"Morning Rant.....er..Coffee"

*Content Warning. Adult Language*

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg, CMO
Lt.(jg) Dr. Jack Slen, Pathologist/Generalist(NPC)

Location: 10 forward, 0700 hours

Another Day, another pot of coffee. Klaus looked over his reports. Only 2 days had passed with the chronometers of the ship having gone to 2 months. With that was about a month of research on blocking unusual telepathic intereference from an unknown outside source. All of it useless due to whatever fixed things. Only one thought rang in Klaus' mind.

"I hate time travel."

"You and me both, Fienberg." A white haired man with almost unnoticible beta-trill spots on his temples and down his neck stood at the table.

"Ah the stunningly attractive personality of Dr. Jack Slen. What may I do for everone's favourite 'bastard-case' today?"

"Nothing...Just came to ask you why nothing *NORMAL* ever happens on the god damned ship? Think back. We get into a big brawl with the Damned insects and Breen and afterward, despite all we lost, all the damage they did, and *STARFLEET COMMAND HAS THE WHOLE FUCKING THING COVERED UP.* Then After that, there are these crazy memories...and after all we do to try and stop them...they stop on their own and what seemed to use to be 2 months *WAS TWO DAYS!*"

For once in his life, Klaus agreed with his hotheaded....contemporary. "Yes..I wonder that myself. But I believe it comes with the job. And stranger things have happened. You weren't aboard for Quenton. Something strange happened there, no one remembers, but everyone knows it happened."

"Exactly what I'm talking about." Jack nodded, slamming a finger on the table.

"Would you like some coffee, Jack?" Klaus put a hand out torward the pot of decaf coffee.

"No, None of that Decaf crap for me. As a matter of fact, I'll be right back."

He got up and walked over the replicator, ordering scrambled eggs on toast, and a bottle of hotsauce, with a hot cup of caffinated coffee. He returned and started to eat. "Egh....You ever notice the tinny taste replicate food has sometimes?"

"Yes, Jack, But I feel you'll go into detail anyway."

"Well, it tastes like crap you Cocky German bastard..." he continued, a clump of food in his mouth and pointing his fork at Klaus.

Klaus smirked. "Don't forget who has 2 pips and who has one and a half pips."

Jack rubbed his forehead. "So, *sir*, what about all our research."

"I've had it recorded for future reference. Might be useful should we ever need to block telepathic influences on the majority of the crew."

"Cocky *and* Competant." Jack tapped his fingers on the table, eating his breakfast.

"Jack, you're the only one who thinks I'm cocky. You realize that right?"

"Cocky German bastard...."

"Of Memories, Medicine, and Purple Oceans"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

Trill,
February 2382

Eytan leaned forward over the balcony and smiled as he looked out at the sea. He'd never seen purple oceans before coming to Trill, not even in the Delta Quadrant. The sight of amethyst waves crashing against sun-golden beach was, as far as Eytan was concerned, unique in the galaxy. Admittedly there was still a lot of the galaxy that the young Brenari had yet to see, but he could at least say with confidence that he had seen a lot more of it than many other people his age.

As a warm breeze blew through his long brown hair, Eytan closed his eyes and tried to see it through his mind, concentrating on the sight that had been in front of him just moments ago. His heartbeat and respiration slowed as he tried to focus his mind's eye. He thought he was beginning to see something, a slight glimmer of sunlight and a haze of purple--

"Enjoying the view, I see," came a voice from behind Eytan, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to face the speaker and smiled, nodding slightly as he responded.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Trill is a beautiful planet, Doctor. Thank you for allowing me to stay at your home while awaiting the Galaxy's arrival."

"Nonsense, it was the least I could do," Dr. Mazrin Nox replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He came to stand beside Eytan and looked out at the ocean, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath of the salty air, a smile on his tanned, weathered face. "Besides, how could I refuse the request of a Starfleet doctor, especially one so eager to learn about Trill medicine firsthand?" he added. "Though I don't think that either of us expected your lessons to go on as long as they have..."

Eytan shrugged. "The Galaxy was supposed to arrive at Trill over a month ago; apparently they had a little trouble while en route." He smiled. "To use an old Earth expression," Eytan was fond of learning and using expressions common in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, "whatever it is, it's probably 'par for the course.' For them, at least. In my limited experience, starships, especially ships of the line, seem to run into a new problem on an almost weekly basis."

