refit, but it seems I was wrong. That would have made our lives too easy, I guess."

"Such a large-scale update is going to take a lot of resources, and a lot of coordination with all our departments. Which I'm sure you already realized, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here right now." Iniara leaned forward in her chair, pulling a PADD from its usual spot under the back of her jacket. "So, how to best approach this? Are there any particularly bad areas you would like to tackle first?"

"With the time frame we had to work with, all we could do was remove what was damaged and replace. Wasn't much time for retrofitting old components." Brianna said, as she turned and sat back down with a mug of raktijeno. "I'm thinking Engineering and Operations, mainly cause we need those departments in top form. Once they are done, we can work on the other departments." Anna said, then sipped her drink and continuing.

"I'm interested in what you think of it. Please, if we are going to work together, let’s set aside formalities. Call me Anna..." She said, then offered a warm smile.

"In that case, please call me Iniara," the Bajoran replied, echoing the other woman's smile. Shifting gears smoothly, she continued on.

"Engineering seems the most logical place to start. And with the warp engine tests in progress, it seems only natural that we focus on that area. What I'm thinking is that we assign teams of people to each problem spot: diagnostic specialists and technicians to assess each area, with the design-oriented personnel there to develop a solution. Once they come up with a potential fix, have them run it by you and your assistants, revise and tweak it until we get a final solution. Then we can work on the fabrication of any needed parts and supervise their seamless integration into ship's systems."

As she spoke, Iniara began to tap on her PADD, taking a few brief notes though still maintaining eye contact with Anna. "Of course, I will make sure that all my personnel are well briefed on this project, so that no irritating misunderstandings or work stoppages occur. I can also offer several officers and a multitude of enlisted crewmen who have very strong backgrounds in Engineering, should you need additional help."

"Any help would be most appreciated," Anna replied, then took a drink from her mug. "I've sent a note to Captain M'Kantu about what we will be doing. I expect him approve the project shortly. When I get that I'll make sure you get a copy, that way we are all working on the same page. Might be good to copy the leader to all department heads so they all know what to expect in the long term," Anna said, then made some notes herself.

"Do you have any questions before I get back to work?" Anna asked.

"No, none right now." Iniara shook her head slightly, tapping out a few last notes before sliding the PADD back to its original spot under her uniform. "I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary, so if there's nothing else I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

"Alright... get any ideas. Let me know, we'll get together in a few days and go over what we start with here in Engineering. Good to be working with you, Lt." Brianna said, then gave a nod and headed out.

"A Little Harm"

Unaurie Quyve, Civilian Scientist

= = =

Main Engineering Offices
Unaurie's Office

The ship had settled into normal space again, leaving Unaurie with both a banging headache and the sense that she'd not quite been able to give the Captain the message she'd intended to give him. There was still something wrong with the whole setup, something the Deltan woman couldn't quite put her finger on. She had been certain of something, danger, a great harm that was coming to them, something. Now she couldn't quite remember.. It bothered her a great deal.

Her stomach twisted, once again upset by the medication she took to suppress her pheromones, but there was work to do of a theoretical kind and that was why Starfleet wanted the scientist aboard the ship in the first place. What about the warp bubble had caused the ship to slip into that alien dimension? Was it the nature of the warp bubble at all, or something to do with the way warp travel had a way of decaying the fiber of space in the first place? Was that alien dimension the correct subspace dimension in the first place? There were too many questions and not nearly enough data to fill in the holes.

Unaurie grabbed a waste receptacle and quietly retched into it. Only water and bile came up. She hadn't eaten in twelve, no fourteen hours now, by the way she figured it. She'd been too busy with getting things ready for the test run. It hadn't even occurred to her. At least it hadn't been a completely dry heave, she consoled herself as she ran through what little data they could salvage from the nonsense the ships computer had automatically picked up during the testing.

"Forgot to eat again?" a familiar voice asked.

Unaurie didn't look up. She recognized the voice of Lieutenant Commander Daniel Fraiser without needing to look. She suspected if she did look he'd still be 'Lieutenant Fraiser.' It hardly mattered. Either way, he was a distraction.

"I've got a problem and no solution, yet," she replied, mentally adding another variable to the list of things fouling the data; interference caused by lingering traces of the other dimension.

She heard him move around behind her, but Unaurie still didn't look up: she was trying to factor in variances due to quantum flux from the alien dimension. She felt Daniel Fraiser's strong, yet all too frail, human hands rubbing her neck and shoulders. Ah, the mistakes of youth, Unaurie remembered fondly. She knew this memory, too well. It happened during a particularly long and lonely night working on one of the early Temporal Steam Engine prototypes.

"This is inappropriate, Daniel," she stated, only half heartedly shrugging off his hands. The strong hands massaging her shoulders felt better than she remembered.

Fraiser leaned close to her ear. "What harm can it do, Una?" he asked, his breath warm and his lips brushing gently against the lobe of her ear. "The problem will still be there later. You need a little relaxation."

The Deltan woman laughed warmly. "It's never just a little relaxation with you. You always want to swim in dangerous waters."

Oh, yes. She remembered this particular memory quite well. "Computer, lock door for privacy. Turn on the particulate filtration system for this room to remove all airborne particles that are not part of the normal atmospheric make up of the ship's atmosphere, protocol Delta One."

Daniel Fraiser laughed. "You're such a worrier. You won't break me. No harm, no foul. Well, maybe just a little harm" he teased, "but no foul, so what's the problem? You'll think more clearly if you take a little break."

The computer acknowledged the command.

Unaurie pushed the readouts aside. "Maybe you're right, Daniel. I could use just a little break." She closed her eyes to the rest of the world and let herself relax under Daniel Fraiser's strong fingers.

Outside the locked room, if anyone suspected anything, they kept it to themselves. The only telltale sound that might have given anything away were the atmosphere recyclers: they hummed just little louder as it worked at peak efficiency to keep the air throughout the ship clear of Deltan pheromones. Not a single molecule slipped through the system.

“Roomies, Memories, and Bad Boys”

Naranda & Branwen

Nara’s & Bran’s Quarters: Common Area

Nara walked in and plopped on the couch crossing her arms agitated. She had found Engineering, with Kastanza behind her staring. The nerve of that man. He should just concentrate on his work and leave her alone. Now she was home and she could try to relax.

Branwen had just come home from her own shift. As she was exhausted, still sleeping badly. For the first time in a few years she was thinking about home again a lot. Yet she managed a smile when her roommate came in.

"You look like you have had a rough day."

"Kastanza." Nara growled. She looked over at Bran and softened her tone, "How about you?"

"Just a lot of work." Branwen said evasively. "Is he still after you? The idiot cannot take a hint."

Nara laughed, "Maybe I can get Abaddon to take care of him for me. He'd scare Kastanza's thing right off."

Branwen giggled. "And if that doesn't work, I will beat him up for you."

Nara smiled, "Me and you both. I'm sure a few other ladies will be willing to go at him. I think he hits on every female crewmember, even if they are into other females." Nara shrugged, "Heck, I think he'd even try to turn them..." Nara laughed, "Or turns a neuter into a female."

Nara pleasured in the Kastanza bashing, but looked at Branwen with concern. "That's the typical response. There's always a lot of work, but something is making you weary."

Darned genes from her mom. She was not at all interested in being a counselor, but stupid intuition was there. Even before the telepathy awakened, she couldn't let someone get by with saying that they're fine when they obviously weren't.

"I just want to warn you, if I have nightmares tonight just wake me and I'll go somewhere else. I should be fine, just my memories playing up because of what happened." She shrugged not wanting to make a big problem out of it.

"If you have nightmares, I'll come comfort you, unless you'd prefer to be left alone. But I will not boot you out." Nara said firmly with concern.

"Thank you." Branwen said softly. "The last few days have been stressful. It will pass again, yet it may take some time."

Nara nodded, "Everything does." She smiled reassuredly at her room mate.

"Yes. In any case and made a new friend out of Dr Ti. Unfortunately my other savior is not real. I wish he was." She smiled at her roommate.

Nara sat up, turning and bending her leg to put it on the couch. She looked at Bran confused, "Explain?"

"When I was little I made up an imaginary friend, I imagined he was one of King Arthur's knights, sir Gawain. He was my dream again, he is so handsome. Nara I wish he could be real."

Nara smiled, "I never did ask what happened when we were all jumping around memories."

"I went back home as a child, it was not a pleasant experience." Branwen's face fell. "I hope you had more luck."

Nara shook her head, "It was like my life flashed before my eyes, except not in order. Also visited other people's memories, and they visited mine." Nara listed off the people she encountered, "Saul, Miramon, North, and then Klaus. Klaus seemed to have the worst of it." Nara frowned hoping he was with his wife now and she could somehow comfort him.

"The CMO, I met him. He seemed pretty shaken, and he promised me to see a shrink."

Nara nodded, "Good." She sighed, "I also need to see Saul. Have some questions." She was talking out loud really. She looked back up at Bran, "Why was your childhood unpleasant?"

"Extremely. I ran away from home when I was fourteen. And then lived with my sister. She also ran away as a child." She looked at the ground.

Nara was curious to know more, but wasn't sure Bran was ready to share, so she changed the subject, "Got any plans tonight?"

"Not yet." In fact she didn't socialize much yet. Although she had made a few friends already.

Nara thought a moment. She wanted to get back to routine. Nara stood, "I'm going to the holodeck and then to ten forward. If I'm not back by tomorrow, assume I went back to an alternate dimension." Before she walked through the door she smiled turning, "Or killed Kastanza and got thrown in the brig." She laughed, not meaning at all what she said.

"Have fun. And I will come looking for you if you are not back home by midnight." Bran smiled.

"The Knight in the shiny armour"

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London

Ensign Saul Bental

"I will do it upon arrival to the planet."

That single sentence, sent to a dummy address using an encryption code, was the last in a series of messages Saul worked on for the last two hours.

Between solidifying the new secondary intelligence unit, going on report of ships with unique warp signature in the vicinity, sending instructions to those who took care of his various possessions and trying to find the best way to disarm the 'Nara affair' (Which was the subject of that last message), Saul could not find a single free moment ever since the entire Galaxy crew found themselves in that alien forest clearing, and then back in 'reality'.

Nevertheless, free time or not, there was one debt he was going to pay, and did so gladly.

He left his new office, heading outside the Galaxy's Intel. center. On his way, he stopped by the Intel. center's replicator, and ordered the computer to replicate him a bouquet of flowers found on Welsh, Earth.

If he was supposed to be a knight from a lady's dream, the least he could do was to act like a gentleman, no?

Ignoring the amused glance from Chief C'hitah, Saul continued to pace in the general direction of the quarters of one, 2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London.

* * * *

Branwen had slept badly again, thinking back to her childhood. Her horrible childhood. In fact she was still daydreaming, so happy when the knock on her door came.

Upon opening she gasped and then smiled. Was she still dreaming? If so, then it was a happy dream. It always was with him in it.

"Sir Gawain." She whispered.

"In the flesh, minus the shiny armor." Saul said with a smile, offering her the flowers.

"They are beautiful, daffodils from home." She smiled brightly at him. "How can you be real?"

"My actual name is Saul Bental, and I am an Intelligence officer..." He said, still standing at the door, "I promised I'll see you after the whole dreams thing is over, and well... a knight doesn't break his promises."

"Yet you came in my dreams as a child. I have been in love you all my life." She blushed brightly. "How can you be a Starfleet officer?"

It was Saul's turn to blush. Despite all the 'hardy merchant' charade, and despite having his empathy eroded by twenty four uneasy years, the marine's confession still moved something in him. When he spoke up again, he did it in a very soft and gentle tone.

"From what I gathered after we all returned to the 'real world', an alien species somehow managed to penetrate our sub-conscious, our dreams, and mixed them. After being in your dream, I found myself in the dream of a Deltan engineer at some science conference, then in the memory of a Science officer who lost a father-figure during a bar-fight... in most of the dreams, I portrayed the role of one of the main characters in that dream. In your case, it was Sir Gawain."

He paused, his eyes dancing on the walls of her room, unconsciously comparing it to the rooms of her home on Welsh. "So, after our... common experience, I couldn't leave it behind. I had to come and see you, ummm... I don't know why really. But here I am..."

She blushed even deeper. "Maybe you were drawn to me. Maybe you will and I are meant to be together somehow. It could be an act of God."

The witty Intelligence officer, who always had a smart-ass response hiding in his sleeve, didn't really know how to answer that one. He stepped into the room, the door closing behind him, and looked at Branwen. He suddenly realized it was the first time he saw her fully grown.

'Is there a single ugly woman on this ship?', he contemplated inwardly, noticing for the first time how beautiful she was. Two intense yet innocent-looking brown eyes met his gaze, and there was a single loose strand of dark hair on her forehead which just called for him to reach out and brush aside.

Then, her words finally sunk in. Especially that last line.

"I believe... that each person hold his own 'destiny' in his hands. So I wouldn't call it 'an act of god', but perhaps... there is something... different. I don't know, it would help to understand why we encountered the people we did during the dreams, and not other people. For example, why Tizarin was there..."

Saul felt how he stumbled on his own words, and it wasn't the first time. He recalled experiencing the same problem with Dhani, and even with Tizarin herself. With Nara, it was different, but Nara was different in ways he still wasn't able to fully understand.

"So I suppose that's why I came, perhaps. To find out who you really are, Branwen. And... perhaps to apologize for violating what must have been a very private memory. Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all." Branwen had been in love with her knight all her life. And it was difficult to see him as anything else. He was so beautiful, so perfect, so nice. "And you did not violate anything, without you I could not have faced it. Not again after all these years." She swallowed back emotions.

Bran still had not had her hand treated. Saul noticed that as well. Without thinking, he took her hand with his and examined the finger.

"I didn't know the dream had physical implications.", he said sternly. Then, he reflected on his encounter with 8-Ball. If he and 8-Ball would have failed in preventing the brawl from starting and changing its consequences, would he be dead now?

"Apparently. My finger was still broken when we got back. I can count myself very lucky it was a memory in which my father was pretty lenient and only broke my finger and gave me a few lashings on my back."

"I wouldn't call any of it 'lucky'... no child deserves such a treatment. And the finger - you should take care of it." Saul said, his gaze moving up from her finger to her face, stalling on her chest for a moment almost too long to be appropriate. Half of his mind told him to take his feet and leave, the other half to brush that strand aside already. And then there was

something else, a flash of a memory. Himself, standing outside Nara's house on Sakaria, leaning on a tree while she and someone else were inside it.

"I might.I know Ti is wonderful and I trust her, I just have to get the courage to go there. This memory brought all my bad experiences with doctors back." She smiled shyly. "You must think me a coward."

"Someone once told me 'Don't rush to judge people before you were in their shoes.'. However, that's a fear you'll have to overcome while you're on the Galaxy. This ship is very generous when it comes to causing injuries to its crew."

He chuckled. That chuckle sounded very pathetic in his ears. This was a serious issue for her, not something easy!

"I don't believe I'm suggesting this myself, being someone who would rather do a double shift at waste-extraction than to have session with a counselor... but maybe you should go and talk to a counselor about that fear. Perhaps they'll have a better advice about it than 'Just do it'."

She giggled. "How about I promise to mention it to the marine shrink."

"You're a marine, then?" Saul inquired, genuinely surprised. The woman looked too naive, too fragile... no, not completely fragile. On a closer inspection, Saul could see that beneath the tracksuit she had quite an athletic body. Still, she was nowhere near the SF Marine stereotype.

"I am sorry." She giggled again. "2nd Lt London, Marine staff psychologist. Just out of the academy. Do you still like me now?"Bran teased.

Saul's mouth gaped.

"Ummm... ehhhh... I apologize for the 'waste-extraction' comment, errr... of course I still like you.", he chuckled nervously. "And I did tell you that you don't need me to keep yourself safe..."

"I have embarrassed you." She looked at the ground. "Now we come to the point where you tell me you have to leave or something and I will not see you again."

"Actually no." Saul gathered some courage, and the balance in his mind shifted toward staying. "Now comes the point where I tell you that you're one funny lady."

"Funny, me?" Branwen said laughing. "That is something I don't hear very often."

"Happens. So... what happened after I left you and Tizarin? I mean, Dr. Ti?"

"Lady Ti." She corrected him with a smile. Then she began to tell him their adventure. "And after that, I ended up in my bosses dream, very strange. What happened to you?"

"Too much to tell. I followed the road and found myself in the memories of other crewmembers. I hoped that the road will lead me to you two lovely ladies again, but in the end I found myself at the alien clearing like everyone else..."

"You didn't experience painful memories of your own?" She asked concerned, coming closer towards him. Somehow the thought of him in pain made her very sad.

"I... no, only one intense memory at the end, of me leaving my homeworld."

Saul couldn't bring himself to call Utrecht III home. He also couldn't admit that the memory of him sneaking into that freighter was painful for him, especially because of the final conversation - which did not take place in reality.

He also couldn't admit that he found himself more and more drawn to Branwen.

The gentle fragrance of her shampoo penetrated his nostrils, and once again he found two big, deep brown eyes staring at him. This time, he surrendered and shifted that stray strand of hair aside, his fingers brushing against her forehead.

Gently she touched his hand, with a featherlight touch she traced his fingers, while her eyes searching his. "My knight in shining armour." Branwen whispered. Usually she was very shy around men, yet with him it was as if she had known him for years.

Saul was torn. Every fiber of his body shouted at him to hold that slender, awaiting body. To just let go of everything, and let her affection and his attraction to lead them on.

Yet he knew it would be taking advantage of her. If this was a business opportunity, Saul would pounce on the pray, and emerge with a generous profit. The problem with knights in shiny armor, however, that they're too chivalrous and protective.

"Branwen..." He said, patting her cheek before standing up. "Despite the dream, I am not really him. I never rode on a horse before the dream, and instead of saving lovely ladies from dragons and practicing my swordsmanship, I spent my childhood running around in the slums of some backwater planet. I feel like I'm misleading you."

"No you are not. You never lied to me not even in the dream. Maybe you are even better than Sir Gawain. I think I really like you. " she blushed again.

"I like you too, Branwen. You are..." Many words came through his mind, but he said none. He scratched the back of his head with embarrassment. "I'm running on a very tight schedule right now because all that has happened - I will probably pay for this visit with less sleep - but once things calm down, I would love to meet you, do... I don't know, whatever it is you like doing in your spare time. If after getting to know me you'll still hold that opinion... well."

"I will hold you to it." Gently she kissed him on the cheek. Startled by her own action, so she giggled nervously.

Saul patted the back of her head - just like he did back on the forest, when she was a child and not the stunning young woman who then stood there in front of him. For a second, he almost leaned forward to kiss her on the lips, but then he just saluted and dashed out of the room.

Only when he reached the turbolift, he realized that his cheeks were burning like a ruptured plasma conduit. Then, a face appeared before his eyes, and it wasn't Branwen's.

It was Naranda's.

"But I don't OWE her anything, I mean we're not really... she never said...", He said to no one in particular, then forced his mind to go back to work issues and to the interviews for Lily Squad scheduled for tomorrow.

Bran leaned against the wall after he had left. She was totally in love, unimaginable that her secret thought-up boyfriend happened to be real.

(NRPG/OOC : Way-Backpost, set shortly after Galaxy departs from SB212.)

"Music to Thine Ears"

By Ensign Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief

Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Operations Officer

Location: Ten-Forward Lounge

It was 1600 and Jamson just finished an intriguing course of Tellarite debating skills. Tellarites had a strange passion for debate and argument, and would never pass the opportunity to prove it. They would sometimes even argue against their own belief, just for the sake of enjoyment. All that senseless debating was not too weird for the headstrong Klingon 'imitator '. Michael himself was, at times, persistent...but unlike Tellarites, he would only stick to what he believed in. A debate could lead into a dispute, which could probably lead to anger, which could cause a fight, and what would be better than a good brawl, to prove the winner was right? Klingon justice and way of life.

Jamson was onboard only for a couple of days, and already was in charge of gamma shift in his own department. While despising gamma shift, since it was the shift for junior officers, he did adore the hours. The bridge was 'quiet', not too many crew members pestering him around or a long list of tasks to perform. He would never admit it, and would kill anyone who claimed it, but at certain times, he enjoyed being a junior officer, not having all that responsibility and duties. Furthermore, during the years since his last demotion, he tried to keep himself away from the important work and chain of command. He was ashamed of his career, and therefore, he chose to become invisible.

Jamson still had plenty of time before his shift at 2100 hours, and even though it was a bit early for a drink, he decided to have one and take a nice short nap afterwards. The familiar doors of Ten Forward revealed the old mess hall, decorated for Christmas. Except for some minor details which probably came with the last renovation, it was just as he remembered. Taking a sit on the bar, he planned to get his drink and then move back to one of the tables in the corner, right next to windows viewing the stars.

"What would it be?" the Bolian bar keep asked.

Michael stared at the annoying Bolian; it wouldn't be too long before the blue creature would start a conversation. 'Of all the races in the universe, why most of the bartenders and bar keeps on starships had to be Bolians...' he thought to himself and unwillingly said "Give me...a Klingon Chech'tluth".

The Bolian giggled "Isn't that a bit too strong for this time of day? How about a Raktajino? Or even a nice Klingon Disruptor?"

The only disruptor Jamson was able to think of, was the one stuffed into that irritating Bolian's mouth "Chech'tluth, no schnapps".

"One Chech'tluth coming up" The Bolian wiped the smile off his face.

Glancing around, Michael noticed a woman playing the piano. It seemed like she was just rehearsing, but still sounded pretty well.

"She plays the piano rather nice, doesn't she?" The comment came from a Bajoran woman sitting nearby, who had obviously been observing him as much as the pianist.

"One Chech'tluth Sir." The Bolian brought Jamson his drink.

"Yes, she does," Michael replied to the woman and nodded to the Bolian.

Turning more towards Michael, the woman quickly adjusted her attire, a subdued blue and grey robe which bore a superficial resemblance to Vulcan attire but without all the superfluous fabric. "That's Erin,” she began. “She's the Manager of Ten Forward and quite a singer too. Pity she’s stuck on this boat, entertaining a group of mostly uninterested officers."

Jamson smirked, he was amused by the comment, and that was extremely rare. Realizing he was sort of smiling, he wiped the smirk of his face and extended his hand "Michael Jamson".

Iniara took his hand. "I’m Iniara,” she replied, for the moment omitting her surname.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I'm new?" Jamson took a sip from his drink.

"Not really...I don't know you, and that means you're new, so why bother?" She said sarcastically.

Jamson almost burst into laughter. "Damn Bolian!" He muttered, "I said I wanted a Chech'tluth, not a Cardassian kanar!"

Iniara half-snorted, wondering if he noticed the bridges on her nose when he said that. "You should try a Bajoran steamed Rum Punch".

Jamson now saw she was a Bajoran and asked with interest, "What's in it?" He had some thoughts on Cardassians he wanted to share her with, but not all Bajorans reacted well to topics revolving Cardassians. Bloody spoon heads, they cost him his command! He lost everything he had achieved and worked for, because of the Cardassian dogs. They had no honor, they were worse than the Romulans, a race dedicated to deceit. He lost his second ship, the Cherokee, to the Cardassians prevaricators, and was demoted to lieutenant after a good quarrel with some of them which turned into a marvelous fight back on Starbase 133.

"Bajoran Rum, Atraxian Vodka, Risan Passoa and Kahlua, oh and some sparkling water" she replied.

"Sounds similar to a Commander's Grade. Very relaxing..." He sipped his entire drink and closed his eyes. "Let me guess...Security?" he said while his eyes were still shut. Her sarcasm and behaviour signaled him she was related to the military in a certain way, and as a Bajoran, she was probably a member of the Resistance during the Occupation, even though she appeared to be younger.

"In the past...yes, but now, aside from this attire, I choose gold like my department. Or rather, I should say it chose me," Iniara continued, the memory of her demotion briefly passing through her mind.

"Engineering?" He asked again and waved to the Bolian.

"You should know better," she insinuated.

"Operations?" Jamson froze. "Iniara....Tarin Iniara?" How foolish of him, she was Curtis' deputy. "You're the Assistant Chief of Operations?"

She nodded slowly. "That would be me. Ensign Tarin Iniara, at your service".

"What would it be, Sir?" The Bolian interrupted again.

"Give me...a Bajoran steamed Rum Punch" He glanced to Tarin and immediately added, "Make it two."

“Barely aboard, and already well on your way to being a certified barfly,” Iniara chuckled before turning back to the bar. “So, you’re new. What brings you to this little boat of ours, anyway? Fame, fortune, lucky assignment…unfortunate transfer?”

Jamson smirked again, this was highly unusual. "Let's see...I've attained my 'fame and fortune' years ago. As for luck, never believed in it. What's left? Unfortunate transfer? Actually, I asked for this one. I've been assigned to this old boat several times in my life, and it looks like I can't let go, like a Klingon Grishnar cat".

This time the Bolian refrained from interfering with the conversation and just placed the drinks next to Iniara and Jamson.

Iniara took a long drink from her glass. She had no idea what a Grishnar cat was, but her mind seemed content to brainstorm a few possibilities. Suddenly she had a mental image of a tiny domesticated cat hanging on to something for dear life, and couldn't help but laugh to herself. Although she hardly knew anything about her companion save his name, the analogy seemed sad in a way. But there was little sense dwelling on it now.

"So, you've been on the Galaxy before," she continued before the silence stretched on too long. "Has anything notable changed since you first served aboard her?"

Jamson played around with his drink "Well...the ship seems much larger, I miss the old Galaxy class. There's a different captain. So many crew members, young crew members which I don't know. I miss the old ones...but essentially, the feeling hasn't changed, it's the good old Galaxy, and I can still feel it's one of only places in universe I can call home." The new thrilling look of the Galaxy-A along with the new systems and technologies didn't excite Michael one bit. He was a lone wolf, but even a wolf had friends, and he left them all in his past.

"Do you ever-" Jamson was interrupted by his communicator badge. It wasn't visible, since he wasn't on duty, but still he kept it in one of his pockets. ["Ensign M'rek to Jamson. May I remind you that you have a counseling session with Commander Dallas in less than 5 minutes, sir?"]

"Vulcans..." Jamson grumbled. Counseling sessions were a must for the decommissioned officer. He had to undertake therapy sessions on each and every ship and station he was assigned to since his 'incidents'. "On my way."

Iniara smiled softly. “Never understood why some Vulcans choose to become counselors. To each his own, I suppose.”

"Passionless creatures...not as worse as doctors, but nothing beats a condoling counselor!" He stated. His love for certain species, doctors and especially counselors was well known across the Milky Way. He used to change counselors like socks, since no one was up for the challenge. The only one who up for it, was Karyn Dallas, and the only one who truly helped him, was the legendary counselor Shivok. He respected both of them dearly.

"Please excuse me; I have to confront a ghost from the past." He rose from his chair. He missed Karyn and their sessions, it was a game to him in a way, to see who shall prevail their joint sessions. "Maybe we could continue our conversation in another time?" he asked Iniara.

“Definitely. Sounds like you have an interesting afternoon ahead of you; don’t let me keep you from it. I’ll see you around.” Iniara waved as Jamson departed, then continued on with her drink.

"Weirded Out - Part II"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer

IC: Paulo walked down the corridor heading towards his quarters. One of the few benefits of being an ex-con was that no one wanted to room with him. Luckily OPS was able to set something up where he had a smaller room to himself. He liked the privacy that it offered, but it did isolate him more then he had ever been before.

He walked over to his replicator and ordered a small dinner and headed to his desk which doubles as his table most of the time. He pulled up the files relating to the Havras system. Cora had pulled a ton a strings and even some arms to get his clearance to a level he could be effective. He nibbled on a piece of bread as he read over the reports made by Captain Elaithin Jii of the USS Miranda. It was a dry read as all reports by starship COs where. Talked about what happened just prier to the incident as well as shortly after the USS Relentless and her task force had showed up to save both the Galaxy and Miranda.

He had already gone over the reports made by Captain's M'Kantu and Therrien. For something such as this to happened was huge and it had the whole Intel field wild with rumors and speculation. It was hard to find the truth in it all, but that is why he was an Intelligence officer. He was there to find the truth out and to report it to the people who needed to know it.

While he sat there his mind started to wander and he found himself again in what seemed to be his own past. He looked around and found himself back at the penal colony working on some power inverter that had blown. "Hand me that spanner," Paulo asked the young male sitting next to him. The guy next to him just went by Tom and was here for some theft of something. He didn't talk about it much, but he was always eager to learn something new so Paulo had taken it upon himself to teach the young man whatever he could, including how to repair a Starfleet standard power inverter.

"And that is all you have to do?" Tom asked.

"Thank is all you have to do. Sometimes I think that Starfleet got a bad deal with these power inverters, they never seem to work right. Luckily I remember a few tricks my basic engineering professor taught me back at the academy.

"I wanted to join Starfleet when I was younger," Tom started. "That is all I wanted, I wanted to go out among the stars and explore. I wanted to meat new people. I wanted to learn, but then in high school I got into a bad group, and now I am here. I guess that my dream is lost forever."

Paulo had heard the story a hundred times, and Paulo replied the same way every time. "Your dream is only lost if you let it be. What you did was nothing compared to what I did, I am sure you can sign on as an enlisted man and if you can't there are plenty of private groups out there that you could join. Hell, you may even meet some alien race that the Federation has never encountered."

"Hopefully someone nicer then the Dominion."

"Agreed," Paulo replied as the two men stood up.

The power inverter was humming away again, and hopefully this time it you not crap out and die like it did after his last repair job. They walked along a path heading back to the main complex. Paulo would need to turn his tools in.

As they approached the the shed where Paulo needed to turn his tools in he noticed something wrong with the guard. He wasn't wearing a standard Starfleet uniform, for that matter the only thing that was even Starfleet about the man was the combadge he wore. The man looked familiar in a way. He was tall, much taller then Paulo was and skinner, much skinner. Almost like he was just skin and bones. He was pale with white hair and glowing red eyes. Then it hit Paulo and he felt the pain of his month of toucher all over again.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Paulo yelled as he jumped out of his desk chair. He looked around and found himself in his quarters. "What the hell is going on," Paulo asked himself. "Am I loosing it?" He paused a second as he considered his own question. "Maybe some sleep will do me good," he decided deciding he had just been working to hard over the last few days. Anyway he had a meeting with Ensign Saul Bental in the morning.

After cleaning up some Paulo climbed into bed hoping for a dreamless nights sleep.

"Part Of The Whole"

BACKPOST - The night before the warp stress tests.

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer

2nd Lieutenant Branwen London, Staff Psychologist: Marine Unit

****

Cargo Bay,
Deck 4,
USS Galaxy-A

Cass Henderson realied that he'd had a very full day.  It had started out simple, with him piloting the shuttle in to dock with the Galaxy.  However, it had rapidly overcomplicated itself, as he'd had to deliver Major T'Riasau to Captain M'Kantu.  Then there'd been the conversation with Rima, which had been awkward and draining.  Once he'd been able to slip away from Pennington, he'd spent time securing the cloaking device.

All of which left him very hungry.  Somewhere in there, he'd missed lunch. Thankfully he hadn't gotten the time to pick up Lysander, whose custody was now open to debate, from the couple who'd taken care of him during Cass' quest to find his erstwhile owner, so at least the cat wasn't hungry.

Left on his agenda for the day were only two things.  He needed to do some digging around with his old contacts and find out exactly who Major Sharien T'Riasau was.  He also needed to follow up on some sort of crew quarters reshuffle that he'd heard about from Ops.  From what Lieutenant Tarin had been able to tell him, it involved people not wanting to room with a marine, 2nd Lieutenant London.

"Henderson to London," he said, tapping his commbadge.  He grinned at the irony of a man of almost entirely British background having said what he just had, then changed directions.  He was now bound for Ten Forward, dinner, and some sort of resolution of whatever was going on with the junior officers. "Could you meet me in Ten Forward in fifteen minutes, Miss London?"

"Yes sir." She returned in a very thick Welsh accent. Bran was a little startled that such a senior officer was interrested in her. Couldn't be good. She had spotted his english accent straight away. Bran had been raised to hate aliens and englishmen and it was hard to banish her upbringing.

****

Ten Forward,
Deck 10,
USS Galaxy-A

Exactly fifteen minutes later she entered Ten Forward. It took her a few seconds to pick out the XO and she walked towards his table and came to attention. "2nd Leftenant London reporting as ordered, sir!" She tried not to sound too nervous.

"At ease, Miss London," Cass said, offering her the seat across from him with a gesture.  She was certainly a Marine.  It never failed to cause wonder at the extreme discipline that the SFMC worked under.  His recent experiences with T'Shani and Red Division had given him a little taste of it.  "Would you like something to drink or eat?"

"Some tea please, sir."  She said as she sat down, totally not at ease. Even though her own sister was an Executive Officer in the Navy, she herself had been trained thoroughly as a marine.  And you didn't drink tea casually with a Commander.

When the server had brought their orders, he turned to Branwen, "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted to talk to you, but before we get off on the wrong foot... Ahh, how to approach this.  I'm not totally unaware of cultural history.  But, I was born in space.  I've spent all of my life in space. Chances are, I'll meet an early end in space.  My family considers itself more Federation than English, and I have friends who grew up on Cardiff Bay."

"It's not your fault you are English, sir.  Most Welsh people have put the past behind them, just not the community I grew up in.  I was taught to hate all things English, even the castles on our soil built by King Edward."  She was amazed she had said so much.  A simple yes sir would have sufficed.

Cass sighed.  This wasn't exactly why he'd called her here, but he'd sooner not let it just drop.  "That's just the thing.  I'm not English, Miss London. And even if I were, it wouldn't matter.  We're talking about ancient history here. Welsh Independence, 2045, after the Eugenics Wars.  As for me, I was born on a starship, grew up in space, and had nothing to do with England.  My family have always been defenders of the Federation because we believe in things like equality and fellowship, the ideas the Federation was founded upon.  I've been there a grand total of five times, not counting my time at Starfleet Academy in London."

"I didn't mean anything, sir. I don't blame you, I was just saying I was raised that way, not that I still think that way myself."  She was very red in the face now.  Thinking she had annoyed the First Officer, very good start.

He nodded, "I wasn't suggesting that you were, Miss London.  I just wanted you to understand.  Try not to look so embarrassed.  Being who you are is nothing to be ashamed of.  On that note, I suppose we really should get back to the topic at hand...  It's been brought to my attention that you've been having some trouble with members of this crew.  Is that true?"

She blushed again.  "Most people have been very kind, sir.  I am already making friends."  If she got people into trouble they would hate her even more.  That she knew from experience, and besides marines didn't rat.

"That's not what I heard from Operations," he replied, then fixed her with his completely serious gaze.  He'd worked with Marines before, understood their motivations, cameraderie, and loyalties.  It was a long and proud tradition, but she needed to understand that he wasn't playing any games on this one. "Let me explain it to you this way: If we don't stop these problems now, then they're going to continue.  You can be assured, if they're because you're a marine, then they're going to continue.  Not only that, but they're going to happen to the rest of the SFMC Squad.  As the officer responsible for your team's mental health, can you in good conscience allow that to happen?"

Branwen was silent for a little while.  "No sir."  She then said.  "On the other hand, I understand people find me scary.  I am a marine and a shrink. Two things most naval personnel isn't fond of.  Honestly it's been a few stares in the hallway and one roommate who preferred somebody else.  I am a big girl sir.  I can take it." Yet there was some hurt in her eyes.

"Understandable.  I was never totally comfortable speaking at length with psychologists, but it's necessary.  Especially for high stress positions like the SFMC," Cass nodded and moved to stand, "Well, I suppose that's really all.    I'll be making a reminder to the department heads to brief their staff on the subject of being a unified crew.  I hope that prevents any further problems, but if it doesn't, don't hesistate to let me know."

"And for the record, you look like you've earned that bar to me.  You are a big girl, and I'll be interested to see the results of the SFMC Psychology Program's intial runs," he smiled, "You're blazing new trails, Miss London. Trails that need to be blazed.  I wish you the best of successes."

She blushed with happiness. "thank you sir, it means a lot to me that you support me." Branwen came to her feet.  "If you would excuse me now, I have to go back to work."

"Dismissed, Lieutenant," Henderson replied, "And good day."

"The Search For Reality"

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor/Second Officer
Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie,
Chief Flight Controller
Lieutenant Abaddon, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin, Chief of Astrophysics
Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara, Chief Operations Manager

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy-A

[Number One, begin long-range scans of the area. Search for a ship in distress or emitting inconsistent or troublesome warp signatures. Set course for it immediately.] Cassius Henderson watched Captain M'Kantu on the main viewscreen, issuing orders from Main Engineering. Behind him, Cass could just make out Lieutenant O'Shea shaking her head.

Suddenly, Cassius was in Tactical Analysis, lying underneath a computer terminal with a multitool in his hand... Until he realized that the hand was too feminine to be his own. He dropped the tool in utter shock, but wasn't able to investigate further before finding himself back on the main bridge, standing next to the command chair.

"Sir?" Cass said, slightly disoriented by the sudden shift of reality, "What just happened?" He glanced around at the members of the senior staff stationed on the bridge. Similar looks of confusion played across most of their faces.

[I'm not quite sure, Mr. Henderson, but let us hope we find that vessel and repair this space. Call a senior staff meeting immediately upon detecting the target.]

"Aye, sir," Henderson nodded, and the screen switched back to the starfield, M'Kantu having cut the transmission from his end. Turning to focus on the science station, Cass addressed the winged alien manning it. "Lieutenant Kara'nin, begin long range scans. Lieutenant Tarin, coordinate with him and boost power to the sensors. Mr. Abaddon, yellow alert, all hands to stations."

Iniara acknowledged the order with a brief nod, beginning to execute the necessary steps before the First Officer had finished speaking.

Cutter did not acknowledge Henderson. He was lost. He was on the bridge, where he was before, he remembered, but it seemed so long ago.  He thought, just  a moment ago, he was on a beach, yet here he was.  His eneviornment struck him then, the order from the first officer pushing him out of his daze. Slowly, his hands moved over the control panel, clearing the sensors and initiating the scans.

More or less in his own world, Jeremy had been dedicating enough brain capacity to keep the ship on course while the rest of his mind replayed the time on the holodeck earlier with Grey. She was an unpredictable one. He looked up at the image of the captain on the viewscreen for a moment, then blinked. The image changed...

"You are so beautiful," a tall naked man now standing in front of him said. The man smiled, then leaned in to kiss him...

"What the . . . ?" Jeremy said, shaking his head as if to snap out of a narcoleptic moment and rid his memory of rather distasteful experience at the same time. The next thing he knew, he was hearing the yellow alert claxon sounding all around.

"Mr. Savioe, are you alright?" Cass asked the helmsman, then turned back to sciences chief, "Keep me appraised of your sensor scans.  Anything they turn up, report."

"Uh . . . Fine, sir," Jeremy answered in a somewhat less than convincing tone.  ::Stay focused:: he told himself.  "Navigation control ready to accept coordinates from long-range sensor scans.  We'll be ready to go as soon as we find something."

"Deep breaths everyone," advised Karyn who herself looked green around the gills.  "I know it's going to sound silly, but try to remind yourself where you are by thinking about the sensations that keep you in the present...the yellow flashes, the beeps of the monitors, the feel of the console beneath your fingers and the carpet beneath your feet.  Hang onto these thoughts as best as you can so if you do get pulled into someone else's memory, you can physically ground yourself in the present."

"Counselor," Abaddon turned in her direction, "after a single event in which I relived.. ancient.. memories of my own, I have adapted to this psychic phenomena. I have not experienced anyone else's memories nor have I experienced any trans-conscious episodes. We may be able to harvest the adaptive data from my armor's nano-processors and see if there is anything there that we can use to combat the effects."

"Mr. Abaddon, Counselor Dallas.  Call replacements for yourselves and go explore that option.  Until they arrive, concentrate," Cass replied, trying to bring his command team to focus.  They were all unnerved, but they couldn't allow themselves to be distracted by navel gazing or thoughts, "Let's focus on the task. Sciences, how are the scans coming?"

It took a few more moments, but the Fruna'lin at the Sciences console eventually located what he thought was the inconsistent warp signal from the out of control freighter.

"Mr. Savoie, give me the best possible speed to the location that Lieutenant Kara'nin is sending to your station," the executive officer ordered, "As soon as you're ready, take us there, best possible speed. When we arrive, I want you to bring us parallel to the freighter and match speed."

Jeremy focused carefully on Henderson's words, following Counselor Dallas' advice to hold on to whatever immediate sensory perceptions he could.  "Aye, sir.  Coordinates received, course laid in.  Engaging engines at warp nine."

Silently Iniara worked at her console, transferring power to the engines in order to keep up with the increased speed.  She rechecked power to the sensors once they were underway, ensuring they would be at maximum range should the ship encounter any anomalies.