"Don't I know it?" Mazrin responded with a chuckle. "I was Chief Medical Officer of the USS Galileo for twelve years; I saw my fair share of strange and bizarre things. Speaking of the strange and bizarre, Eytan, what did you think of the Tenaran ice cliffs?"

"What's so strange and bizarre about the Tenaran ice cliffs?" Eytan wondered. He had returned from a trip to the ice cliffs the day before.

"Well, nothing I suppose, now that you're no longer near them..."

"Funny," Eytan muttered, turning to face the sea again.

Dr. Nox grinned and patted his young boarder/student on the back. "Lighten up, Eytan!" he admonished. "If you're going to behave like that while you're aboard the Galaxy, you're not going to make very many friends."

With a sigh, Eytan turned to face the elderly Trill doctor again. "Sorry, Doctor. Sometimes I forget that when people seem to be insulting me, they're more often than not just making a harmless joke. You think I'd be used to it by now after all these years, but..." he shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

"Indeed. Or old fears do, anyway," Mazrin responded, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "The Devore are far, far away, Eytan. I sincerely doubt that you'll ever see another one of them again. You shouldn't let your experiences with them in the past guide your life in the here and now."

"I know that, damn it!" Eytan growled. "How many times do you think I've told myself that, Mazrin? I've been free of the Devore for almost six years, but I will *never* forget what they did to me, to the Brenari, or to my family!" His gloved hand gripped the balcony hard as Eytan fought to keep the memories of those painful days from resurfacing.

"And no one expects you to," Mazrin said reassuringly. "But part of life is acknowledging what happened in the past, accepting it, and moving on. It's the only way we can grow and learn."

Eytan scowled at his friend and folded his arms across his chest. "I thought you were a physician, not a psychiatrist," he grumbled.

Mazrin grinned. "My friend, psychiatry is just another form of medicine! Remember, they didn't have any counselors aboard starships when I joined Starfleet. The medical officers often had to pull double-duty as counselors back then. You and the rest of today's shipboard medics have it easy." He laughed as Eytan rolled his eyes at that. "Now, unless you have anything else to add to this delightful little counseling session, Mister Eytan, you and I have another lesson to get started on." He put his arm around the young Brenari's shoulders and turned him around, leading him back inside. "Now, where were we last time?" he asked.

"You were teaching me about how benzocyatizine is used to adjust the levels of isoboramine in joined Trill, and also about benzocyatic regimens," Eytan replied.

"Ah, yes! Well, if you thought *that* was interesting, my young apprentice, just wait until you see what I have in store for you today..."

"The Rite to remain silent"

Ensign Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

"That's right. Thank you SO much."

Saul flicked off the communication display, and spun toward the other Intelligence personnel who waited for the conversation to end. "We finally got the weapons list from the freighter. Took long enough to convince them that we have clearance."

From the far side of the room, came the voice of Ensign Dupont. "This should wait Saul, we're getting signs of more incoming darts."

"Swell." Saul muttered. "Nyoko and Philippe, threat assessment, deliver it directly to the bridge's Tactical console. Novitz, start going through the recordings of Captain Adair's interrogation, we'll see if there's anything useful there. I'll go over the list with Seren."

With that, Saul crossed the hall and sat next to the Vulcan informatician. Seren looked satisfied, as much as a Vulcan could look satisfied. He had all the reasons in the Galaxy to be satisfied – after all, he and Saul were the one who initially figured that the freighter carries weapons and not fruit.

The list of weapons they were reviewing was compiled by Commander Henderson's away team. Most of them were constructed in a way that would fool any sensor grid that didn't inspect them close enough, and others were held in cases that masked their contents. It was a nasty arsenal.

"Speculations?" Seren asked.

"Either these weapons were delivered to the Dreshayans, or to the Dreshayans' enemies, or stolen from the Dreshayans. There's a fourth options which I do not believe – that the Dreshayans were simply trying to steal a delivery unrelated to them. They might be arrogant bastards, but they're not space pirates."

"At least, their government does not openly support piracy." Seren nodded.

The two of them decided that the best course of action was to try and locate the source of the weapons. It wasn't an easy task given the fact that the ship was rapidly approached by enemy craft, but Saul already assigned men to handle that threat and there was no point in just sitting back and waiting for the fight to end before getting back to work.

Saul let Seren meddle with the source of the biogenic weapon, and concentrated on the more conventional weapons. Some of them were Orion-made, others cheap imitations of Federation and Romulan weapons. Nothing of top quality, but even cheap weapons could kill.