And then she was on her back.  Funny how she had such a talent for falling out of her chair at the worst times, even when things weren't falling to pieces or exploding in her face.  Her eyes focused on the starfighter that was occupying most of her view, its silver underbelly not more than a foot above her.  Slowly she reached up a hand, and was not overly surprised when she discovered it was blue.  Experimentally she touched the fighter's exposed access panel.

"Ow!"  Something sparked and she jerked her hand back in time to see a glossy drop of indigo blood appear on one finger.  Reflexively she stuck the finger in her mouth.  The blood tasted so real, but it wasn't hers; it couldn't be hers.  Whose perceptions were these?

It took them only a few minutes to cross the few light years that seperated them and the freighter. When they arrived and pulled alongside, the crew were faced with an image that they had not expected.

Within the freighter's warp bubble, the Antares-Class ship stretched and compressed, completely out of touch with the laws of physics.

Henderson grimaced, and called the senior staff meeting.

"Hotspot" - Part I

By
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor
Lt. Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Commander: Vanguard Squadron
Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie, Chief Helmsman
Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin, Chief of Astronomy and Physics
Lieutenant Doctor Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Abaddon, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief
Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
1st Lieutenant Autumn Hayes, Commander: Furies
Attaché Nyssa Alverez, First Contact Officer, Hazard Team Member

******************* Deck 1 Conference Lounge 1 *******************

Somewhere out off the starboard region of space adjacent to the Galaxy, there hung an object that was both elongating and condensing within its warp bubble. The Galaxy had taken up a parallel position to the drifting freighter that was an ever increasing danger to the sector of space and the realm which lay in dimensional overlay upon it. While awaiting the arrival of the senior staff, Daren had felt himself transition into at least three individuals indiscriminately and thankfully for short lengths of time. "This is going to push the crew to their limits, Number One. It is paramount we resolve this as quickly as possible. That freighter out there is the key." He tapped his chin in thought. He was eyeing his Chief Science Officer in particular who was intently staring at the back of his six fingered hand.

Henderson looked up, startled out of another moment when his consciousness wasn't in his own body. He shook his head, forcing the last of the alien thoughts from his mind. The last experience, a memory, had been the strangest yet. "I agree, completely. I think I may have just been Crewman Kravakri from Security. We're going to need some way to manipulate that freighter."

Abaddon stepped away from his console and moved to the conference room, moving the short distance to the conference room he entered and took his seat. He made eye-contact with several of the other Chiefs, a bag of mixed results from the staff. The Captain, at least, reacted the same way.

Klaus entered, nervous. He had never been in the conference room before as a Department Chief.

Next came Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, the security chief. His skin more pale than usual, he shambled into the meeting room. One of the more experienced people in the senior staff, James was also the wildcard and the maverick. He held only weak allegiances to any of the other staff members, thereby putting James in the position of being one of the most impartial. However, his mind was wandering after he had seen what happened to T'lan, his Vulcan deputy. He had no insight into the memory swaps beyond 'it was bad, get rid of them!'.

"Sorry sir." James apologized for his tossed together appearance and lack of sleep, "There was trouble with one of my staff. She had to be sent to sickbay."

Brianna came into the conference lounge and settled down into her seat, quietly and quickly. She made eye contact with Captain M'Kantu, but never said anything. Her mind was else where, thinking of answers as she knew questions would soon come to her.

Lieutenant Corran Rex tugged on the sleeves of his jacket, looking as though it was taking him a great deal of effort to focus on what was in front of him. Without of a word of greeting to anyone - unusual for the fairly personable Trill, he took his seat at the table, and tried not get lost in a swarm of memories once again.

Likewise, Lieutenant Savoie took a seat next to the Trill without saying a word. Meetings were necessary evils; the less said before or during, the quicker they were over.

Lieutenant' Tarin was already sitting in what she assumed was the proper position for the Operations Chief, reviewing various things on a pair of PADDs she had laid out in front of her. As this was the first senior staff meeting in her career she had arrived only shortly after the Captain and his First Officer, doing her best to make a good impression. And although she would never admit it to anyone, she was feeling a bit nervous about the whole thing.

As each senior officer arrived she looked up, nodding briefly in greeting to each one before resuming her study.

1st Lieutenant Autumn Hayes entered the room and moved to stand by one of the observation windows, her back against the stars. The Furies commander had no idea why she would be considered part of the 'in' crowd; most likely she was about to volunteer for something.

Nyssa arrived feeling very much like a fish out of water, her brown eyes meeting everyone's in the room as she lowered her head in greeting and moved to the furthest seat away on the conference table. She remembered receiving the command to come to the conference room for a senior staff meeting, something that had at the time surprised the living hell out of her.

She sat down and looked up the table seeing the captain and many of the other senior officers, it was a power meeting. Like many of those she had been to when she taught at the academy, this time she realized that she was the last here.

Lieutenant Dobryin entered the briefing and took her seat. As usual she was keeping her eyes open for anything that would interest the Intelligence community. Her job was to ensure Galaxy and her crew didn't stumble into a situation unprepared.

Cass turned his attention to Dobryin briefly, as she entered the room. Their respective ties and allegiances made their relationship a strange one.

Thankfully, it had yet to be an issue, as they more or less worked for the same people. Right now, though, Cassius only wanted to bring the Galaxy through the present crisis, and return her to a stable situation.

Karyn made her way into the conference room literally focusing all her energy on one fixed point in front of her as she moved to fight off the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. As the Chief Counselor, Karyn had people deal with a fair number of flashbacks, but switching back and forth into other people's memories? It was beyond comprehension. Of course, Dallas herself might have been better prepared were she herself not involved. So far the only thing worse than finding herself looking at the world through a man's eyes (a very..."sexually eager" man's eyes) was actually experiencing life through the eyes of one who could walk, one who could seemingly bounce from sitting to standing in the time it took to blink. The worse part was not having any control, and not knowing what was to come next. Things other people took for granted (running, for example) literally made Karyn disoriented and motion sick.

The normally cheerful counselor took her place beside Commander Henderson right away, reminding herself just to take some deep breaths and hang on for the ride. It wasn't the kind of advice she was happy giving disoriented crewmembers, but until they knew more, it was the only advice she could give.

Abaddon noted her state through his sensor palette and offered, "Counselor, after a single event in which I relived.. ancient.. memories of my own, I have adapted to this psychic phenomena. I have not experienced anyone else's memories nor have I experienced any trans-conscious episodes. We may be able to harvest the adaptive data from my armor's nano-processors and see if there is anything there that we can use to combat the effects."

Dallas took a look around the room and not for the first time was struck by the number of fresh faces. Normally, Karyn would just shrug her shoulders and grin wryly. Change was a part of life. Today it just made her feel old.

As the Chiefs arrived, Daren took stock at the changes in the personnel since he took command almost two years previous. This would be the first for many of the individuals here.

He himself took up his position at the head of the table, leaning his elbows on the glossy surface and focusing on each one as they took their spots.

"So what do we have for facts on this region of space, the freighter, and what we have to expect? Sciences?"

Cutter Kara'nin's eyes were darting back and forth over the room, not looking at anything in particular, as if he was not sure where he was. Then, suddenly he took a deep breath, let it half out in a false start before beginning his lecture. "As you know, when we go to 'warp,' we create an artificial Cochran field that pushes us into subspace, a, um, blanket term for 'outside of this physical universe.' This effect is temporary and energy intensive, not self sustaining."

"That ship," Cutter said, his eyes lifting to the window, "has, in a way we do not understand nor can even theorize about, created a, um, a sort of inverse warp field. It has pulled some element of subspace here and now, that ship, and an ever increasing volume of our universe around it exist both here and there simultaneously. Physical laws are beginning to change: a simple experiment conducted before this meeting showed a 27% increase in the mass of the charm quark. As you can see visually, the effects are worse on that ship.

"Even more amazingly, the effect seems to be self sustaining," the Fruna'lin continued. "All the scans we have been able to run suggest that there is no power feeding into the field. What serves as their warp core is still active, but all the energy seems to be radiating away, both in our universe and into subspace. If we cannot find a way to cancel this inversion, this fissure, its likely to reach a critical mass of sorts, our universe will globally snap to these new laws and we will cease to be."

"Hotspot" Part II

By
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor
Lt. Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Commander: Vanguard Squadron
Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie, Chief Helmsman
Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin, Chief of Astronomy and Physics
Lieutenant Doctor Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Abaddon, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief
Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
1st Lieutenant Autumn Hayes, Commander: Furies
Attaché Nyssa Alverez, First Contact Officer, Hazard Team Member

******************* Deck 1 Conference Lounge 1 *******************

"Is it possible to dock with the freighter in some form? Can we beam off the crew before this inversion kills them?"

Anna looked toward the captain. "I would advise against getting any closer then we already are Captain. The closer we get the greater the chance we ourselves will get stuck within their warp bubble. As for transporting them off, the only way that would be an option is if we can get some pattern enhancers over to the freighter. The way the ship is elongating and condensing within its warp bubble would make it impossible to get a transporter lock without pattern enhancers." Brianna stated.

"And if the subspace fields around it are that unstable," Savoie interjected, "precision maneuvers under those conditions would be next to impossible, especially with a ship as big as the Galaxy."

"Dr. Fienberg," M'Kantu cocked his head in the general direction of the new CMO, "What is the situation on the random memory and perception switching?"

Dr. Fienberg was still shaken by his own experiences. "Unknown, sir. All instances have happened at random during sleep... and there appears to be no neurological damage to any crew members I've tested, although there appears to be a slight change in different chemicals throughout the brain, mostly in the hypothalamus, and the sensory centers. It would appear that this is some sort of random side effect. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find a way to normalize everything permanently. I fear that if we don't find a way from 'them' to stop it, the change may be permanent, and will continue and possibly worsen."

"Not all, Doctor." Corran said quietly. "I may be the only one, but it's happened to me more than a few times while I was awake. Granted, I seem to be getting the memories just out of my own head."

Karyn shuddered. She feared even if the neurological effects weren't immediately devastating, the psychological impact was severe enough to debilitate the crew. She saw no reason to reveal that little happy gem immediately, however.

"Sirs, sorry to interrupt." James intervened, but dared to ask, "Is there a way to suppress or slow down the process? Lieutenant T'lan is in sickbay due to my recollection of Sector 001..." James halted in mid-sentence. The memories inadvertently placed in T'lan from James mind already sent his heart racing and his voice rasping. "I know that Vulcans are a mentally resilient species, but when a trauma hits them it hits them hard. This memory swapping may have some undue side effects, especially on psionically gifted alien species, as I have described with my Lieutenant. Anything would be helpful."

"I can personally confirm these side effects," Iniara interjected quietly. All day she had been hopping in and out of others' minds, and some of her experiences definitely did not bear repeating. Only now, with a great deal of concentration and tightening of her mental shields, was she able to focus long enough to make it through the meeting. "I'm currently at a loss for a solution, though."

It would seem," Karyn replied, "that no matter what we do to get ourselves out of this mess, we're going to need a better way to cope with this 'memory swapping' to guard against further neurological and psychological damage. I teach all my clients who experience trauma related flashbacks to use a technique known as 'grounding' to keep them aware of the present. I'm not sure how effective it will be given the sophistication of what we're up against, but it's worth a shot while medical works out a solution."

The situation was grim, indeed. The beings that requested the Galaxy crew's assistance in terminating the ills of the freighter had likely not foreseen the impediments of random psychological shifts they were all experiencing. They would need to tread carefully to complete this quest. Any errors in judgment could cost lives Daren was not willing to spend. His mind drifted back to his ex-wife's visage in the alternate dimension, as her face contorted in the wash of blood-tinted energy that devoured her lifeforce.

"Well, it would appear we are caught between a rock and a hard place, as the Terran saying goes. Thoughts? Ideas? Let's have it."

"We may be able to disrupt their warp bubble with a subspace pulse from the main deflector," Abaddon proposed, speaking up. "Normally I'd suggest a low yield quantum torpedo with a properly modulated subspace eruption but between our proximity and the desire to recover the crew, it has the least-probable chance of success with minimal loss of life."

"Loss of life isn't an option. This needs to be bloodless, and efficient. Wouldn't disrupting the warp field without due simulation of the effects generate a possibility of wearing or destroying the fabric of space between their dimension and ours? Anyone?"

James came up with a suggestion. "Transporter beacons, fitted to class three probes, and attuned to a narrow band subspace frequency, where the warp field is least likely to be distorted. The probes will have to be placed at exactly eighty three point nine four meters away from the ship, in an elliptical pattern. The number of probes needed will depend on the size of the vessel."

Using small tokens, drink glasses, a PADD and padd stylus pens, James Corgan made for himself and the senior staff a crude but effective diagram of the ship in question and the probe's placements.

"Assuming this is a common Antares class freighter, we will need fifteen probes. An engineering detail of three officers will be needed per probe, as well as the transporter signal strength enhancers used in ground operations to be stripped and refitted inside the probes. With the proper materials and personnel assigned, the task should be completed in one hour, fifty two minutes, thirty three seconds." He added while gasping for breath, "We will also need to re-enforce the pattern buffers to compensate for signal degradation. A shuttlecraft with transporter capability or a runabout can be fitted with extra pattern buffers for rescue operations, a task that will take fifteen minutes, forty seconds. The shuttlecraft or rescue runabout will aid in keeping the freighter crew's patterns intact while en route to the Galaxy's transporter room and... oh my god that was T'lan again, sir."

James Corgan sheepishly backed down under the gaze of bewildered crewmembers. "I only have basic engineering. This stuff is out of my league. Apparently she tried this in an academy simulation. Did what I just say make any sense, and does it have a chance of working?"

Rex raised an eyebrow at the Security Officer. "It's a good plan, Captain," he offered in an impressed tone. "My pilots can fly the runabouts, if sciences and engineering can put some people on the transporters. I'd do it myself, but I don't want to get sucked into my own head in the middle of a rescue op."

"Captain," Brianna said, interjecting. "The only way this plan will work is if we can get the freighter to lower its shields. If we do that time will be crucial as the rift will tear the freighter apart quickly. Once we get the people off, I think I've got way to seal the rift. Four well aimed photon torpedoes will seal the rift without sending radiation of a quantum torpedo into the parallel dimension." Anna informed, as she looked toward M'Kantu.

"I believe that we should determine if the rift is being caused by the warp field of the freighter or it is merely an effect of something else we do not yet know of," Abaddon added. "If the warp field is the problem then collapsing it with a resonant pulse will remove the effect that is holding the rift open with no radiation to affect the crew because the shields are in place. Even using torpedoes to collapse the warp field, if the shields are up they should block the radiation enough to prevent significant danger to the crew. Once the warp field is down, circumventing their shields is a simple matter." Abaddon slid a PADD to Brianna with the specs for the high-energy transporter technique that had been used on Starfleet vessels before to transport into and out of their shields.

"I don't know if torpedoes will work," Cutter countered. "The idea is sound, but a field *pulse* probably won't be enough, or if it is now, it won't be for much longer. You do want to disrupt the inversion, assuming it is something like the Cochran field we're familiar with, by creating some sort of interference field. For ship at warp, a torpedo explosion can create a strong enough pulse to disrupt the fields. I highly doubt this will enough to disrupt the fissure. We need something more sustained, something like the mines we encountered in Breen space. We need to be able to generate a sustained variable interference field, probably from within the fissure."

"Do you mean we have to do this on the freighter?" M'Kantu asked. Cutter swallowed and nodded.

Iniara had no desire to interrupt the flow of the meeting, so as the rest of the officers spoke, she tapped out a quick message on one of her PADDs: *IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO HELP T'LAN?* She didn't know precisely what she could do to help the Vulcan officer, but after seeing James' concern she felt she had to at least try. She then slid the PADD as unobtrusively as possible across the table to 'Commander Corgan before turning to her other PADD, continuing to take notes on anything that seemed relevant.

"Just one curious observation." Until now Autumn had preferred to remain silent. "My own experience with these memories seems to have been limited to the one person I had met since arriving and the person I was in close physical proximity to at the time." The golden-eyed woman shrugged her shoulders. For a moment she was about to expand on a theory but decided against it; marines were seldom taken seriously when the problem was an intellectual one.

Nyssa sat there listening to the conversation, she knew what they were talking about but some of it was simply over her head. But one thing was for sure, the ship needed to be neutralized, people saved and the universe saved from what ever was happening. It was while she was amusing herself with the simple aspects of the problem she got an idea, one that in theory could work.

"Sir's..." she stopped realizing she had just spoke and now all eyes were upon her she looked down for a split second and took a breath "The ship's power is self sustaining because of this connection to sub-space, so were not going to bring down the shields by shooting them. What we can do thou is push the ship into a nebula, one of those ones that stop shields working. Once the people are out we still have the problem that once it returns to normal space reality is going to go pear shape." she smiled "Why don't we flush the ship into a black hole, the gravity of a black hole contains everything that goes into it, including the energy from sub space" she looked up and realized that her explanation would more than likely cause a few laughs.

M'Kantu blinked at the Attaché officer and mildly considered what Curran's remark would be to the woman. The concept was not pleasant.

"No, Ms. Alvarez. Even I in my limited scientific knowledge can foresee the effect of a black hole being the anti-thesis of what is required. Even if there were a nebula in the area, which preliminary scans of the region have confirmed there is not. Regardless, of the idea, those shields need to come down as quickly as possible. Even debating the topic here brings it ever closer to degrading the membranes between dimensions. It is time we can ill afford to waste." His focus drew upon his Chief Engineer. "Is there any basis in the theory, though, Lieutenant?"

As the other senior staff members were engaged in planning, James found himself once again pushed aside, and all the more thankful for it. Being the centre of attention, much less while being enslaved to somebody else's recollections, tended to be a tad bit awkward.

The brief pause gave James the opportunity to glance at Iniara's note. He nondescriptly punched a brief message, sending the text to the PADD Iniara currently held.

The text flashed in amber, "Not sure. Talk after meeting." Iniara met Corgan’s eyes briefly and nodded once, then turned back to the meeting.

Brianna looked up from the PADD Abaddon slid over in her direction. "Captain, not sure that's a wise idea. If we risk using tractor beams or any means to move the ship we could risk making the tear bigger then it already is. We don't know what we are dealing with, we do something such as try to move the ship. We could make it worse." Anna interjected.

"Hotspot" Part III

By
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor
Lt. Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lieutenant Corran Rex, Commander: Vanguard Squadron
Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie, Chief Helmsman
Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin, Chief of Astronomy and Physics
Lieutenant Doctor Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Abaddon, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief
Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
1st Lieutenant Autumn Hayes, Commander: Furies
Attaché Nyssa Alverez, First Contact Officer, Hazard Team Member

******************* Deck 1 Conference Lounge 1 *******************

Daren steeped his fingers together as he drew his elbows up on the opaque tabletop, tapping his forefingers on his upper lip in thought.

Cora had been quiet so far shaken by her recent experiences. The whole memory swap thing didn't help anything. For now she was content just to listen to what the others had to say.

"I think it can be established," Cass replied to the commanding officer of the Furies, "That the memory affect if chaotic and random at best. Our CMO has reported that it only happens in sleep, so for some people that's true. However, as I experienced, and Lieutenant Rex also pointed out, people can be awake during the affect. I experienced a memory from Crewman Kravakri not fifteen minutes ago, and I only know him by his personnel jacket. However, the memory affect isn't our primary concern, and I'd have to concur with Doctor Fienberg's assessment that it's a side affect."

"But a serious one nevertheless," interjected Karyn. "I know our priority is rescuing the crew of the freighter, but I don't think I have to remind anyone here that not all the memories we've experienced are positive or harmless. Some of them are unequivocally traumatic, and my concern is the longer we're here and the closer we get to the freighter, the more debilitating the memory slips, for lack of a better word, will be. We run the risk of becoming continually trapped in a cycle of memories where recovering from them takes time we don't have. I have no idea what putting a team on that freighter will do to them psychologically, including whether these 'side effects' will be permanent."

Dallas knew risk was part of the game, but it was her job to present all of the risks. This swapping of memories was more than a mere annoyance.

"Actually, Counselor, I disagree. It should probably be pointed out, considering that it seems like all reality stands on what we do here, that getting the crew of that freighter out needs to be considered a secondary priority. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," he gave his own position, then continued, "You have a point, however, about the risk to our crew. In some cases, we're just going to have to run those risks. However, we should take any steps possible to prevent the team, our crew, and the crew of the freighter from coming to harm. That said, our time is limited, and we're going to have to put the survival of the universe first."

"There are risks in every option presented today. Lieutenant O'Shea, we're going to need to find a way to out a team onto that freighter."