The, he noticed the symbol one of the crates. The away team took photos of their findings, and the crate was in the fourth photo. Saul asked the computer to enlarge and enhance the image a couple of times, until there was no doubt.

The insignia of Siave Shuni export-import incorporated.

Shortly after battle of Havras, Saul ran into that name. Siave Shuni was one of the companies involved in the cash flow that lead to the Triad's activities, mainly to the Hydrans.

It was also, unknown to everyone else, a company indirectly owned by the Bental family.

Saul was sure the company was only involved in credits laundry, since the only way you could maintain such a company for your personal purposes was to keep it away from any visible illegal activities. Arms dealing? That was certainly something no Bental would use such a company for.

Something was wrong here.

Saul bent his head forward, to rest his forehead on his hands in despair.

Just then, the Dreshayans darts leapt out of warp, enlarging the subspace rift. Saul's forehead never reached his fingers.

* * * *

Bounce a ball.

Sprinkles of water on his face. The hovercraft humming beneath his legs, plouging through Utrecht III's ocean.

"Arms. That's what's hot. Weapons, man. The fastest way for fortune."

Saul chuckled. "Two fifteen years old arms dealers. I can see THAT happening."

He's been there before. Last attonement day, just before the battle began. He dreamt of this place, of this scene. Now, it seemed much more real, much less like a memory. Soon, his friend will tell him that He is a Bental, and like half of his family-

"… like, half your family must be in the weapons dealing business."

That was far form accurate back then, and since Saul kept a close eye on his family's activities, he knew that it was far from accurate even now. But perhaps he missed something?"

"I'd like to think of myself as a merchant Bental, not a crimelord Bental. Not that there are any Bentals who do anything illegal, of course. Everything we do-"

Suddenly, the ocean's floor lit, and the light rushed up and up until finally bursting through the waves, blinding the two of them.

* * * *

"Everything we do is legit."

Saul tightened his hold on his coat. Embedded into the coat was the hidden, dormant communication system. It was made out of nanites, tiny agents embedded into the fiber. They complemented the seemingly innocent communication bracelet on his left hand.

Saul touched it with his right hand. The bracelet wasn't an implant, unlike the implanted bracelet he had when he was seventeen. No, this bracelet allowed him to communicate with the Special Observations craft in orbit of Oranara, which was cleverly disguised as a non-aligned, civilian merchant vessel.

The special observations program was Saul's first posting. He was perfect for the job, which required officers who knew how to mingle into a crowd, barter with merchants, and act in a very non-Starfleetish way. The Special observation program gave Starfleet the ability to collect non-covert Intelligence from neutral worlds which wouldn't allow Starfleet agents to roam freely.

This was his final mission on the special observation program. After the fateful meeting with the contact, he will be removed from the program and transferred to Earth to the prestigious role of Intelligence analyst.

He was not going to relive this if he had a choice.

Saul turned around to live the abandoned alley he was in, just when he heard steps behind him. Instinctively, he turned around.

"Hello." He said, his voice altered so that his accent would sound Ornaran. The Ornarans looked much like Humans, so they didn't need to alter him too much to make him look local.

"Merry meet." Came the other man's voice, in a painfully familiar accent. Saul was supposed to meet the man in order to complete a transaction – the Special Observation craft was masked as a merchant vessel, and to maintain that cover they had to conduct trade. The man was a representative of an organization which imported medicine that helped the Ornarans fight their addiction to drugs, in exchange for some goods which the Oranaran government didn't want to export.

Saul's meeting with the man was his own initiative. He thought he could gain some extra profit, and the meeting was preceded by some shady dealings with other Ornaran merchants and companies.

And now he was here, and in front of him was a man he never expected to meet here.

The Human narrowed his eyes, a single brown curl falling on his forehead. "You look familiar.", he said.

To a Starfleet agent acting undercover in an alien world, these words sounded like 'If you don't mind, I'm going to give you a Cardassian mask and release you in the capital of Bajor."

In reality, Saul hesitated, denied, quickly finished the transaction, and left before the man realized that Saul's resemblance to a past employer – Saul's cousin Ronald, as they later found out – was not a coincidence.

Of course, Saul reported the encounter. Of course, the craft's commander determined that this encounter could blow their cover and perhaps close the entire Special Observations program. Of course, they decided it's better to eliminate the threat than to take the chance that the man Saul encountered would report his presence to Ronald. Of course, in the aftermath, it was decided that it was a risk to carry Saul along for more missions, and that his personal endeavors could be risky for the mission. Of course, they had to conduct a stealth raid, and get rid of the man first in order to prevent any possible connection between the craft and Starfleet.

It was the last time Saul Bental killed a man.

There was no reason to go over that whole charade again.

"You shouldn't have said that." He said simply as he drew his hidden weapon and squeezed the trigger in one fluent motion.

A flash of light filled the alley, slightly more radiant than weaponsfire. The man vanished, and so did Saul.

* * * *

The Galaxy floated alone in space, with no evidence of the recent turmoil.

Saul sat in his office, the toll of leadership finally taken off his shoulders. There were still many things occupying his thoughts. He was trying to compile recent events and findings into a single, coherent report to the relevant Starfleet Intelligence elements, but his mind kept drifting back to the dreams he had during the last several days.

Or couple of months if to ask anyone who wasn't on the Galaxy at the time.

Again, he replayed the encounter with Ronald's ex-employee in his mind. It was one of the moments which made him crystallize his agenda, and which eventually determined his course of action.

Saul glanced at a display which showed a three dimensional representation of their ship's route. The dot at the end of the line represented the Trill star system.

Saul clenched his left fist. So much of his plans rested on how he will handle the events on Trill. One mistake, and his agenda – and life – will be forfeit.

Saul coughed, moaned slightly, and return to his work.

He'll be ready for Trill alright.

"The Lies Of The Pathetic"

Ensign Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

Ensign George Kastanza, Engineer (NPC)

LOCATION: Intelligence CIC

George sniffed as he straightened his uniform and entered the Intelligence offices looking for Saul. He would let this Saul know what Nara was doing. Well, who he wished Nara was doing: himself-Mighty George.

"Excuse me sir." came a slightly annoying voice, "Are you supposed to be here?"

George, in his smirky way answered, "Why, lass, of course I am. I'm here to see my good friend Saul!"

The raised a brow in a very Vulcanish manner. "We're very busy right now, plus you can't enter without escort. I'm sure Ensign Bental would rather you see you off duty."

George put a hand on his chest, "My dear, this is personal business I'm sure he wants to hear right away!"

George passed the woman, and almost immediately spotted Saul Bental. The man, wearing casual cloths instead of a uniform, was approaching the Japanese officer.

"Nyoko, I need to--"

George took a wild leap hoping this was Saul, "Saul buddy!" He slapped Saul's back a bit hard and loudly stated, "My friend, we must talk!"

Immediately, the Intelligence officer stepped back sharply, out of Kastanza's reach. "Ensign, I have no idea who you are, and unless it's urgent I'd rather find that out only six hours from now when I'm done here."

Kastanza thought a moment. If he waited, he'd likely go to Nara and she'd tell him it all wasn't true. Well this was an intelligence department, and George definitely had some. Maybe not the kind they wanted, let alone needed, but they didn't need to know that. "Well, buddy ol pal, I have some very interesting information for you."

Saul maintained an uninterested, slightly arrogant posture. Inside, however, he was curious. The man wanted to deliver him information. It could by anything from an 'ingenious' proposal for a new Intelligence gadget to a business proposal to the missing puzzle piece in the Hydran money trail enigma. Well, it won't cost him Latinum to at least hear the man.

"Nyoko, I'll take the escort on this guy.", Saul said. The Japanese officer pouted at Kastanza, as though saying 'I still think I'm right mister, you just caught Saul on a very good mood', and went elsewhere.

Saul lead Kastanza into a door adjacent to the entrance. It was a small room, with two spartan chairs and a single circular table. It was meant for meetings just like this one - when a guest comes to the Intelligence department, but there is no reason to actually let him in where all the classified materials are available for any curious set of eyes.

Saul sat on one of the chairs, resting his feet on the table sloppily.

"Go ahead, I'm listenning, Mr..."

George sat, "George Kastanza at your service. There's a pretty young thing we both know. She goes by the name of Naranda..." Oh what was her last name. Something about a well? Ah, "Roswell."

Saul simply nodded. A thought crossed his mind - what if this person, who might be from security or engineering, somehow intercepted his conversation with Grok the Ferengi? Then again, if that was the case, then the confrontation would have taken place a long time ago. What is the piece of information, then?

"I hear she comes to see you? Am I correct?" George mocked.

Saul shrugged his shoulders. "You sound like you know the answer. Get to the point."

George smirked at the man, "She comes to see me too. I dont know if you've gotten her to go very far, but I'm here to tell you..." He leaned in to whisper, "If you hadn't, you have no idea what you're missing!"