Anna was thinking at light speed. "I think I've got something that would work." Brianna said, standing up and moving over to the wall unit to show her idea. "We send a refined burst from the starboard phaser array. Low powered, but micro-suppressed to punch a small hole into the shields. Just as the beam punches through, we pig back a transporter beam with a team over to the freighter with the supplies we'll need on that end." She said, then looked around the faces looking in her direction. "Captain, this is all theoretical, but I've simulated it several times. By my estimate the transporter chief will have about twelve seconds to get the team aboard before the shields close over again. We all know that it takes about ten seconds for transporters to act. So it's going to be close, and very difficult. It could very well be a one way trip to." Brianna said, "With permission I'd like to be apart of that team. You'll need a qualified engineer over there."

Karyn held her breath. She wasn't even sure the Captain would go for the idea, but if he did, she wanted to be on that team as well. Dallas had been sitting around feeling sorry for herself for far too long. If she was going to kill herself, it wasn't going to involve drinking herself to death, it was going to involve doing something that mattered.

"Captain, I'm inclined to agree with Lieutenant O'Shea. We'll need a qualified engineer over there, as well as medical, operations, and sciences personnel," Cass said, turning his head to face M'Kantu, "And I'd like to lead the team."

Cora shifted her attention to Galaxy's CO and XO. "A qualified Intel Officer could be useful. I'm willing to join the away team as well."

Daren tapped his fingers together lightly. He nodded to Henderson and Dobryin in acknowledgement of their placement.

"I don't much like the idea of using a transporter in this region of space. Are runabouts truly out of the question? If even to draw closer to the freighter, at the very least to closely monitor the fluctuations. I don't trust the warp effects in this region."

"I would feel much better sending a team by shuttle than by transporter," Iniara stated. "There are so many unknowns to account for in this situation, especially with all the anomalies Lt. Kara’nin has described. I’m not sure if the transporters would work, much less work properly. Who knows what could happen."

"All it would take is one unexpected fluctuation in that warp bubble or some other random energy spike and we're all down the toilet. That's what could happen," Savoie tersely observed. "I agree with her, Captain. There'll be plenty of risk in any case, but I'd trust a shuttle under those conditions before I'd bet any lives on transporters."

"Lieutenant Rex, assign your most trusted pilot to operate the runabout. Lieutenant Heloi would be my first choice. She can work alongside Lieutenant Kara'nin on board the freighter."

Nyssa looked up and spoke rather softly, "Captain I would like to volunteer for this mission."

Daren nodded at the diplomat. Perhaps her skills as both a Hazard Team member and diplomat in this contested area of space would be an advantage.

"It is unfortunate we do not have time in excess to investigate other options, but I have faith in your abilities to resolve our situation." His dark eyes passed over the grim, but serious faces of his Department Chiefs, and felt pride in their determination. How many of them had left their bodies to travel on astral winds at this moment was unidentifiable, yet he need not reiterate the seriousness of the events that lay out before them. Ka would lead them through whatever their gods had planned for them. And they would defy those plans if it didn't suit them. Of this, he was positive.

"You have a go. Prepare your teams immediately. Shut that warp core down if you can. If not, scuttle the ship any way possible. Dismissed."

<dunno if it should be a backpost...but happens before the "all hands" thing.....forgive the inconsistency of time....i'd say the time between when they came back and this post was...maybe 15 mins...maybe up to an hour.....so maybe the all hands wasn't announced till after most the crew was "back" ... does this really even matter?>

"Evasive Friends"

Ensign Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control Officer

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

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

With Nara's disappearance, Miramon had been pretty much lost for something to do, and had simply resigned himself to continuing these Memory Jumps, until he somehow managed to get himself out. He was kind of vague on that particular point, but he'd known absolutely nothing about what had been causing the jumps until Nara had informed him of the presence of some form of creature. Short of finding it and killing it, he wasn't all that sure as to what he ought to do.

He was beginning to wish Saul was here. The Intel officer generally knew what to do, or at the very least was usually ready to act, even if his actions weren't precisely the right ones, or, moreover, the ones likely not to get them into trouble. But in this instant, anything would be better than sitting here idly. Not that he'd been sitting there in any physical sense. These memory jumps were sometimes far more hectic than he cared for. Not long ago, he'd been back aboard the K'Lyn, under attack by a pirate cruiser, until they'd been chased off by a Federation Norway-class starship on patrol. That had not been fun.

He was sitting in his quarters on the Galaxy, and he recognized the ship from the point just after the Battle of Havras. The ship was in pieces and had started limping home with the Miranda and the rest of the 12th fleet in order to have both ships put into dock and given a significant overhaul. He remembered feeling exasperated at having nothing to do, and had left his quarters and started walking the corridors restlessly, trying to figure out something to do. At least, that was what he had done in his memory, and so he was sticking to that, but his thoughts were a lot different from when he had done this first time around.

As he approached the entrance to Ten Forward, which had been his intended destination, he felt and saw the memory dissolving - the ship was cleaner, and there were less people inside Ten Forward than had been after Havras. So he was on the Galaxy in a different memory, as though he was doing this again - walking into Ten Forward on the same ship in a different time. Where, or more importantly, when that was, he couldn't be sure. He decided it'd be better to find out all the same, and stepped into the large room, the double doors hissing open at his approach and shutting neatly behind him as he walked through.

"I thought you'd never show up!” boomed a cheerful, familiar voice. The Intelligence officer sat next to their regular table, rapidly consuming a bowl of yellow noodles.

Miramon blinked in confusion. The voice was Saul's, but this wasn't something he remembered. Although, of course he might have some memories he might not recall buried back in his subconscious. Looking slightly curious, he walked over to where Saul was sitting, nodding his head in greeting and taking a seat.

"I'm surprised I didn't visit any of your memories. Although I was on Bajor again, I think, in the Chief of OPS' memory.", Saul said, resting the fork on the table momentarily.

The Bajoran looked at Saul strangely at that. "Sorry, memories?" He knew what his friend was talking about, but this was a memory. A memory could not talk about a memory, and he was sure he'd have known if this had happened before. He'd not encountered Saul in any of his previous memories, so this wasn't a memory of a memory jump, he was certain. He peered carefully at Saul, then reached out and pinched him.

"Hey!" Saul slapped his hand instinctively. "That's assaulting a fellow officer!"

Miramon rubbed his hand with some chagrin, never once taking his eyes off Saul. The reaction was one he hadn't expected, but he wanted to check again. "Alright, tell me this - if you're a memory, how come I don't remember this conversation? That's a question you shouldn't be able to answer!"

Saul grinned broadly. "If to follow your logic, my esteemed colleague - if this conversation never existed, and a memory can't talk about a memory, then I'm not a memory! And that's the actual situation, my friend. I'm real, and I'm here. Do you recall a memory where all of us came into this alien forest clearing? That's when the dreams stopped... for most of us."

The Bajoran let that all sink in, then smiled. "The only memory I remember with any trees in it at all was with Nara, when she went sailing with you. Actually, I thought with was a memory. I remember walking down to Ten Forward after the Battle of Havras, and then I was walking in here and I switched memories again, or at least thought I did. You mean to say some of us were in that state longer than others?"

"Yes...” Saul said, gazing stoically at his noodles. "I don't think anyone is sure about this, but it looks we brought some of 'dreamland'... along with us. I have a briefing with Dobryin and the rest of the Intelligence department this afternoon and I expect things to clear up by then. At any rate, you're back in the real Galaxy now, my friend."

"Good. In that case...Bartender!" the Bajoran called to one of the people tending bar around the room, and waiting patiently while he came over. "I'd like a glass of Raspberry Iced Tea, and a warm bowl of chocolate sponge pudding with LOTS of extra sauce."

"So... you say you were in Nara's dream... how was she doing?"

"Well, let's just say we saw a lot of her memories I didn't really want to see. She's had a really brutal-looking past, and it certainly makes me glad of my past. How about you? What'd you see?"

Saul briefly told him, between one noodle to the other, about the long road. He told him of the raid on Bajor with Iniara, of seeing Nara as a young adult, of being a knight, being a ghost in a Deltan party, being a bartender in danger... only three things he omitted - the explosion at Nara's quarters, anything that had to do with Zan, and the end of the road.

As he finished, he inhaled deeply. "So I had quite an interesting day, you see."

The Bajoran smiled wryly. "It sounds like it, all in all." He paused for a moment, considering how he ought to approach the next subject on his 'agenda', now that he had one. He considered it, then shrugged and decided to take the outright approach. "Okay, what exactly is it between you and Nara? Is there something going on between you two? If not, should there be something going on?"

Saul was about to bring a generous amount of noodles into his gaping mouth, but gave it up as soon as he heard Miramon. He returned the noodles to the bowl, sighed, and leaned backwards.

"I don't know, Miramon, I just don't know." He confessed, "On one hand, she's like this 'Super zealous warrior and guardian of Sakaria'... on the other hand, she's beautiful, nice in her own special way, and if she's a Starfleet engineer then she's also smart. And I don't feel uneasy next to her - which I usually do next to women who look so pretty. And if that's not enough, there are certain... job issues which she doesn't know of yet but that might come between us. Add to that the fact that I never had a... serious girlfriend... and you've got yourself one lost Intelligence officer."

Miramon chuckled at that one. "Suddenly, you're erasing all my previous opinions of you. Now, the little incident with Tizarin was understandable, because she's got a good century or two on you. Nara, though? I wouldn't have said she was one to intimidate you, of all people."

"Define 'intimidate'. If I had to conduct a trade with her, I would've eaten her without salt. This is a whole different matter, a matter that is very complicated and which I admittedly have little experience in. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is, and I'm even less sure if I want to do it. And there's something else..."

"Well, maybe so. But look, you were with me on Bajor, and you achieved your aims without once flinching. You were at Havras, and you're here now. How in the hell can you be scared of one woman after all that? And what do you mean, there's something else, huh?"

"Remember I just told you about the Welsh girl which was hit by her father? The one me and Tizarin took for a ride?"

"Well, yeah, of course.” Saul left out most of the details about the abuse in Branwen's memory, but Miramon could read between the lines.

"Well..." Saul lowered his eyes, "I came to see her once it was all over, you see... and she's a real nice girl, and she regards me as a knight she was in love with throughout her childhood. Hell, Miramon, her second or third sentence to me was something like 'Perhaps we're meant to be together'."

Suddenly, Saul realized he said it very loudly. He sent a suspicious glance to both sides, and then whispered, "I'm just giving this conversation a top-secret-alpha-one-clearance. Need to know basis, none of this is going to leak - or ELSE..."

"Intel to the core, you are. But you know me. Other than Nara, the Captain, maybe our XO and the bridge crew of Beta shift, I’ve never said a word about any of the stuff you get up to with anybody." Miramon smiled in amusement at Saul. "But seriously, alright. What is it?"

Saul laughed bitterly at Miramon's comment. "Well, I like her too, what can I say? On Utrecht III we used to call such a situation 'wealthy merchant's troubles'... never thought I'll find myself in one. And I probably won't. Nara's going to hate me once the... job... issues will interfere, and Branwen is going to sober up and realize I'm not Sir mighty."

Miramon leaned over and tapped Saul gently on the shoulder. "Look here, buddy. There are some things more important than your job. Resolve your issues, whatever they are, then do something about this. You like her, so she comes first. Job comes later. We all signed up for our careers, but I'm sure there's got to be something more than that alone. Think on it."

"It's more complicated than this. Plus, I'm not sure who is 'her'..."

All of the sudden, Saul felt very stupid for sharing all this with the Bajoran flight control officer - he was acting like a teenage girl gossiping with friends about this crush or the other. He was a Starfleet Intelligence officer, for crying out loud, not some lost teen!

"Ah, forget about it." He added with despair.

Miramon smiled consolingly, as his food finally arrived. He took a sip of the iced tea, savoring the realism of the flavor and the sheer appetizing look of his dessert. Earlier, before they'd started jumping, he'd have wanted some real food, but right now all he felt like having something that, in itself, was just there for sheer sensual pleasure. And Hasperat didn’t quite cut it for him. He took a spoonful, and then looked over the table at Saul, who was looking more depressed by the moment. He put his spoon down and did his best to reverse his own feelings of sudden annoyance.

"You know, I hate to say it, but you need a vacation, Saul. Either that, or several long and boring sessions with a Counselor. But look at you, man. You've clearly got too much on your mind, and you have got to snap out of it. Relax a little."

Saul rolled his eyes. "I don't think it justifies running to a counselor's office, Miramon. You can't go whine to a shrink whenever you face a dilemma. And best-- OK, quick change of subject! -- all in all I strongly believe that this alliance between the Breen, T'KithKin and Hydrans will dissolve as soon as they realize that the Federation is not as crippled as it was when the war was over. Hello Nara!" Miramon looked at Saul suspiciously until he heard him call Nara's name out, so he turned around in his chair to see where he was looking at.

Nara walked into ten forward with a PADD in her hand, hoping to get back to her routine of trying new drinks and reading. The new drinks she had only started trying yesterday. Maybe it WAS the new drink that caused the horrible wearing time she'd had recently. She knew better. Before she could be further paranoid as to never drink anything out of the replicator again, she spotted familiar faces. She walked over to Miramon and Saul. "Nice to see you in reality, Miramon." Nara held out a hand.

"I'm real too..." Saul muttered.

Miramon took Nara's hand and gripped it firmly, a smile blossoming on his face as she sat down. "Hi, Nara. Nice to see you as you, for a change."

Nara looked at Saul. "You're physically here. In that sense, you are real." He's never given her a chance to know the real him, so how would she know if it were him or not. She refrained from saying that. Had they been alone, she may had spoken it. Maybe.

"Feeling philosophical after the bizarre day we all just had?” Saul smiled at her. "Can't blame you. I just asked Miramon about you a minute ago, in fact."

Nara didn't smile back. She looked at him a moment, "I wasn't trying to be philosophical. What were you asking him?" She became suspicious.

"I was asking him how you were doing after he told me you met in a memory after I left you." Saul said, putting an exaggerated emphasis on each word.

Nara frowned further if it were possible thinking back over everything, suddenly feeling fresh in her memory. She gulped and looked at Miramon, "How much did you tell him?"

Miramon smiled reassuringly. "Not all that much, Nara. Frankly, those are memories I'm not quite sure I want to delve into again. What was said between us remains between us. I just told him the basic gist of the fact that we'd met and so on. Relax."

Nara looked at Miramon apologetically. He really was a gentleman. "I can't." With that she looked at Saul sadly. Something was wrong and she wasn't sure what. She wanted to ask what he was up to, but he sure as well would be evasive about it, or flip out. She grinned thinking how fun it would be to see that.

"You aren't angry at me for leaving you at your home, I hope." Saul found himself saying to Nara. "The road was calling, I didn't have much choice."

She wasn't sure how she felt. That she could say, "I don't know. It's not about that really. It's that you never did explain about the bomb. I can find no other explanation other than you brought it. Don't try to blame the creature, it never altered memories. There was no bomb in that memory. It had to had come with you. The question is why? I put up with the evasiveness, hoping over time we really could be friends, but then a bomb goes off, one you likely brought, and I'm not sure what to think." That was the cards. All on the table. She looked at him seeing what he had to say for himself.

Saul glanced at Miramon. The Bajoran's expression said 'You didn't say anything about a bomb...', but perhaps it was only Saul's imagination. After all, he had no way of knowing that Nara already told Miramon about the bomb.

"Nara... it is possible that several memories were mixed up. I've seen bombs explode, more than once." Saul said. It was the truth. He had no way of knowing whether the bomb was the projection of the fact he was hired to kill the woman in front of him, or a remnant of a past experience, which somehow infiltrated the dream."

Nara didn't change her expression. She didn't buy it.

"As for the evasiveness..." Saul inhaled deeply, "That's just who I am. I think both you and Miramon know by now there is much in my private life that I would prefer to keep private. For what it's worth, I consider you a friend."

And perhaps something else, he added without words, biting his lower lip.

"I understand evasiveness as an Intelligence officer, even evasiveness of being a male, but there is something more. It's not telepathy; it's just obvious to me." She laughed, "It's almost as if you’re scared to be around me."

Her laugh faded as she looked down feeling hurt and confused by the paranoia about this. She sighed and looked into Saul's eyes. She almost whispered, "I just have to ask one thing. Even if we can't be the friends I'd like, can I trust you?" She'd like to get to know Saul more. She wanted to get behind the wall. She doubted he would let her in like that. Maybe at least he can be like a comrade in arms. Could she trust him with her life when it mattered?

"Yes." He answered flatly. This time, there was no room for hesitation. "You can trust me. All things aside, we are two Starfleet officers serving on the same ship. If we don't trust each other, our chances of survival are slim."

She was so tempted to use telepathy to tell if Saul was telling the truth. Instead she looked deep in his eyes. It didn't seem to satisfy her, but he seemed to be genuine. About trusting each other as Starfleet Officers anyway. "Of course." She answered just as flatly.

Miramon nodded at Saul's words, though he of course had more of an inside look into the situation than Nara did, since he understood what was preoccupying the human as opposed to Nara, who didn't, regardless of her suspicions. He smiled at the two of them, almost in amusement.

"You know, listening to you two can be really depressing. Lighten up a little, would you?"

Saul almost forgot Miramon was present, as the discussion heated. "You're right. I mean, we're back in the real world, on course to Trill, and everyone is safe. That's all that matters."

Nara sighed, "Sorry, Miramon." She sat back and tried to relax, "What have you been up to since coming back?"

The Bajoran laughed openly at that one. "Talk about a blatant change of subject."

Nara smiled, "You told us to lighten up." The smile seemed heavy, but she kept it on as she tensed. She was angry, she just wasn't sure why.

"Yeah, you're right about that. But you two are too tense. I mean, look at us here. I'm spectating in a semi-argument having just returned to what I would suppose you'd consider the real world. Not quite the celebration I had in mind, huh? And what is it between you two anyway? You know what they say about couples that argue."

Nara looked at Miramon, "What do they say? Couple? We're no..." She stopped talking not sure she wanted to say it. Well they weren't a couple. For some reason, she didn't want to sound like she didn't want to be. Did she though?

"I think I am even going to help you with that." Saul said, swallowing the final noodles. He stood up, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand. "I have enough work to keep me busy 'till 2383. We will talk later."

That last sentence was aimed at Nara. She was getting suspicious, and rightfully so. All Saul needed was to keep her at bay until they reach Trill... was it too much to ask?

Eyeing the two of them suspiciously, his expression wavering somewhere between concern for his friends and amusement over their clear embarrassment and the lack of obvious intent towards doing anything about it right now, Miramon cleared his throat just to try and alleviate tension with a small distraction.

He couldn't say he was surprised as Saul headed off and left him and Nara alone at the table. He was excellent at evading things he didn't want to talk about, and while he was probably right about having a lot of work to do, he knew fully well that he was avoiding the confrontation between him and the half-Betazoid officer for as long as possible.

What exactly were they waiting for?

Just as the door closed behind Saul, the yellow claxons came one. Nara arched an eyebrow at Miramon, "Looks like the captain doesn't like what just happened. I better get to Engineering." Nara stood and looked at him again, "Kind of glad for the distraction actually." She smiled and left.

"Focusing On The Future Is Hard When The Past Keeps Popping Up"

Nara rushed to Engineering. Her chief had gone. She turned to a fellow engineer, “What’s happening.”

The other Engineer looked at her, “You don’t know?”

Nara looked at her and smiled, “Of course I know we’ve been jumping around in memories, but what’s going on now?”

The girl seemed to be in a daze. Seemed for some people it was still not over. Nara gently grabbed her shoulder, “Meilie, come back.”

Meilie shook her head, “Huh?”

Nara took her hand away, “Focus on now. Are they having a senior staff meeting?”

Mei nodded, “There’s a ship caught in a warp bubble. Something about tearing space.” Mei looked around dazed again.

Nara sighed. She looked at the console Mei was working at, and turned her toward it, “Keep an eye on the warp signature. If you need something to keep your mind from wandering, talk to me about what you plan to do tomorrow.”

Mei and Nara usually worked side by side on their shift. Nara went to concentrate on her own work station. They were likely running sensors full blast. Nara had just finished the retrofit O’Shea had asked her a few days ago. She knew a little better how it worked and knew if need be, she could assist in any repairs or modifications to it.

Suddenly she was there, looking at the parts and studying them. She snapped out of it looking at the console again. It was still with her too. She sighed. A rip in space. Sure, that made sense. It still amazed her that anything could even rip space. She had to focus on the future to keep her mind away from the past.

“So Mei, what are you doing tomorrow? Mei?” Nara looked over and her co-worker was blank, so she touched her again. “Focus, remember? Don’t get lost in the past.”