Saul slowly moved his gaze from the ceiling to George's receding hairline. Despite the indifferent appearance, his mind was racing. This man came all the way down to the CIC just to tell Saul that Nara was involved with him as well. If that's the case, then...

"Explain to me again, why did you come to tell me that? Are you going to ask me to give her up, or to fight over her? I still don't see your point."

George sat back, "I'm not sure what's up with you and her. If you don't care, then I suggest you let Nara know so me and her can move on. If you do care, I'm here to tell you that there's not much fighting can do. We do great together. Or rather, we do each other great." He smirked.

"Well, I happen to be one of those who don't steal other people's girlfriends." Saul replied, shifting position on the chair. Well, he truly never stole anyone's girlfriend, but he didn't steal any available women either.

"BUT you know, I somehow get the feeling that this isn't the case. If the two of you were truly involved, then Nara wouldn't come to see me, you know? She's not that kind of girl."

George snorted, "Do you know that for a fact then? Do you know she also sees Miramon and Klaus?"

"Besides, if you've gotten far with her." Saul interjected, "You HAVE to know about the mark. You know what? If you know about the mark, then I'll go and tell her that she can date only one guy at a time, and back off. Do you know about the mark, George?"

George looked blindsided for a moment and caught himself and nearly choking, yet trying to sound matter of fact, nodded, "Of course."

"Is that so?" It didn't take an Intelligence officer specializing in interrogations and body language reading to spot a liar. "Then what is its shape? And where is it located?"

George's throat suddenly went dry as his mind raced to figure out an answer. Then he got an idea and shot back, "And how do YOU know about the mark?" He sat back feeling pretty proud of himself. "I don't believe I should tell you. She's pretty private about it. I had to convince her it was beautiful so she'd not be self-conscious about it in bed."

Saul grinned. "Well, you can guess how I know about the mark. It's not like she's going everywhere and telling people about it. Last chance man, before I call your bluff."

George narrowed his eyes. This little man was really annoying him. "Fine." He scratched his almost bald head, "It's on her left bun. A brown thing the shape of a snake head."

Before the words finished rolling off George's tounge, Saul broke into uncontrolled laughter. He was laughing so hard that pretty soon he found himself on the floor somehow.

George looked at him flustered, "What is so funny!?"

The Intelligence officer in front of him was trying to restrain the laughter, nearly choking. "Oh, you DO realize I made that 'mark' thing up, right? Maybe she does have a distinguishing birthmark somewhere, but I wouldn't know it since I never saw her naked, and probably neither did you. I don't know why you're trying to trash Naranda's good name by telling me she's a slut, but I know better."

George tried hard to keep it on, "If you never saw her, how would you know? For your information, she DOES have a mark!"

Saul's hand hovered over his commbadge. "So you wouldn't object if I contacted her and asked her if she indeed has a mark, right?"

George jumped up, "I told you man! She's very private about it! She'll hang me if she knew I told you!" It was suddenly very hot in the room.

"Wouldn't she hang you for going to me and telling me she was messing around with you, with Ensign Terrik and with Doctor Fienberg?"

George tried to speak, but kept choking. "I....I....YOU!!!! She.." He was now sweating like a pig.

Saul slowly rose from the chair. He suddenly looked very weary, and tired. "Listen, George, you've wasted enough of our time. If you don't have enough free time to play with... kaki... then I would love to ask your superior to give you more interesting work. That should get you off playing children's game."

"Why does everyone threaten me with going to my superior!" George stated when he finally got his voice.

"Probably because your mother is too far away." Saul muttered beneath his breath. More loudly, he said "You know where the exit is.", and without waiting to hear George's answer left the office.

George looked at where Saul stood very put off. He walked out the door past the other officers with a red face and wondering if he had convinced Saul.

"Hunter's New Prey"

Ensign 8-ball Hunter
Ensign Saul Bental

The funny thing was, 8-ball went to school with the guy. She saw him in the corridors occasionally. She had even ended up in a memory from years ago with him. Now, when 8-ball really wanted to find Saul Bental, she seemed to have no luck running into him.

Until one day, one sunny, shining day (or would have been if they had been on a planet near a sun) 8-ball ran into Saul in the hallway on her way to the holodeck. The Intelligence officer was glancing at some sort of report, apparently oblivious to the approaching trouble.

8-ball smiled to herself. Mischief was fun.