Mei had tears forming. Nara could tell she was frustrated. Mei whimpered, “I don’t know why I keep being pulled back. Half the time it’s not even me! Just a minute ago I was on this planet on top of a cliff looking at kids pointing at me.”

Nara dropped her hands. It was HER memory. “Try not to think about it. Tell me your plans for tomorrow. Maybe that way we can keep the past out of our minds. By focusing on tomorrow.”

Mei nodded, “Kerwod and I have a date!”

Nara smiled as she turned to her console, “Tell me about it.” She listened to her daydreaming about what it would be like and suddenly she was describing their last date. Nara sighed, “No, don’t go there. I’ll talk about my plans.” Then she realized she didn’t have any. She decided to make some, “I’m going to go talk to Miramon about.” She stopped, “You know. How about 5 years from now. Let’s talk about that.”

That was more comfortable anyway. Nara smiled as Mei went on about how in 5 years she’ll be married with kids and describing how’d she decorate her house. Nara kept an eye on how the systems were doing. Someone on the bridge was allotting a lot of energy for warp and sensors. Without knowing what was going on at the bridge, Nara could tell it was serious. They were trying to find something…and fast.

((OOC: This is a bit of a back post. I'm sorry that it has taken this long to get out my introduction post, but I have a situation going on with another sim that is sucking out my will to sim and my desire to write. As soon as the situation clears up you can about bet I'll be a lot more active.))

"Realization"

Sharaiya

[the meeting between the Sonomaama and Captain M'Kantu]

Sharaiya floated before the captain with her mother and watched in amazement as the scenery about them changed and then shifted to something more stable. She knew somehow that they were in danger, but she didn't totally feel like she was in danger. Something felt off, and most of that vibe came from her mother.

~Mother, why are we in such danger with these new memories coming in?~

~Silence child, You still have yet much to learn about your people, and the memories are there for you to learn from if you'd take the time to live them.~ There was a distinct tone of disapproval in her tone as she looked over at Sharaiya's father.

~But, how do we know that this is the best life for us if we don't look about first?~ Sharaiya irrepressibly asked.

~Now, now. You know that you can not go asking questions like that. Remember what happened the last time? We are your parents, and have lived the memories. There is nothing that is the matter with how we live.~ Her father responded, both chiding her and reassuring her that the way they lived was the correct path.

~But have you SEEN how the other worlders live?! So many different memories and places! No one has the same memory as another! Even if they were at the same event in their time they don't see it the same. Why can't we do that?~ Sharaiya was quickly silenced by her now extremely disturbed and mortified parents as their daughter's comments were loud enough to have been overheard by some of the closer Sonomammans

Sharaiya glowed brighter in her silent frustration and anger before calming down and disappearing back to her home. She knew that her parents would know where she had gone, it was that way with each family. Each family was connected to each other. But strangely enough this connection did not make Sharaiya closer to her family or people, in her case it was driving her away from them. She had been bouncing, from one memory to the next, never staying in one place too long but she knew that these strangers did not belong in her world, yet she felt something very strong about them and knew that when they left and the rift was closed, she would never see them again, and her life would supposedly return to its previous unchanged state.

But that wasn't entirely the truth. Sharaiya knew that she would forever be different from her people for having taken the time to check out these people and their strange memories. She knew that she would never again be able to just quietly accept her lessons via the memories that her family chose for her from the memories that were handed down through her clan. No. She would be forever a part and that in and of itself made her realize that she could not stay with her family any longer. She needed some place to go, but the question now was, where?

"From One Problem to Another...Possibly"

Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control Officer

-----------

He watched as both Saul and then Nara walked out of Ten Forward, the former heading onto duty and the other in answer to the Yellow Alert status. Of course, he'd have to answer it himself, but since he wasn't on duty and the ship could only have on pilot, his basic reply was to head up to the Bridge to be ready to relieve whoever was on duty at the time, in case the ship should end up needing a replacement. After all, he was next on shift. All other officers would be returning to their quarters or duty stations if they had them.

As he stood up and quickly finished off his Iced Tea, leaving his dessert only half-finished since he didn't have time to polish that one off, he straightened his uniform and then put the glass down, pushing his chair backwards gently and then pushing it back under the table gently. Until the ship went to Red Alert, it was hardly a problem. He wasn't in a great hurry, since the usual reason for Yellow Alert was to bring the shields up and keep the ship prepared in case the situation turned into an emergency, which seemed rather abstracted from their current situation. Besides, his CO had swapped shifts with him, so he'd be on the Bridge anyway, so he'd handle things for a few minutes. Given that the ship was at Yellow Alert, everyone apart from Saul and Nara appeared as relaxed as was possible given all the memory jumping, though he noted how tired most of them seemed. It was fine for some, he supposed.

He nodded to the bartender that had served them earlier, then walked with a fluid gait out of the room. Even though he was 33 years of age, his Bajoran physiology allowed him much more fliudity of movement than was possible for a human, as a result of the developed bone structure of his limbs. And working on a Bajoran freighter for over 4 years had helped, since the ship was undermanned, overworked and in need of a significant amount of repairs. When one had to deal with pirates and bad equipment at every turn, you learned to be flexible both as a crewman and in a physical sense, as well.

His thoughts were mainly turned towards Saul and Nara for the moment. His Terran friend was in one hell of a mess, that was certain. Most men only had to worry about finding the right kind of partner, but Saul had one woman perhaps incorrectly infatuated with him as a result of the memory jumps, and another that liked him but he apparently had 'job complications' with, even though the two would rarely if ever have worked together. What he could be certain of was that Saul was hiding something, which admittedly wasn't anything new, where Miramon was concerned, but then everyone had something to hide from somebody. And in Intel, this was more than true, but this seemed different.

As for Nara, she was fiery, willful and could prove to be more than a handful for Saul. Not that this was a bad thing, because somebody needed to keep the man on his toes, but Nara was one of those people that could walk into a room and stop everyone talking simply because she wanted it to be so. And it was amazingly funny see Saul get so worked up when she walked in earlier in Ten Forward, or would have been, had it not at the same time being that much more saddening. Although it was certainly a novel approach.

He was a little disappointed that he'd not managed to see any of Saul's memories while they had been memory jumping, even if doing so was a complete annoyance. He'd ended up in his own, and in those of two complete strangers, but not one of his friend's. And from what Saul had said, they'd not jumped into each others, either. That was curious, to say the least, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. The major irony of the whole thing is that he'd somehow managed to get caught into the memories of one of the women that Saul was interested in. Maybe the Prophets had a sense of humour.

Stopping before the Turbolift that would take him up to the Bridge, he pressed the button beside it and waited patiently for it to arrive. On a day like this one, you could just imagine the sheer amount of people that'd be using it, especially since the ship was at Yellow Alert, which meant not only would the duty shift officers for Gamma shift be heading up to the Bridge, but so would all department heads stationed up there and any of the other auxiliaries needed to cover the stations in an emergency. He could only imagine what the Turbolift was gonna be like - and on a Galaxy class starship, it was gonna be one of the few places other than a Jeffries tube that was gonna get cramped.

He smiled and watched as the doors hissed open, a few people stepping off the lift, but the rest remaining in a pretty tight squeeze. Nobody said being an officer was comfortable...

"Destination, Bridge..."

Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations

Set approximately 2 minutes after "From One Problem to Another...Possibly."

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

The volume of personnel in the hallways increased steadily, a typical indicator of the impending shift change aboard the newly refitted Galaxy. Officers and non-comms alike became one with the controlled chaos, efficiently proceeding to their destinations.

Iniara found herself immersed in this chaos, observing just enough to avoid colliding with anyone, her mind occupied with more important matters. There had been so many personnel changes before the ship's relaunch, putting her whole department in a state of flux. And then there was Lt. Geluf, the source of some concern.Whatever had happened on that planet, it had definitely changed him. Not that the change was unexpected, certainly not after such a traumatic event; but Iniara couldn't help but feel it might cause him problems down the line.

So engrossed in her thoughts was Iniara that she barely noticed the turbolift doors swish open in front of her, and the slightly impatient passengers already contained within. Offering no apology she quickly stepped in, stating her destination to the computer. "Main Bridge."

The Turbolift was already crowded. Most of those in there were headed to the Crew Quarters, so the lift ended up making several stops on the way up. Though he was standing at the back, Miramon couldn't help but be amused at how everyone was rushing around now that the ship was back on its way, traveling the stars as it was designed for. It was as though these people had never seen a ship go to warp or something, so frenzied did things seem to be. And since Gamma Shift was about to start, that was doubly difficult to handle. Especially with the ship at Yellow Alert. Normally he'd have just been leaving the shift, since Beta shift was his to take, but he'd swapped and taken Alpha shift for Lieutenant Savoie in order that he could meet Saul for dinner, since the latter had wanted a word. Clearly gone out of the window, though.

The Bajoran was finally back in uniform, though his ear hurt where the traditional ear-cuff he'd been wearing back on Bajor had chafed against the skin. Since he rarely ever wore it these days, it wasn't as comfortable as it had been when he'd worn it pretty much all the time, which to his mind didn't feel right. Still, it was a uniform regulation, after all.

As the lift approached Deck 7, it stopped with an abrupt cessation of the hum every Starfleet officer was used to after spending a day or two aboard a starship, and the double doors of the Turbolift hissed neatly open, allowing the majority of those aboard to step off. The Bajoran grinned at that one. Residential Quarters, Enlisted Mess Hall and JO Quarters. About right.

"...containment fields...matter reclamation...lateral sensors...deflector." Iniara mumbled to herself, ticking items off on her fingers as she went, still all but oblivious to her surroundings. Several moments passed and she trailed off, dropping her counting hand to her side, finally realizing she wasn't alone in the turbolift. She looked over her shoulder, a tiny bit of red color creeping into her cheeks as she smiled weakly.

"Sorry. I don't normally talk to myself." Now she felt really stupid.

Miramon smiled, much as he had been doing ever since he'd started listening to what Tarin was saying quietly to herself. It was a curious habit he'd never got the hang of, talking to oneself, but it was one he'd always found more than humourous at times. Especially if you happened to catch your own senior officer at it.

"Not a problem. I'm doing pretty much the same, just quietly, in my head." he said as his grin faded slightly, since he didn't wish to overstate the woman's embarrassment. After all, she was at least part Bajoran herself, by the nose ridge.

"Helps me to remember what I've got going on today. At least on Gamma Shift," she explained, turning so her back was no longer to the man. "You're Ensign Terrik, right? From back on the Valkyrie?"

Miramon nodded, somewhat amused, since she couldn't at that point address him according to the Bajoran custom of addressing him by his first name (since Bajorans reversed the order of names to surname followed by birth name) given that he had reversed this himself for general use, in human fashion. "Right. And you're Lieutenant Tarin, of course. Feels good to be back home, doesn't it?"

"Home." She let the word hang in the air for a second before shaking her head and smiling. "Never thought of this place as home before. I suppose it's as good a place as any, though. Could be a lot worse." Now she was just rambling, musing more to herself than anything.

The male Bajoran nodded. "Well, you spend more time here than on Bajor, I dare say."

"That's not the only reason to consider a place home, though. I spend more time on the Bridge now than I do in any other part of the ship including my quarters, but were I to call it my home I think someone might say I needed to see a counselor." She paused, smiling mischievously. "Semantics can be quite fun at times."

Miramon nodded, a slight grin curling his features. "And I suppose as an Ops officer, you do that for a living, right? We lose EPS Conduits, you suggest a momentary glitch in the power systems, and so on."

"We say 'temporary fluctuations in the environmental controls', when we really mean 'life support systems failure'. I believe you have uncovered our most guarded secret."

He chuckled at that one, shaking his head in amusement. "Sure. Hence why you just told me the rest of it." His smile disappeared slightly, but his expression was still friendly. "So, did you get any time down on Bajor?"

"I think the mission itself classified as downtime. Maybe. Well, after our little jaunt to Havras, just about anything could be considered downtime. But yes, I did get to spend a little time planet-side. Most of the people I knew on Bajor are either dead or have since left, so it was a short trip. Nothing too eventful. How about you?"

"Well, Saul, that is, Ensign Bental and I dropped in on my parents, then went did some recon later. All, uh, boring, really. You know how it is."

"Recon, huh? Did Commander Henderson have you doing some extracurricular work, or was this a personal project?"

Miramon smiled. "It was a mixture of both, really. We followed up on something Saul wanted to do first, and then later we were sent to investigate an attack by Hydrans on a Bajoran village. Not a pretty site, I am afraid." He was clearly about to say more when the turbolift stopped and the doors hissed open to reveal the layout of the ship's Bridge, awaiting their entry, as indeed were the officers the two were to be replacing.

"Oh, well, here we go again, Lieutenant."

"Indeed," Iniara replied, exiting the turbolift. "What perils await Gamma shift today, only time will tell."

"Your fault for taking a command position on Ops." the other Bajoran said, smiling lightly as he followed her.

(this is being sent to both Miranda and Galaxy because I have characters on both that this post ties into both their personal arcs.)

“Peace Talks”

LOCATION: Sakaria

The sun was shining into the large deliberation room. An oval table was surrounded by nine people. On one side were five men and four women from the Rebel Group. On the other side were five women and four men from the Unified Peace Force. At one end of the table, closest to the door, sat the male leader of the Rebel Group, Jeris Tapoi. The leader of the Peace Force, Gary Roswell, paced the room.

An exasperated growl came from Jeris, “Why can we not simply section out the land!? Let us each govern who we conquer.”

A woman on the other side spoke, “Sakaria has always been unified. If we do not have unity, we will fail.”

Jeris stood, “Fail at WHAT? We are a planet among ourselves. You won’t let us join the Federation…”

Gary stopped and gave Jeris a look that made the elder sit. Over the months, it was all it took. No words were needed from this man who held authority. “I’m a member of Starfleet as well as a Sakarian citizen, so know I don’t speak out of partiality. We have proven we can defend ourselves. No one has much interest in us. We are in a neutral zone. Joining the Federation would only obligate us to fight in other’s wars.”

A man on Jeris side said, “And what’s wrong with that?”

With that came a roar of talking from both sides. Gary pinched the bridge of his nose as the tension headache reared its ugly head. The conversation always went in circles. He spoke loudly, “The problem!” His booming voice caused the others to be silent and he continued in a normal tone, “The problem is that we stand alone and we fight our own battles. Joining other’s fights simply makes us a target.”

Another peace force member added, “We are all tired of the fighting. Why do you want to make this planet into a war zone by wanting to conquer? Can’t we just be unified under one leader and leave it at that?”

Jeris sighed, “Then give each district its own leaders with the ability to create our own laws.”

A woman on Jeris’ side added, “With a guideline of course.”

Jeris gave her a look indicating he did not want that term included.

Gary had had enough. Months of this. Months of arguing over the same facts. He slammed his hands down on the table, “ENOUGH! Men and women are fighting out there! They are DYING. Why? Because we are greedy! We want power!”

Everyone stared at him. Gary had been so calm for all these months, keeping everything in order and keeping everything from being too chaotic. He abruptly left the room and the room sat there in a stunned silence before suddenly going into another screaming match. The voices could be heard through the door as Gary shook his head and walked down the corridor to his temporary quarters.

He switched the computer on. He hadn’t checked messages in days. He took a painkiller and the screen showed several messages. He immediately opened the one from his wife, Allas. She had been transferred to the USS Miranda. He sighed. He didn’t understand why she just couldn’t stay here. Of course, he wouldn’t have been able to see her. He didn’t like the idea of her on a starship though. His gentle, kind Allas.

Nara on the other hand, while he worried about her as well, knew she could fight her way out of almost anything. He just hoped her arrogance had faded some. Nara wasn’t as good as sending notes. Last he heard, the USS Galaxy was on the way to Trill.

He turned the computer off and took a last swig of water before saying to himself, “Ok you mules, let’s continue the pointless bicker till we all die and there’s nothing to fight for.” When he entered the room, they fell silent and he again went over the list from the Rebel Group, hoping against odds there could be SOME compromise.

"World without Logos"

Ensign Andrei Vronsky, Medical Officer.

::Ensign Vronsky's quarters::

Andrei Vronsky hissed as he came to himself again, kneeling on the floor. That had to have been one of the most vivid dreams he had ever had. He shook his head, looking at the floor. He had paint on his hands, but instead of using the canvas or even paper, he had been painting on the floor. And he couldn't recall doing it. He swallowed, looking at his hands. Red paint. Red and black pain on his hands and beneath his fingernails. He glanced at the time, his eyes widening. His shift was starting in a few minutes.

He got up, walking to the bathroom and grabbing the soap, trying to wash his hands. All he could remember were...old memories. Old memories that now were vivid and alive in his head and his emotions shook with them.

Like the feeling of seeing his mother's painting hanging on the wall of the art gallery, with her name and her biography beside it.

He had felt disgust and fear, because he did things like that. It could have been his own painting.

He looked down at his hands, seeing the water pink but the paint still there. He grimaced, rubbing harder, turning the heat of the water up. More colour, yet it was still on his hands. And he had to go to duty soon, he couldn't show up with paint on his hands. It would be wrong. That part of his life was never meant to be there, he was never meant to mix those two things. He got a rough brush and started rubbing at his skin, his breathing growing heavier as tears welled up in his eyes.

His stepfather grabbing him, shoving him towards the door. Towards the stranger standing there with serious eyes and worry, yet no love. The cuff he got as a parting from the man he had thought his father, to be told that the man before him was his true father. The feeling of abandonment...

He grimaced suddenly as the brush scraped away skin and he pulled his hand back. The paint was gone and had most likely been gone for a while now. What was left was skin that had been brushed red. By the fingers the skin was scraped raw, at the back of his palm he was bleeding. It hurt. It hurt as much as the memories, and he frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. A madman.

He was losing it. He had to be losing it. How could a sane person do this, or claim to be sane after painting on a floor, recalling something from years ago?

He washed his hands in cold water before patting them dry, glad to see the bleeding had stopped. He'd get in uniform, put on a pair of gloves or something and get to duty. And hope that whatever this was would pass, and that he wasn't losing it.

But maybe it was the ship that was fucked up and not him? That was a hope to cling onto, to cherish and pray to. A lot better than any other suggestion he had at the moment. He got dressed with a frown and took a pair of thin black gloves to wear. They were skin-tight and thin enough not to hinder his work, yet protected the skin.

Okay, so he had done this a couple of times before.

He sighed and stepped out of his quarters, chin held high as he hoped against hope that he was not losing his mind.

"To Protect, And To Serve"

Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea Chief Engineer - Liaison to Starfleet Corp of Engineers

Unaurie Quyve Civilian Specialist, Starfleet Corp of Engineers

Unaurie heard the page requesting she report to the shuttlebay and was alarmed. What could be happening that would require her presence there? She was only a civilian, after all, and really more of a scientific advisor than anything else. Before heading for the shuttle bay, she decided to stick her head into Lieutenant O'Shea's office to make certain she'd heard everything correctly.

"Do you have a moment?" Unaurie asked.

Brianna was making some last minute notes for Ella, since she was leaving her in command of engineering. She was after all the second in command of engineering. Her thoughts though was it stupid idea to take the shuttle, it was more risky then using the transporter. With the transporter there was a measure of safety protocols that could be engaged. When a explodes, that's it.

When she heard Unaurie's voice, she looked up and gestured for her to come in.

"I was wondering about the request to go down to shuttlebay," the Deltan woman asked. She looked particularly peekid.

"I need help, Unaurie." Anna said, at a quickened pace as she wrote the last note.

Unaurie frowned. "Isn't it a little unusual to send civilians on dangerous away missions?" she asked, skirting around giving an outright 'hell, no' response. It was a polite way of allowing the Lieutenant time to reconsider her request. Unaurie was a civilian. By all rights, they had no business sending her out there. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Anna looked over. "The people that is good here, I want to remain here. Which isn't that many. Ella, I trust. The others could use some refinement. Your good, because we have worked together before with S.C.E."

Unaurie frowned more deeply. " I have strong reservations about this, Lieutenant O'Shea, but I will help as much as I'm able. There are a few things you need to know, however. I'm a strict pacifist. It's one of the reasons I cannot, in good conscience, join Starfleet.. I won't use a weapon of any kind. I won't take the life of any sentient being for any reason."

"I have strong reservations about using a shuttle, but that's out of my hands now. Now we just get tossed into the mix and fix it. Course that normally what we engineers do." Anna replied, then as if a wave came over her she took a slight breath images flashed in her mind.

She was standing there holding a bloody rock in her hand. Looking past the rock, there was a Cardassian patrol laying on the ground bleeding and clearly had been killed. Brianna felt confused, and at the same time fear, anger and even pain. When she looked up from the Cardassion bodies there was a large Vulcan male standing there with a sadistic smile, gloating over what had just happened.

Unaurie felt the other woman's memories and no matter how she tried to distance herself from the experience, they hurt the Deltan woman. She'd she told her dad, a large red haired man with a beard, that she signed up to be a Starfleet engineer. He'd laughed in her face.

"Ye'll never make it as an engineer. Ye just dinna have the knack," he told her, "Ye'll never measure up. Why do ye even bother, girl? Do ye want to dishonor the family line. Is that it?"

Unaurie felt the urge cave the man's skull in with a rock. It felt justified. The Deltan woman closed her eyes and shook her head.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms as hard as she could. She had to focus now. She focused on the pain, not because she liked it, though she knew of some Deltans that did get into that sort of overwhelming sensation, but because it forced her into the here and now.

The here and now was not a pleasant place. Her stomach lurched hard again, flopping inside her and she turned a dreadful shade of green. She fought to control her voice as she spoke.

"I won't use a phaser," Unaurie restated. "That's not part of getting thrown into the mix and fixing things. I'll grab my kit and then I'll go down to the shuttle."

"You won't have to worry about that, you'll be working beside me." Anna said, if she had to she'd die protecting Unaurie's life. "If there's nothing more, get your things and meet me in the shuttle bay." Anna said, as she moved to put her mug in the replciator while trying not to think about the memories she just had encountered.

The Deltan woman left the room.

"The Interview"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo

Ensign Saul Bental

Saul strode into the Intelligence center. He didn't slow his pace since he dashed out of ten forward, and still had the irrational feeling that Nara is following him, just to corner him in some dark part of the Galaxy and confront him.

Time. He needed time. Right now, that would be achieved by concentrating on work. Problem is, while some of the Intelligence department members had immediate assignments due to the current situation, Saul only had long-term and analysis assignments for the time being.

He decided to start with the interviews for the Secondary unit. He postponed it long enough, and it was something he could easily stop in the middle should a crisis arise.

He tapped on the shoulder of one of the NCOs, and asked the man to come to his office.

* * * *

Saul scowled as he saw the next name on the list. It was probably the name he was most uneasy with. Ensign Paulo DiMillo was one of the few Intel personnel which were on board before Havras. The bulk of the department was replaced since many died or were severely injured when the Intelligence CIC was directly hit during the battle.

There was another problem, one which troubled Saul even before the interview. The man in front of him just returned form six months 'visit' at a penal colony. He spoke with Dobryin about it, but her response was firm - DiMillo was back, he was part of the crew, and there was no room for objections.

At least not loud ones.

"Come in, Ensign DiMillo."

Paulo entered. He wasn't to happy about having to meet this Ensign Bental, especially as they were the same rank and he found it insulting that he had to report to him at all. The man wasn't even listed as the Assistant Chief, and for that matter no one was currently. As far as he knew after he went back to SFI Cora had never replaced him as Assistant Chief. He knew that Bental was up for the job, and he currently did not care about it. He was here to do a job, and that job was to protect the Federation even if some people in SFI didn't want him to.

"I'll get straight to the point." Saul said before Paulo finished to sit down. "Lieutenant Dobryin decided to establish a secondary Intelligence unit, codenamed 'Lily squad'. It will be used both for backup for the primary unit, and as a second pair of eyes. The first task the squad was given was to look over at all the information we have about the battle of Havras and the three powers behind it, and seek the critical detail everyone else is missing - because there's always such a detail. The team will include two members other than myself. Right now I'm interested to hear a little about you, and to ask you if you'll be interested in joining the secondary unit."

That was a long one, Saul thought, while inhaling deeply. It was the third time he gave that speech already, and he could already finish it without mixing up like in the first couple of times.

Paulo did not have to be Betazoid to feel the tension that this man emanated. From the moment he spoke "I'll" Paulo knew there was going to be a problem with this man, but for Cora's sake he was going to at least try to work it out.

He respected her as she was one of the few that supported him. He had worked with her before and let her step up into the position of Chief Intelligence Officer even though the Captain had asked him first.

After a moment of deciding what to say Paulo finally responded.

"fine with me," is all Paulo said. He wasn't in the mood to talk to this man any more then he needed to, and to interview for his own job was insulting. "Though I don't know exactly what happened I have been looking through all the records from the command staff and SFI reports."

"You mean the chain of events that took place while you were away?" Saul asked.

"Though it may be hard to believe, I am good at what I do. I know my way around a report and how to get through all the B.S. and where to get all the information I need. I may not have any respect on this ship from you or any other Intel Officer I do, do my job, if you like it or not."

"I accept that. Basically, the Breen invited us for diplomatic negotiations, then backstabbed us. We - the Galaxy and the USS Miranda - found ourselves fighting for our lives in the Havras system against the combined fleet of the Breen, Hydrans and T'KithKin, and only the timely arrival of reinforcements - and the removal of a mine field previously - saved us from turning into cosmic dust. After that, three months of refit, and here we are. I assume most of that is old new for you."

"So the reports stated."

"I didn't think I have much to renew." Saul shrugged his shoulders. "So... tell me a little about yourself... background, specialties, interests..."

"I don't think there is much to say. Its all in my service record, that I am sure you have read, as I know I have gone through yours and all the other new Intelligence Officers on this ship," Paulo replied. "Other then that, you have to be on a more personal level, a level that I only go with friends or better."

Paulo really had no time for this. He was still behind in some of the reports he was going through, and with all the odd happenings on the ship it wasn't making it much easer. He kept getting flashes, not from his own memories but from others. He had no idea who some of the people in these "memory flashes" where. He knew their face but that was it. And besides, it had taken him twice as long to get the clearance he needed, only thanks to Cora who had helped a ton to get his clearance at a level where he could be useful.

Saul could sense the impatience of the man in front of him. In fact, if the roles were opposite, he would probably be equally eager to leave and finish this conversation.

"That's your call. In that case, Paulo, thank you for your time, and I'm looking forward to work with you in the future." Saul said, his face shifting into the poker face every good merchant had. As he extended his arm, he decided not to ask this man for the secondary unit. If Cora wants him, well, Saul was certainly not going to stand in the way.

Paulo did not take his hand.

"This was a formality, I am guessing," Paulo said. "Either Cora told you I was on the team, if you like it or not, or it was up to you. If you were ordered I say lets get our differences out of the way right now and do our job. It may be hard to believe, but I do intend on working for the Federation and keeping it safe, even if you or another SFI member stands in my way. If Cora gave you the choice then you have decided before this meeting that I would not be on the team. If that was the case I take my leave." Paulo then turned and started to leave. He would talk to Cora later.

Saul waited until Paulo left before he turned to his desk's console. Paulo was right, of course – Saul was given a free hand by Cora in ranking the possible candidates, and he knew from the beginning he wasn't going to recruit a convicted man who returned only thanks to 'protection'. Saul had to interview him in order to make it appear as though there's no prejudice, and so he did – not because Cora ordered him to, but because it only seemed appropriate. And perhaps the man could surprise him.

Well, he didn't. Good Intel. Officer or not, Paulo DiMillo had a rotten attitude that Saul didn't intend to put up with.

The easiest part of the interview was the final one, as Saul deleted Paulo's name from the list of potential candidates, and hailed the next Intelligence officer, asking her to come into the office.

To: Legate Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison USS Galaxy
CC: Captain Daren Runako M'Kantu, Captain USS Galaxy
CC: Admiral S'vak, Starfleet Corps of Engineers, Research and Design
BCC: Ambassador Sa'awek of Vulcan, Federation Liaison to Cardassia, Bajoran Embassy, Bajor.

Re: Inappropriate Requests Made by Starfleet Officers Regarding use of Civilian Contractors Aboard Working Starfleet Vessels.

Dear Legate Curran,

Please consider this a formal complaint in the matter of a veiled order given by Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea for me to join an "Away Team" to help a civilian freighter in distress. As I do not feel comfortable in my ability to successfully decline the request, I feel that it is an order. I also believe it is completely inappropriate given the nature of my contract with the Corps of Engineers and the nature of my duties pursuant of that contract aboard the USS Galaxy.

I'm a theoretical design engineer who was hired design and implement new FTL Drive Systems (Project November: System Details Classified: Please Contact Admiral S'vak for clearance and authorization) aboard the USS Galaxy as an "in service" stress testing platform for those systems. Beaming over to a civilian freighter in distress to help fix their warp drive does not, in my opinion, fall within the parameters of that assignment. I have stated my misgivings about the situation to Lieutenant O'Shea and believe I gave her ample opportunity to recind the 'request,' however she told me that we just get tossed into the mix and fix it, as if I were simply one of her subordinate officers and not a civilian contractor.

Even this "away mission" did fall within the realm of my duties aboard the Galaxy, the circumstances of this "Away Mission" would warrant a formal complaint anyway, for the extreme dangers to my person. According to the briefing I have received, the Galaxy has not been able to make positive contact with the freighter to verify the exact nature of it's emergency. The briefing states that the exact nature of the cargo and the crew are unknown. (Please refer to the attached "mission briefing" for details, or more specifically in this case, the lack of details.) It seems to be experiencing some sort of warp inversion and Radiation readings also fall more than anomalously outside of safety levels, even assuming that warp inversion is the correct diagnosis of the problem on the distressed freighter.

Reaching the freighter involves a great deal of risk: My safety in reaching the vessel cannot be assured via either of the proposed methods of breaching the warp inversion, neither can my safety once we reach the vessel as all contact from the distressed freighter has been garbled.

I am not trained for hostile or combat situations as it is against my religious and moral beliefs to participate in such things, as is stated in the briefing provided to the Captain about the nature of my stay aboard the Galaxy. Neither am I trained for diplomatic or first contact situations, as my line of scientific research does not require such training. In short, I am not enlisted in Starfleet in any way. I am civilian hired by the Corps of Engineers to do a specific job. Any of these situations is a possibility on any "away mission," but when going in completely blind, there's no way to know exactly what to expect. Taking a civilian into a blind situation is irresponsible at best. At worst, I hesitate to put words on what it could be called, though reckless certainly comes to mind.

I want to be as helpful and cooperative as possible to the crew of the USS Galaxy, because it is important to the overall success of Project November. That stated, it is against my personal better judgment to undertake this "away mission." I am only doing so under heavy protest and because I do not feel that I will be allowed to decline this mission. I expect that Starfleet Command will take full responsibility for compensating my family in the event of some accident.

It is my sincere hope that I will come back from this situation alive and able to discuss the matter with you more fully. If I do not, I expect that you will take the appropriate steps on my behalf.

Sincerely,

Unaurie Quyve, PhD

"What's a Memory Swap between Enemies, part two"

(backpost)

Primary Characters:

Lt. Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelienia

****

Nearly there, Ella thought with exhaustion. Maintaining happy thoughts was a pain in the ass. Especially when you were remembering someone else's sweet sixteen, another person's memory of snowboarding- she had almost walked into the wall a few times with that one- and yet another memory, this one of a bad experience with a dog.

A few steps away and then...

Shit, Ella thought. It was the bitch.

Ella shook her head at Angelienia as she made her way for the door. There was no way she wanted to argue with Victor. Especially, if such argument was going to bring up any memories of him that Lt. Angie might have. Two steps, three... And then she was no longer in a corridor at all, but a cave, the dry, dusty smell almost identical to the smell of the one she'd dwelled in while marooned.

****

"Delion?" Angelienia's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she moved through the darkness. Her clothing, once a stylish and slinky dress the same green as her eyes, was torn and scorched, as if she'd escaped a structure fire, and her hair was a tangled mat. She lifted the weapon she carried - a Starfleet-Issue Phaser 2, one of the older models from before the War - and took another few hesitant steps. "Delion? Are you there? I think I got them all..."

****

Ella looked at her hand, trying to shake the memory of holding a phaser.

Probably would have been tempted to use it on Angie if she had it. Since she had lost her computer PADD long ago, she waved away the woman. She didn't want any memories and she already had her own about caves.

****

Angelienia frowned and shook her head, apparently dismissing Ella as something she'd seen in the dark. "Delion?" she whispered again. "Where are you dear one?" She took a few steps and paused as a soft sound came from to her left. "Delion?"

She moved quickly, bare feet silent on the sand, and crouched down next to a deep shadow. Delion?" she whispered, her voice growing more panicked. "Dear one, is that you?"

Another soft sound emerged from the shadow and something stirred within it. "Angeli?" a small voice emerged.

****

Ella tilted her head. Angeli?

****

"Delion!" The word was torn from the Ktarian woman rather than spoken, and she dropped the phaser to reach out and gather up the figure in shadows - a small Ktarian boy, not yet into adolescence, his face burned and clothes bearing the mark of a grazing hit from an energy weapon of some sort.

"Delion!"

The boy coughed once and raised a good hand to Angelienia's face. "Angeli?" he whispered weakly. "I ran as fast as I could, but they... I'm sorry Angeli."

"No, shhhh...." Angelienia whispered desperately. "I'm not mad, Delion, never mad, not at you. You're all I have now; we're all we have now. I never thought we'd be in danger on Betazed... I never thought...."

Delion made a face and whimpered. "It hurts, Angeli."

"I know, dear one, but you have to stay here with me," Angelienia told him, tears starting to fall down her face. "I need you to stay with me." She drew him closer. "I need you," she repeated. "I don't think I can do this without you. I think...."

Behind her, from the darkness, a shimmer ran through the air as a Jem Hadar soldier deactivated its cloak and started to step forward.

****

Ella looked in horror at her. "Stop thinking" she mouthed at her. She wanted to remain blissfully unaware that the other woman didn't have normal feelings; she didn't want to know any of this.

****

"You have to stay," Angelienia repeated to the boy. "I need..."

"Bad man," Delion whispered. "Behind you."

Angelienia turned, her face suddenly something feral and wild, sharp teeth bared as she snatched up the discarded phaser and pushed Delion behind her in one move, firing before she had fully turned around. The beam caught the Jem Hadar in the shoulder and spun him around to take the second square in the back, burning a hole completely through him and dropping him to the ground without a sound. Angelienia rose, took one step, and fired again, and then again, only ceasing when the soldier was a smoldering, charred lump, long since unrecognizable as a living being.

Then, and only then did she turn back and drop to the sand next to Delion again. "Delion? He's gone now. He won't hurt you."

"I'm sorry, Angeli. I should have run when you told me to."

"No, no, no, you did fine, Delion, just fine," she whispered. "Just stay with me, I can't do this alone, I can't be alone. You're all I have."

The boy looked up at her for a moment, tried to speak - and then the pain drained out of his face. "Angeli?" He said, voice suddenly clear. "It doesn't hurt any more, Angeli."

"No, please," she whispered, as if the words would stop what was happening.

"Promise me you won't always be alone, Angeli," the boy asked. "Promise me you'll find someone and be happy. I'll be happy then too."

"Dear one... Brother... I..."

"Promise me," the boy repeated, voice softer, and touched Angelienia's face with his uninjured hand. "Be happy. Smile. Franthi told me his sister was prettier than you yesterday, but I hit him and said my sister was prettier than she was." He closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep now, I'm tired... But you have to promise... Promise.... Promi...."

Angelienia's face shattered like glass and she began to weep, rocking him, repeating over and over, "I promise, Delion, I promise...."

****

Ella gasped, scooting back across the floor, realizing the spot in front of the door was not her dying brother. Still, that she had no brother. She wiped back the tears from her cheeks.

****

Angelienia looked up from the floor, tears falling like rain into her now-empty hands. Something scurried at the edge of her hearing, a mouse moving along the baseboards of the wall, but she couldn't see it, couldn't see anything except the memory that she'd just relived. "Who's there?" she whispered; all the usual confidence and arrogance missing in the words. "Delion? Is that you?"

Ella couldn't respond, naturally, so she clapped her hands to help the woman focus on her spot.

The Ktarian woman frowned, focused... and hissed as she finally recognized who was there.

(tbc)

"The Secret of Vulcans"

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

Location: Quarters

Timeline: Before staff meeting.

Now that James' career was effectively on hold, he hadn't had much to do.

His efforts, until now, were part reward and part advancement. He loved his work as the chief of security, knowing full well that as an integral part of the ship's command staff and essential in the protection of all those aboard gave his position, and therefore his life, some meaning. To be useful was to be needed, wanted and loved.

The advancement part was less of a priority, but still important. Advancement meant that James could try new roles in Starfleet. Command. Captaincy. Perhaps a desk job controlling the personnel of a world, or a thousand worlds, or even visiting them himself in his own duranium hulled, anti matter stoking, warp drive driven chariot.

The point was, James felt that as a security chief, he had every option he could ever want. If he fancied to stay, which James had felt ever since the USS Galaxy started to accept him, he could stay on and enjoy his work, without the footloose feelings and needs for new challenges being too much of a bother. And if one day he wanted to try something else, his experiences could open the doors which some predicted should not have appeared to him in the first place.

It appeared that those pundits were right, for one of those doors led into a Romulan spymistress's bed, and directly out the airlock afterwards.

Corgan's security chief position gave him some purpose. Without it, he would be a ship without navigational sensors, drifting in a cold, uncaring void with nothing to go on but stars that were out of reach, too aware that to warp away was to invite a collision he would never see, but would feel nonetheless.

This was Corgan now. He had no direction.

A sense he could only describe as 'now what' was all he felt. Forlorn, hopeless, laying on his bed in his quarters, listening to late 20th century grunge music, having no sense of where he was going and what he was going to do about it. His effective path was no longer available to him. Advancement was pointless since an Admiral himself told James he was blacklisted. More and more he felt his position as the security chief being a liability, since the Captain made it quite certain that a replacement was a transfer away if he screwed up. Not only that, there were prospects in his own department, such as Lieutenant Krieghoff, that could establish their dominance.

James swigged from his bottle, feeling the fire water trickle down his throat. He never liked drinking, never did, but he was bored and had nothing better to do. The fact was, he wasn't enjoying his free time. All he did was sulk, and if the drinking kept up...

The only part he liked was the damn music, and even that was depressing!

James dropped the bottle, his head swimming as his head started to tingle.

"I need to talk to someone..." James sighed deeply ~"But who? I have no more friends on this ship. I'm not close to any of the command staff. I'm close to my department... but I can't just gush with them... hell, I'm their leader! I have to appear strong to them. How will they respect me if I heap my problems onto them? I've meet a few new faces, but am I close to them? Not really. I'd rather be with my old friends. Lexa, Rebecca, Shinta..."

Corgan paused, then grumbled "Most of them are female... Jesus Christ, I am a lecherous bastard. No wonder I got in trouble with Tekri."

Corgan allowed the sleepy, drowsy, depressing feeling to overtake him. His last thoughs, besides lamenting his pitiful social standing, was that perhaps the alcohol's tendency to act as a depressant and a sleeping aid thereby made it a poor choice for libations.

But it was too late for that. Sleep took him, and his mind was at another place.

**********

Where that other place was, he did know. It was a standard Galaxy class crew quarters. Sparsely decorated in light, inoffensive pastels like every other crew quarter, this room didn't have James loud and chaotic collection of music memorabilia. This room was more simple. On observation, he saw a few swaths of blue silk acting as curtains, and a shrine next to the work desk.

As for himself, it was odd that arriving in a female form, unwrapping a towel from the sonic showers, barely registered as embarrassment. Looking down, he saw the swell of shapely breasts. A tingle of arousal sparked him, but was somehow stifled as a confidence in his physical shape and fitness would surely bring the attentions of Lieutenant Marsh. Surak knew that this form pleased many men in the security department, and even the chief could not help but look from time to time.

The thoughts struck him as odd. Why would he be dreaming about Lieutenant jg T'lan? Though T'lan reminded James of a fond acquaintance from Starfleet Academy, and he did admit his eye caught her on occasion, it seemed odd to dream so intimately about one of his deputies. And yes, James was aware of the interplay between Marsh and T'lan at times to the point of impatience.

He seemed to be in his head, and T'lan's, at the same time. James felt bad for violating her privacy, but if it was a dream whom was he harming? All he could do was float on and watch, and feel.

James recognized the shrine as T'lan walked towards it. It was the IDIC symbol, popular with the Vulcans. His hands held incense sticks and a small combustible device. He strategically placed the incense in a bowl, lit it up with the combustible, and took both IDIC symbol and bowl onto the floor, sitting cross legged while doing so.

The odd sensation he was feeling was not anticipation, or anxiety. What he felt was so dimly registered that he could hardly feel it at all. This brought more attention to his physical condition. The heart beating, slower than he was used to. The skin cooling from a fresh sonic shower. His hair brushing up to his pointed ears. The way his gray tank top and shorts brushed comfortably on his skin. His breath swelling his chest, larger than he remembered...

The dream kept playing itself. James was and wasn't a part of the dream, in the mind of someone else, feeling what they felt, as they felt it, but not exercising any control. A strange dream to have, thinking oneself as a female Vulcan, dressed in underclothes, initiating the rights of prayer. It almost felt embarrassing, as if he was in someone else's head, reading their own daily experiences that should have been private by their rights. Even seeing himself/herself... whatever self he was, underdressed, undoubtedly a well toned and beautiful female rivalling anything James ever saw before, brought about a mental blush while at the same time feeling the duality of being uninterested in the physical.

Whatever James had become in the dream was provocative in a Spartan way. If he has the time, he would have guessed as to why his imagination was so obsessed about female Vulcanoids. Though true that his first sexual experience was with a Vulcan, and his last girlfriend was a Vulcanoid, the imagery he felt and saw seriously questioned whether or not he did have a strange fetish.

Something else tugged at his attention, back to the memory of not feeling. He uttered strange incantations, and though his Vulcan was rusty, he understood it to be the prayers of thanks to Surak, and the prayer to seek true logic and calm. The dimness of his/her feelings... was this what logic felt like?

If that was so, it would blow away every amateur Vulcan psychologist and throw open the secrets Vulcans closely treasured. It was every assumption by the emotional species that Vulcans really did feel, but suppressed it all in mental training and dogma.

How wrong it was! Vulcans really did not feel the way other people did! Just like James was feeling now. Not feeling anything but the spark of emotion. For a Vulcan, emotions started out as sparks, not as full on fires like the emotional races. What they really felt was weaker emotions than James ever felt at his most calm and bored.

When the emotion of what he/she was feeling was that much more small, and there was more room in one's head to examine what he/she was feeling, a strange elevation arose in his chest. The emotion, that small scrap, was savoured all that more. To the alien mind he was cohabiting, this small taste was better than any hedonistic feast of joy.

Over in another part, he did feel roiling emotions, and they were held back, but most were negative and pushed away more strongly than James thought anyone to be capable of. In this mind, there was suppression, but only on a grand scale of what any person, emotional species included, would try to do. It was just that Vulcans were so much better at it! And as a result, the small bits of satisfaction and gratification from their enlightenment could be so much more enjoyed.

The emotion he felt was so small, yet so pure and beautiful, so rare, that in itself it was more fulfilling, more satisfying.

And it was then that he felt the most gratifying flash of all.

Pure and total calm, and thanks for total insight.

James thanked god above as well.

*******

When James woke up, he could not tell what hour it was, but it was close to morning.

His head thumped like a jackhammer, a cry for help and water. The alcohol, not only helping in deepening his depression, but also dehydrated him, causing the headache that now mercilessly punished him.

Grumbling like a bear, trying preciously to hold onto the memory, James sonic showered. After being cleaned off, James removed his towel, and to his embarrassment saw that the memory of T'lan's naked and half naked body did have an effect on him.

"Oh for Christ's sakes." James muttered as he looked down, invoking in vain the god of his mother. With his troubles mounting, the last thing he needed to think about was physical desire for one of his subordinates! Besides that, it was just a dream!

James suited up in his uniform, opting for the officer's vest and gold longsleeve shirt instead of the tunic. He fastened the pips on his shirt, knowing full well that the alternate uniform was authorized for use by people of his rank, but discouraged. What were they going to do if they objected, kill his career?

He exited his quarters, the pulse pounding headache of a hangover still following him, but more as a dull thump instead of an insistent knocking. Overall, he felt somewhat good. The T'lan dream was interesting. Disconcerting, but as long as it remained private...

"Commander!" Cried out T'lan's unmistakable Vulcan voice from behind.

James was startled by the alarm coming from T'lan. It almost sounded emotional! No, not emotional, more of a natural reaction to something frightening.

"Oh my god." James jumped to conclusions, thinking T'lan actually knew. Already, he was on damage control, "Look T'lan, I didn't mean to dream about you. We humans can't control it and..."

When he turned around, the sight of T'lan killed his voice.

T'lan staggered towards him, dressed as James remembered her from the dream. There was nothing pleasing of the sight of her, however, as she stumbled into his arms. Her haggard hair scattered the meticulous Vulcan bowlcut into a tangled mess. A trickle of tomato green blood dried on the corner of her nostril. Her eyes looked more befitting of a wild beast subjected to torment than a serene, confident Vulcan.

"Commander...." T'lan croaked, convulsing like epilepsy. James lowered her down tenderly, at a panic of what to do next.

"Lieutenant!" James screamed, his hand fluttering to his comm.-badge. "Commander Corgan to sickbay! Medical Emergency! NOW!" He urgently cried out as T'lan shivered, twitched and groaned as if in her own internal struggle. Her skin, once a flush of healthy tan and green, was clammy, cold, and very pale.

"Commander..." She managed to gasp as pain and twitching coursed through her body, "...I saw you... it was terrible. The Borg... they didn't stop..."

That was when the terrible truth dawned on James.

"Sector 001. Oh..." James held T'lan tightly. It was then he started to think that it was no dream, that somehow James and T'lan shared something in their minds.

What James pulled was positive. But what T'lan saw was the same thing he dreamed about and woke up to in a cold sweat every night.

T'lan saw his traumatic experience at the second Borg battle, he just knew it. And from what he knew of Vulcans, she could not have stood a chance against images so powerful.

"Big Red Button"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering

The USS Galaxy glides effortlessly through space showing off her new hull. Something to be proud of, being the new bearer of an old Enterprise hull. An antique. A truly treasured possession. Her warp core glowing proudly within her as her crew works to ensure the protocols of Starfleet.

For the most part anyway.

Then something horrible happens. A hand hovers over a big red button that screams, “DO NOT TOUCH ME!” It literally screams. You can see the mouth move. Pan up and we see the evil grin of one Naranda Sol Roswell. The button begs, “Seriously! If you press me, something horrible will happen. Plus, I hadn’t washed my face yet and you’ll get button oil all over your finger. Do you want that? DO YOU?”

Nara grinned and nodded, “Of course!” She pushed the button to muffle out it’s scream.

Suddenly Nara was floating and swimming in the air and laughing.

Meanwhile, on the bridge, the captain had floated to the ceiling, “NUMBER ONE! GET ME DOWN!”

Number One was too busy kissing a young pretty Ops officer to hear his captain’s cry for help.

Nara jolted up in bed in the dark of her room. She scratched her head. Why was it assumed number ones’ were always mac daddies?

"Creepy Icky Oowee"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Ensign George Kastanza, Engineer

Kastanza licked his lips. Oh yes, this is where all the beauty of the ship is beheld. 10-4ward. Nara was not to be seen. She was always here this time of day. Or so he was told when he bugged everyone till someone actually told him they saw her there about this time. Sure he was on duty. Sure they were at yellow alert, but he thought he’d steal about 5 minutes to enjoy the view of Nara.

Instead he got nothing but a few worried people. Yellow alerts were like that. Kind of pointless to have a warning light on. All it did was serve to unnerve people.

He gasped. OF COURSE! Nara wasn’t here because she was in Engineering! He grinned as he made his way.

He walked in and past the chief who said as she worked, “You’re late!” He ignored her knowing he’d just have to sit through yet ANOTHER tardy lecture. It was a good time to daydream about the good wild days on Risa.

He approached Nara who looked like she was going to bust a vein. “Hey Babe.”

Nara didn’t look up but continued to study the fluctuating graph in front of her, “Busy.”

He ran his hand down her back, “Ah come on now.”

Nara swiftly turned and grabbed his wrist bending it just a hair away from breaking it, “Yellow alert. On duty. Ogle the warp core.”

He grinned, “After the shift then sweets.” He walked over to another console.

Nara shuddered and grumbled, “I’ll show you sweets.”

An ensign nearby said, “What?”

Nara looked at her, “Um, did we already run a diagnostic on the sensor sweep?”

The ensign looked confused and Nara sighed, “Never mind.” She turned back to her console.

"Congratulations, But I'm Gonna Kill Your New Boyfriend"

Naranda & Branwen

Nara walked into the quarters and straight to her room where she took a small blade off the wall and sat on her bed to look at it. Conzalas had given it to her before she left Sakaria. He had said hundreds of such swords were made to sell to the villagers with the promise it had the blessing of the Resurrected Hero and would bring them safety. Someone made money off her father's heroism and taking advantage of people's need for security.

She was told that when her family came there so Nara could be born there, Gary found out and quickly admonished the traders and tried to convince the people that only they can fight for their safety, but he would help if necessary. No sword promised protection unless you used it. Though some families, including Conzalas' father, believed in the myth of the sword.

Conzalas took it to give to Nara saying, "Remember the words. A sword is only protection if you use it. There is no blessing on this, and I know it. Just some man trying to make money. I know who you are. I know you beyond the legend of your father and beyond the legend that will soon surround you. I know the girl trying so hard to be a good warrior and leader, all the while so scared to let her father and home down. I know you and love you like a sister. I'm proud of you, and though I don't understand this need to go to Starfleet, I'm admiring you for it."

Making money off a war. That's what those traders did and that's why Saul wanted to go to Sakaria during shore leave. She stood angrily and swooshed the sword.

"Nara!!!!" Bran was so excited to tell her the news about Saul. Yet she stopped dead when she saw her roommate wielding the sword. "Bad time?"

Nara looked up scared she had hurt Bran. Seeing she didn't, she swooshed less violently a few times and placed it on her bed, "Yea, but I need to get out of it. What's up?" She walked into the common area going to the replicator scrolling through the menu, "Want anything?"

"I am fine. I am more than fine. I have met my imaginary friend. He exists, Nara. I am so in love, and he likes me as well. He's agreed that we can try to date when he is less busy." She was bubbling with emotion. Bran had very rarely been in love during her life, and had never had a boyfriend ever.

Nara stood there a moment thinking. She was afraid to admit she thought Bran sounded crazy, but instead of busting her bubble, she decided to play along. Trying not to sound condescending, she turned and asked, "Who is this imaginary friend? I mean where does he exist?"

"Here on the ship!!! I don't know how, but he is an officer. He came to meet me after you had left. Nara, he is amazing. So nice, just like the Sir Gawain of my dreams. He is a naval officer; I forgot to ask his department. I only know his name is Saul and that he likes me a lot. We almost kissed!"

Nara frowned hearing Saul's name. Her heart skipped a beat understanding what she was saying. Well if this was the story, she wouldn't worry about being friends with him. She gulped and put on a small smile, "He's an Intelligence Officer."

Nara turned and ordered chocolate ice cream. It took a lot of credits, but it was time for chocolate ice cream if there ever were a time. In fact, she wanted to be alone, but Bran was so happy and Nara wanted to be happy with her. Even if she was in love with an infuriating man. Even if it was likely she was seeing him as this amazing imaginary friend, and in reality he was nothing like she had dreamed. Somehow Nara could relate, except for the imaginary friend part.

She also didn't want her friend's heart broken. This would surely happen once she got to know Saul and see who he really was. She furrowed her brow as she sat and put the bowl on the table, "Bran..." She looked up and saw the hopeful eyes and her heart sank. She smiled again and said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Bran grinned at her. "I never had a boyfriend. Or someone who was even a little interested." She admitted. "You know him? Can you tell me more about him?"

Nara snorted, "Hardly." She shook her head. "I mean, I don't know him that well. Sorry." What she could tell her was he had split personalities, paranoid, and secretive. She sighed, "I know he's friends with Miramon. Try him."

"I can't." She blushed. "I couldn't go to a total stranger. I just had the feeling you knew him, I guess that was wrong."

Nara nodded, "I do know him. Just not well." She put some ice cream in her mouth thinking. She was in a primitive mood. Acting completely on impulse. She stood and walked over to the computer and typed a message to Saul.

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

TO: Saul Bental
FROM: Naranda Roswell
SUBJECT: Congratulations

I heard about you and Branwen. She's overjoyed. Congratulations. I think she could do better, but whatever.

Nara

P.S. If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you. Or better yet, torture you with a very painful vasectomy.

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

With an evil grin, she hit send. It was that same feeling she had when she destroyed the mine. The same feeling when she defeated the enemy back home in a few battles. With the mine, there was no remorse. With the battles there was. She thought of their families. And that remorse came a second after she hit send. She stared at the screen. She tried to recall it, but it was already waiting for Saul to open it. "Oh no." She breathed the words. She was angry and hurt. This was no time to even be thinking of talking to him or sending him messages. She worked her way through it, and deleted it before Saul could see it. She hoped he hadn't seen it.

She went back over to the couch and sat sadly, forgetting Bran was even there.

"What is wrong?" Bran softly asked after she had watched Nara send the message.

Nara looked up, "Oh sorry. Nothing." She began eating the ice cream again. Nara wished she could talk to Bran about her confusing feelings about Saul, but now she was afraid to. Now she wondered if she should even have any feelings toward this man. If Bran knew that she may possibly also have feelings for Saul, it could likely ruin the friendship before it began. She also wasn't sure she trusted Saul with anyone's heart. She sighed and spoke softly, "Just be careful. Don't get your heart broken."

"I don't think he will break my heart. He is perfect and much to kind to ever harm anybody. Yet I distinctly get the feeling something is wrong with you, come on you can share with me. That is what roommates are for."

Nara almost snorted. Oh boy, was SHE in for a surprise, but she kept her mouth shut. She just smiled and stood to put her bowl away, "Just don't be quick to call someone perfect."

"I've never trusted a man before." Bran said simply. "Why do I get the feeling that you know him better than you let on?"

Nara sighed and turned to look at her. "I just know him enough to know he isn't willing to let anyone really know him." She wasn't sure that made sense. "I don't know what he told you, but I don't see how he can be this imaginary friend from your childhood. Make sure you're not mixing fantasy with reality."

She watched Bran, knowing her words were likely harsh. She stepped closer, "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt. Date him, if you wish. Just don't hang your hopes on it until you get to know the real him." She smiled then, "Something tells me that the right lady can bring out the good in him." Nara knew aside from the split personalities and the evasiveness, if she looked hard enough, he had a good heart. Something was just clouding it.

"You will be honest with me?" Bran watched her closely. "I don't want you to be unhappy."

Nara had to be honest without being too honest, "You're not the one making me unhappy. I want you to be happy and I will hurt Saul badly if he hurts you."

Bran embraced her friend. "I want you to be happy as well, so please tell me if there is a problem, promise?" She said still worried.

Nara sighed, "If he really likes you and you guys end up being together, I'll be ok with it. I just don't trust him right now. In time, I'm sure that will change." Nara silently thought, ~If I don't kill him first.~ She had no intention of really killing him, but it seemed to feel so good to say it. The hatred drowned out the opposite feeling her heart was trying to have. That feeling was too confusing and too powerful. People foolishly die over silly things as love and devotion.

"Why don't you trust him?" Bran asked.

Nara shrugged, "It just seems like a Pandora's box. It's all locked up, and I'm scared what'll come out when it's opened."

"Do you distrust all men? Why him?" She really wanted to understand.

Nara thought a moment. She really didn't want to talk about it, "It doesn't matter. What I think shouldn't matter."

"I disagree. But if you really don't want to tell me I will stop asking." Bran said with difficulty.

Nara smiled, "I'm sorry. I'm just not really sure how I feel right now. Especially about Saul."

"Okay, let's drop the subject." Yet Bran didn't feel good about it.

Nara frowned watching Bran a moment. "I'm sorry I busted your bubble."

"You didn't. Yet I promise to be careful." She smiled. "And I hope I will prove you wrong."

Nara smiled and shrugged; "Only time will tell." She picked up a PADD and hit it against her palm a few times and looked back up, "I'm going to 10-4ward for a bit if anyone needs me." She walked out the door and a heavy weight fell over her. If Bran did prove her wrong, then Nara realized that there would still be someone hurt. It would be herself and she still wasn't quite sure why she cared all that much. So before she even fully decided she even wanted him, she had to let him go.

"Okay." Bran stayed behind to think. There was something between her roommate and the man she loved. She promised herself to get to the bottom of it.

"Green Means Stop"

By Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Unaurie Quyve,
Civilian Scientist

*****

Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room
20 minutes after Staff Meeting

*****

Daren M'Kantu wasn't one for nervous twitches, but the tapping of his forefinger against the slightly grown-out whiskers of his chin signified the changing times of his development of Captaincy over his crew.

He hadn't felt any attachment to wards the officers and enlisted of the Galaxy, but he was beginning to realize in his later years - and a turbulent time for the Federation - that he could not avoid the sentiment. The toll of lives piling up on his record that had been lost was whittling away his clinical detachment more each day. He'd make a poor doctor.

So many of his department chiefs were so young; not much older than his daughter today. Not as young as they once were, but such is the effect the Dominion War had on the Federation. He could only hope the current state of affairs with the T`Kith`Kin, Breen, and Hydrans would not have the same deprecating effect on personnel.

As such, it still affected him that he had to send personnel into the unknown situation the freighter represented. Only a garbled transmission and distress beacon could be identified. If he had any other option available to him, he was at a loss. If he turned away from this ship, lives in both universes would be lost. That was simply not an option.

His console blipped, signifying an incoming priority message. Tucking aside his thoughts, he walked the short distance to his desk and eased into his seat. The message scrolled through his screen. An eyebrow implored to rise, until he forced his expression to sit back to stoic. The idea of an individual turning their back and assistance on lives was deplorable; as a civilian though, she had the right to decline. She made her argument well, if not completely informed.

The thought of Curran - who had been sent the initial mail - being involved upon his return made the decision quite simple for Daren. With Emily Fellbaum being assigned as the local JAG officer to the ship, he had no desire to go to great lengths in justifying a forced assignment of a civilian to an Away team. Knowing Curran though, the issue will not go away.

"M'Kantu to Henderson." He depressed a switch alongside his terminal pad that would allow him a direct connection to his Executive Officer.

[Yes, sir?] He could hear the background noise of equipment assembly and voices. The Away team must be about ready to depart.

"Unaurie Quyve is to be scratched off your team."

[Aye, sir. May I ask why?]

"We can discuss it at a later date, Commander. Just make sure you come back to hear it. In the meantime, inform her that I wish to see her immediately."

[Yes, sir.] A pause, but he could hear muffled voices. [She's on her way, sir]

"Very good. Good luck, Commander."

[Thank you sir. Henderson out.]

*****

Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room
30 minutes after the staff meeting

*****

Unaurie made her way to the Captain's ready room as quickly as possible. To be frank, she was quite relieved to be off the away team. It wasn't that she didn't care about what was happening to those people on the freighter; she cared, but she wasn't in that line of work.

She was a scientist, for pity's sake. At the moment, a very ill scientist, at that. Her stomach flopped, protesting both the sandwich she'd forced down on her way down to the shuttle bay and the extra dose of pheromone suppressant she'd taken with it. Deltans didn't just entice with pheromones: their pheromones transmitted the full range of emotions from love, anger, frustration, fear.

Of all the things an away team didn't need, they didn't need the additional stress of feeling a Deltan's fear, especially fear increased by the fear she felt from them. Empathy had its drawbacks in the first place. Pheromones and empathy could be deadly.

She rang at the Captain's ready room, looking quite green. The half digested green pheromone suppressant tablets tasted quite disgusting on the way back up. Green death flavored, she had called them once, and scraped her tongue for half an hour to get the taste off of it.

Despite her best efforts, she was still putting out a level of pheromones higher than she would have liked. The captain would likely be able to sense it, the fear on her.

"You wanted to see me, Captain," she stated. Unaurie swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep down her lunch and the pheromone suppressant.

Daren had stood up upon her chiming, tugged his jacket down, and greeted her personally. He took notice of her less-than-fit condition, suddenly feeling a wash of fear rolling over him in subtle waves.

"Ms. Quyve, please, take a seat." He touched her elbow lightly to assist her, hesitating in the moment it may take for her to announce any impending social ritual that may disallow his from administering aid. "You look quite unwell, if I might say."

Unaurie took the assistance quite willingly. She sat in the chair he offered without protest.

"Is there anything I can get for you? Shall I call for a Doctor?"

She shook her head in the human fashion, indicating no.

With a quick movement, she grabbed the waste receptacle near the Captain's desk. She barely had it under her before the sandwich came back up. It had once been an array of spring vegetables and a leafy plant similar to watercress on a hearty whole grain bread. It came up as a dull brown paste peppered with unidentifiable bits of red, green, orange and yellow. It smelled strongly of bile and something truly acrid.

Daren's head jerked back at the overwhelming odor, and fought the urge to empty his stomach contents as well. Being polite, he squeezed one eye shut and took a step back, holding his breath.

Based on the look on the Deltan woman's face, it must have tasted worse than it smelled. Still holding her stomach and looking like she was in a great deal of pain, she stood. She moved and dumped the receptacle into the recycler. Her steps were uneasy and her hands shook as she lifted the receptacle.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she apologized, tears coming from the corners of her eyes. Her work overalls hung on her frame in a way that suggested they were a size too big. She looked like a sick child, pathetic but bravely trying to carry on.

M'Kantu blew out lightly, noticing the odor had rescinded to a dull hanging aroma. He made a mental note to have Operations increase the ventilation and sterilization intakes for the room over the next hour or so.

"It's my," she searched for a word, "medication. The medication I take so I can be on this ship. It upsets my stomach," she explained between hiccups. "I had to take an extra dose because of the close quarters on the shuttle. I'm so sorry."

She looked like she might be ill again. "If I could just trouble you for a glass of room temperature water, please."

"Yes, of course..." He blinked, inhaling short breaths to keep his stomach contents down. He ordered precisely what she requested, with an additional one of his own.

Handing one of the glasses to the Deltan, he couldn't help but feel for her. Not pity, just the endurance she must require to work with so many outside her own species that could not themselves endure the tumult of emotion that her chemical emitters enhanced within the humanoid mind.

She took several sips of the water and closed her eyes, as if she could will her stomach to settle by sheer determination and steadfast. "Less than .03% of the population reacts poorly to T-792," she explained. "I'm one of those fortunate individuals. If it wasn't for my understanding of Project November and my expertise, Starfleet wouldn't have even asked me to go aboard a starship."

"You only had to state this condition you are under to reject your placement on the Away Team, Ms. Quyve. It was never a requirement that you be placed on the team. Making Mr. Henderson aware of your condition and requesting leave is well within your rights."

"When I suggested to Lieutenant O'Shea that sending a civilian scientist into that situation might not be the most I was told it was my duty, Captain," she replied quietly, "and I did not feel that I could decline going into the situation. I felt belittled for having reservations at all, let alone voicing them. I didn't believe that my personal medical issues would have made any more impact on the decision to send me there."

Daren listened intently, leaning into his desk. He knew going forward with Suder's removal from his post that O'Shea would proceed with due ardor upon her job. It was natural that she would place extra emphasis on her most talented personnel, even if they were civilians.

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, removing the sheen of sweat from her brow. The fact that she was still afraid remained clearly evident. Her body language would have spoken volumes, even if she had no pheromones. She remained small in the chair, her arms close, her legs drawn to her chest.

"I know I'm an outsider on board your ship and I want to be helpful to minimize the impact that my presence makes on everyone here. That ship out there," she said as calmly as the quaver in her voice would allow, "is not my duty. It is not my duty to do anything aboard this ship that isn't directly related to Project November. The assistance I've given in engineering is in accord with facilitating the Project."

"I want to be helpful, Captain, but going out ship, based on the information I was given, is beyond the scope of the project and it is beyond the scope of being helpful," Unaurie explained. She took another sip of the water.

She flushed again as another wave of nausea took her. "I'm sorry, Captain," she apologized. "I am really trying not to be feel ill. I'm trying just to be ill. The distinction is difficult."

"You cannot fault your body's desire to heal itself, Ms. Quyve." Graciously lifting himself off the tabletop to circle around to the elongated sofa across from them, he settled down to a leaned forward position with elbows upon knees, his hands clasped.

"You were selected for this team because of your warp field theory skills. That ship out there is having serious warp troubles that are not 'run-of-the-mill'. Your intuitive grasp of the physics involving the complexity of the problems facing that ship is what we had in mind in sending you there. You've elected to remain based on your lack of skills in the area and contractual obligations. I'll note it as such in the logs."

"Captain, the only thing I'd do over on the other ship is shut down the warp core and tell you to tow them back to Starbase 212. I'm a theoretical physicist, not a mechanic," Unaurie protested softly. "Two trainees and a chimp could figure out how to do that. Lieutenant O'Shea should have no problems. She's an excellent engineer."

He carried on. Arguing the merits of his crew was not a topic to be accounted for in this discussion. "As for Lieutenant O'Shea... Yourself, Legate Curran, the Lieutenant, and I will work something out to everyone's understanding upon the end of this mission, when Mr. Curran is due to rejoin us. While I appreciate your candor in expression, next time you wish to bring up a grievance against one of my crew, bring it to me first." He rubbed his fingers together, twisting them amongst themselves. "Is that satisfactory?"

"I'll try to remember that in the future, Captain," Unaurie replied, sipping more water. "It's just that most Captains are angry you're on their ship or angry that a person isn't Starfleet and doesn't want to be Starfleet. I've been in some very intimidating situations. A legate often helps keep those kind of situations from happening."

Daren nodded. Of that situation he could quite understand. Many Starfleet Captains throughout the ages have had delusions of godhood, not much liking a civilian being outside their 'laws'. This was one of the many reasons there was a liaison corps unit stationed on every starship and base.

"Eternal Sunshine" - Part 1

BACKPOST - Before the Senior Staff

Commander Cassius Henderson,
Executive Officer, USS Galaxy-A

Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara,
Chief Operations Manager, USS Galaxy-A

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy-A

"Henderson to Main Engineering.  Shut down the core!" Cass shouted, hands clinging to the command chair to avoid being thrown across the rapidly pitching bridge.  He had never seen so sudden and catastrophic a failure to a warp stress test.  "Mister Sh'laran, switch over to manual control!"

[Bridge!  Prepare for emergency procedures!]

M'Kantu's voice cut through the chaos, and Cassius Henderson snapped his head around to focus on Cameron Bartlett at Ops.  "Mister Bartlett, prepare for saucer seperation on my mark!"  Something sparked and exploded behind him, and Cassius turned his head.  The sparks were closer than he'd expected, and he could see one of the new tactical officers running away from their station as fire spread across it.

He blinked, and everything went white.

****

The Sentinel,
Deck 3,
USS Respite : December 14, 2374

Cass's eyes blinked open again, and he turned his head back to face the viewscreen, to Sh'laran and Bartlett and the saucer seperation procedures. But they weren't there.  The room was sparsely lit, and he sat at a circle booth in a vaguely familiar lounge and bar.

Blinking again, he rubbed at the dark spots in his eyes.  The light had been blinding, and for a moment he thought he'd been seeing things.  The familiar smell of cigar smoke and alcohol rose to his nose, and he knew that he was home.  In the background, a holographic blues group wailed.  There was only one place he'd ever known that was quite like this one: the bar on the USS Respite.

Before he could consider the implications of his unexpected presence onboard the ship that he'd spent the vast majority of the Dominion War, a familar young woman slung herself into the booth with him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "Cass!" she gasped, kissing him forcefully, "And how did I know I would find you here?"

Pulling back from him, she called for one of the many servers, whom Cass had always suspected were Counter-Intelligence Agents listening for leaks. Examining the young woman, he was immediately taken by her radiant smile.  Her cheeks delicately dimpled as she laughed at some anecdote the server was telling her.

Then Cassius Henderson realized why he was taken by her smile.

It wasn't because it lit up her face.  It wasn't because it made her look joyous.  It wasn't because she had a beautiful face.  It was because it had all happened before.  Because that was Ensign Simone Ovrali, the team's sniper, and her smile was what had drawn him to her.

She was short for an agent, only 5'4", with red hair and brown eyes.  Her firey mane was currently pulled up behind her head, and her signature black beret was firmly in place atop it.  She was dressed in her favorite shirt, a tube top that showed off her well built swimmer's shoulders.  She'd been a swimming champion at Starfleet Academy before she was accepted to Advanced Intelligence School.

But it wasn't possible.  She was dead, or so the story went, along with Sigmund Browning.  They had never come back from an operation that Cass had planned. Starfleet Intelligence (Which Cass had known to mean Admiral Illyanovitch) had refused to send in an extraction team, and had written the two off as a loss.

It had been his final mission under the direction of Commander Brenna Worthman, their team's handler.  With Simone gone, he'd felt an emptyness when he sat down with the other operatives, and he'd fought bitterly with the man who's taken her place with the rifle.  Eventually, three weeks before the team's next mission, he'd handed his resignation to Worthman and asked for reassignment.

Starfleet Intelligence (Again, more likely Admiral Illyanovitch) had sent him to Dalson Center, set him up, and brought him down.  He'd been cashiered from SFI less than a year later and wound up demoted, aimless, and hopeless on the door of the Glasgow Advanced Tactical School.

~It was, as Dickens said, the best of times and the worst of times,~ he thought, as the server brought Simone back a bottle of Jack Daniels, ~We were so young...~

"Come on, Cass, stop starring at me like that!" Simone laughed, her perpetual smile, absent only when she was sighting in her rifle, lighting up her face. "I got us a nice bottle of Jack!  17th successful mission, as of this morning! And all thanks to your exquisite sense of planning."

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he turned his head away at the last minute.  That hit her, and she sat back, placing the bottle of Jack Daniels on the table.  "Are you upset with me, Cass?  The mission went off without a hitch."

He shook his head and tried to find the words.  For the longest time he couldn't, so they sat there in an awkward silence that he'd never known when they'd been together.

"No," he replied, "I'm just disoriented.  What's today's date, Simone?"

"December 14th, 2374," she looked confused, "You know, December.  The month where you're supposed to keep me warm by the fire?  Come on, stop playing with me.  You know my nerves are probably shot right now!"

He thought for a moment.  That was exactly what he had done in December of '74.

He'd kept her warm by the fire... on Breen.  And then, in January, they'd enacted their plan.  It had delayed Breen entry into the war for a month while they repaired the Neural Net.  And then, as they exited, Simone had insisted on one more mission.  To elimate a senior Thot.  He'd planned it, then abandoned it months before.

She never came back.

"I'm sorry, Simone," he sighed, wondering what the hell was happening.  He needed time to think, "It's been a long day for both of us.  I'm beat.  Let's take this and go celebrate back at the barracks."

"Are you sure, Cass?" she looked worried, her beautiful smile had dissapeared. The memories flooded back into him.  They'd spent their free time together in the Respite's holosuites, escaping from the realities of war.

"Yeah, I'm proud of you," he replied, and was about to continue.  He wanted to get her out of there, to explain to her that this couldn't real, but he squeazed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling tired.

****

Starfleet Intelligence Safe House,
Breen,
January 4, 2375

When Cassius opened his eyes, he was transported to another place.  He was in bed, with a familar form wrapped around him, and they were both naked.  He forced himself not to jump out of his own skin at the realization.  He had to be on Breen, though it made no sense to him.  The chill of the place cut straight to them, through three blankets.

Turning to look at Simone's sleeping face, he remembered how peaceful she'd looked that night.  It was the evening before the start of the six day operation in which they'd infiltrated the Breen Neural Net's Communications Center, planted a virus, and shut down the entire transmission system for a month.

She murmured something in her sleep, and shifted next to him, snuggling closer.

It was the last time they'd been intimate, he recalled.  They had lost contact with her on January 10th, 2375.

Cass felt, for all the world, as if somebody had walked across his grave. Whatever was happening, he wondered why it was this particular memory that had been chosen to appear to him.  Why this memory, of all the one's he didn't want to remember.  Ever.  He squeezed his eyes shut and willed it all away.

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy-A

He opened his eyes for a moment, to see Lieutenant Abaddon starring at him. The Consensus Tactical Officer eyed him suspiciously, as if he'd been acting oddly.

Cass focused on him, "Something just happened to me, Lieutenant.  It was some sort of different time and place.  Something that already happened."

He thought for a moment.  "Call somebody up from Counseling.  Make it Lywhyn if she's avail..." he blinked, involuntarily, and was gone again.

****

Shuttle Vreekaa,
Breen,
January 6, 2375

The turncoat shifted uneasily in front of Cass.  If the Breen was having second thoughts, his refrigeration suit hid them from Cassius and the rest of his team.  Vak'ar, the Breen shuttle pilot, had been turned with the promise of freedom from the Neural Net.  Cass had cornered him in a dark alley behind a munitions manufacturing plant and disabled his link with a well placed ion burst mine.  They'd covered it by destroying the plant, making it look like a reactor meltdown.  For all intents and purposes, Pilot Vak'ar was dead.

"Well, are they going to buy it?" Sigmund Browning wondered impatiently.  The too tall germanic terran was the group's heavy weapons expert and demolitionist.  He was also the one Cass kept the closest eye on, for his temper and aggression could cause problems.  Cass had always wondered, after Browning and Ovrali disappeared that last day, if it hadn't been Browning's fault.

[It is possible.]

Vak'ar turned to look at the oxygen breather.  [My people...] he stumbled over the phrase, as he was in the process of betrayal, [They are very paranoid. There are sixteen codes that I must enter flawlessly.  I have entered them.  We will soon know the outcome, for we will either be granted permission to land, or we will be vaporized.  For all of our sakes, hope that I knew the proper code.]

Cass felt himself shudder, though he knew that Vak'ar had entered them properly.  As history dictated, the Breen nodded a moment later, and began to guide them through the bristling defense batteries.  Their escape from the military city would be difficult, but Cass had it planned down to the second.

Turning back to the team, he looked them over.  Art Blackwelder, his rival, was going over the technical gear, the usual smug snear plastered on his face. Veloric, the Vulcan, stood perfectly still, calm as ever, his gear perfectly aligned.  Browning was counting grenades.

As his eyes settled on where Simone would have been standing, he was surprised to find her replaced by a more recently familiar face, that of Tarin Iniara. Walking toward the back of the shuttle, he caught Iniara's arm and lead her away from the group, hoping she'd remain quiet.

"Soylant Green is People"

By
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Unaurie Quyve,
Civilian Scientist

"Now, Project November. How are the tests proceeding? Did the failure of the warp drive during our first trial run have anything to do with the project? I'm afraid the data jacket on the Project wasn't forthcoming in translation to a language I could understand clearly."

"Yes," Unaurie replied, "and no. The new nacelles are equipped with the first stage installation of the November device, but the failure wasn't because of the November device. I've been over all the readings collected from before the incident and all the readings taken from this part of space since we've returned. If I didn't know better, I'd say some outside force was directly affecting the phase harmonics and the shape of the warp bubble we're generating."

She paused a moment, trying to think. Another wave of nausea swept over her. "There was something else," she stated. "While we were in that strange effect. It felt," she stopped speaking and started shivering like she was cold. "I felt." She rubbed her hands together as if she were trying warm them. "I felt the rest of the crew. There was so much pain."

For the first time, Unaurie met his eyes. "There were aliens. I felt them. They wanted to know about time and pain. Like they were testing us, trying to see how much we could handle."

This caught his attention. He too had felt something out of place, but it was more intuition than what the Deltan was sharing with him. He rose from the couch to take position in the chair opposite her, the cumbersome aroma forgotten as he focused on what she had to say.

"Please, go on. Take your time to formulate your thoughts."

"I'm not sure where to begin," the Deltan woman stated, falteringly. There were so many random memories bouncing around her head, so many that weren't hers, but unlike many of the others, Unaurie didn't find it confusing. Deltans often shared memories and experiences that way. She found it overpowering, like trying to hear her own voice while speaking in a crowded bar: she literally couldn't hear herself think.

Unaurie focused, taking deep slow breaths, trying to catch thoughts and memories that were her own and hold on to them. "Before there was Project: November, there was Project: Starlight. Did you ever hear anything about Project: Starlight, Captain?"

"Vaguely. If you think it has reference to current events, feel free to refresh me."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the details. They aren't important, anyway," she stated. "What is important is that I have only had two of these 'memories relived' moments of my own. Both incidents were related directly to Project: Starlight."

She rubbed her temples and looked extremely distressed, as if she were in a great amount of pain. "On Delta we have a word for this kind of experience, forcing other memories and experiences on a person," she leaned over and picked up the waste receptacle, placing her feet on the floor as she did. She put the receptacle in her lap and hugged it, rocking slightly. Daren raised an eyebrow at her making the garbage her closest ally. He twirled his fingers in a 'carry on' motion.

"Oh, yes," she continued, forcing a smile. "Project: Starlight. Project: Starlight was an experiment in quantum mechanics and temporal physics. The idea was to use chronotons as a fuel source. The initial application turned out to be unstable, but we managed to get a working temporal stream engine out of part of the research. "Project: November, if it works, could make warp obsolete. Imagine the ability to sense the quantum and temporal currents of the universe and then alter a ship's quantum and temporal data in such a way as to put it in another place. It would be like nearly instantaneously beaming a ship to a desired location."

"That idea has been attempted before, with disastrous results. I sincerely hope you do not attempt to perform any such experiment on this ship without my knowledge of it, correct?"

Unaurie shook her head again. "The first stage installation is just an array of specialized sensors to collect quantum data both inside and outside the the warp bubble. We'll be trying to optimize the existing technology while we work on stage two. We hope to make the warp systems more efficient and understand the damage that the warp fields cause to the fabric of subspace so we can prevent it, if possible, maybe even reverse it. Stage two involves testing the quantum generators in the lab and comparing it with data gathered in the field."

"Very good. Please continue with your thoughts on these memory beings. We are seriously short on facts, let alone methods of communication with them."

"I've done enough with temporal physics that my understanding of time isn't exactly what most people's understanding of time is," Unaurie continued. It was a polite way of saying she'd been exposed to high levels of chronotonic radiation in the course of her work. She didn't explain that part, however. "These beings seem to have a semi-collective mind; individuals exist but they exist as part of a whole. They also seem to have a non-linear understanding of time. Theoretically, they're not four dimensional beings, like we are, meaning beings of height, width, depth and time as a linear. They seem to experience time like we experience space, a medium to move through."

Unaurie paused and was violently ill once again. This time, however, her stomach was mostly empty. Only water came up into the can. Her eyes watered and she wiped them on the back of her sleeve before continuing.

"During the event, I became aware of what was happening. I broke out of it, to a degree, and came to find you. I sensed pain, anguish, despair all throughout the ship before I found you. I sensed that from the crew. What I sensed from the alien minds ranged from interest, to idle curiosity, to indifference." She paused, her fingers shaking as they gripped the lip of the trash can.

"They feed on memories, right?" Unaurie asked, to confirm. "Where have they been getting the memories they feed on, Captain? I would suggest that we're their food, Captain, and they've just found a way to increase food production."

"Then why have we not been losing our memories, or encountered any other physical or mental deficiencies other than slipping in and out of random memories? Why even bother to return us in the first place?"

"I don't know. Maybe they feed on emotions and not memories. Maybe they just use the memories to induce the emotional response. Maybe they need us to carry them through our dimension."

For a moment the room flashed and they were in the jungle. He saw Unaurie as a girl, no more than fifteen from the look of her. She stood alone in the middle of a clearing.

This was not Unaurie's memory of this event, that much M'Kantu knew. His vantage point was wrong. From M'Kantu's vantage point, he could see her from the back. Her clothes were tattered. She held a large rock in one hand behind her back. Her stance told him she was terrified and in a cold kind of way, he liked that idea. It gave him more control over the situation.

There was movement the bushes. Something was coming up the game trail. Several somethings, from the sound of it. A group of six Cardassians, armed, obviously soldiers, broke through the foliage. One of them asked something in Cardassian. He could understand bits and pieces of it.

The Cardassian took a step toward the young Unaurie. "Don't worry, little girl," the Cardassian leared. "I won't hurt you much."

He mentally urged Unaurie to take a step forward and she did, the fear roiling off of her like a steam off a boiling pot of water. The Cardassians could smell it, of course. They knew they had the upper hand, right up until the other teenagers dropped down from the trees.

Eight teenagers, including Unaurie, brutally battered in the skulls of a Cardassian patrol.

"You did well, ashaya," M'Kantu told her in a voice not his own. "For once, your behavior was perfectly logical."

Young Unaurie looked at the rock and at her hands. Both were covered in Cardassian blood. He could feel the horror and the revulsion in her at what she'd done. The rock rolled out of her hand.

As she backed away, the vision faded and the room returned.

Unaurie found the strength to look the Captain in the eyes once again. "Maybe we're just the bait," she replied. With that, the Deltan woman went slack in the chair. She had fainted. Probably couldn't take reliving that last memory.

M'Kantu called medical. "Medical. I need an emergency beamout to sickbay from this location for Ms. Quyve. Keep me informed. M'Kantu out."

As her body shimmered away, M'Kantu sagged behind his desk. He needed to think.

He needed more information.

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