Awhile ago, she had met Nara Something-Or-Other in ten-forward and promised to mess with Saul's mind a little on Nara's behalf. Though the girl probably didn't even remember such an impulsive promise, 8-ball did and fully planned on carrying through. After all, it sounded like fun.

She walked straight up to Saul, who had been, until that moment, not aware of her. "Hi," she said to him. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Inconsistency in Hydran-related credits flow and several intercepted communication." He grinned at her, "And what is yours?"

8-ball inwardly sighed. She kept forgetting that Saul was one of those clever males (there were so few of them) and was therefore less likely to start stammering and stuttering the second any young woman started yelling at them. This was annoying. After all, 8-ball figured that God made men dumb for a reason. Besides, it made her job to freak him out harder, and 8-ball tended to disapprove of any extra effort on her part doing anything.

"You, at the moment," 8-ball snapped at him. "I've been talking to a certain friend of yours recently. A nice, young, very attractive woman who seems ever so slightly unhappy with you and your masculine, egotistical, utterly testosterone filled lack of ability to commit."

Saul blinked. This was totally unpredictable. Not there was anything expectable in being yelled at by the Chief Anthropologist.

And if that's not enough, he wasn't sure to which nice, young, and very attractive woman she was referring. The 'Unhappy' part matched Nara more closely than Branwen, but he was not going to take the risk. If he would give her the wrong name, she probably would impale him on some Vulcan spear or something.

"She didn't ask me to commit..." Saul said carefully, "And even if she did, it would probably be a mistake. I'm not the kind of person you can rely on."

Saul sighed. Admittedly, that was true. His other dealings, both Intel-related and agenda-related, would probably cast a shadow on any relationship. Not that it would prevent him from having one, being a romantic guy. His inexperience with women will be in charge of THAT job.

"What's in it for you, anyway?", He inquired.

8-ball raised an eyebrow. For a second there or two, she had been starting to feel a little bad for Saul. He looked all lonely and pathetic, saying he was unreliable. Then, remembering how ALL guys she had ever met used that kind of excuse as for reason for a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of relationship, she pushed away all sympathy.

"You make it sound like I'm getting a profit out of this," 8-ball said, pretending to be hurt. "Can't a girl just want to see that everybody is happy and loving and married by Valentine's Day?"

"Actually, she can." Saul said softly, a smile emerging on his face. "And I appreciate it, even if I don't celebrate Valentine's."

Then, a scary thought crossed his mind. What if 8-Ball was asking because SHE had an interest in Saul? She never showed any interest in the past, not on the Academy and definetly not during his time on the Galaxy, but still these matters of the heart were often kept within the walls of the soul, unseen by the universe outside...

Saul shook his head, to drive the scary thought away. There was no way 8-Ball was referring to herself. If there was the slightest chance, Saul would already run away screaming like a little Ferengi girl seeing a Tax collector for the first time.

8-ball raised an eyebrow. For a moment, an expression of pure terror had passed over Saul's face, and she had an idea why but decided not to pursue it. She'd never get anywhere if she did that. Instead, she got back to her original agenda.

"Well, you're right," 8-ball said. "I do have my own ulterior motives. I'm only here as a courtesy, mind you. I know you and Nara have something going, and I'd like her to be happy, so if you can get your act together and make her happy, then that's fine. However, if you're going to be the typical male and promise lots of nice, happy things EVENTUALLY and in the meantime refuse to make any sort of commitment and act like a total ass. . .then I'll just have to see to it that Nara's happy in somebody else's arms." She smirked. "Preferably mine."

So that was it, Saul thought. She was referring to Nara, and she had something 'on' the Engineer. She never gave any sign of being... like that... during the Academy, although she did have a reputation of a rather naughty cadet.

And yet.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," 8-ball said, "I'm not. Nara's a pretty good looking girl, and my luck with men of late hasn't been noticeably high. And just because YOU might be terrified of the idea of dating me, doesn't mean other people are."

"I didn't...!"

"Yeah, I saw that look. I think Nara's ready for someone who can do something more than just thrust, rinse, repeat, and let's be honest here, I'll bet all the latinum I've ever seen that I'm a touch more experienced than you." 8-ball smiled. "Nara still wants you, of course, but she isn't going to wait around forever, so if you don't get your act together then I'll step in instead. And trust me, Saul, I really can work wonders with women who are tired of men."

"I'll keep that in mind." Saul murmured, and only years' experience of controlling his body language spared him from blushing.

8-ball smiled wider and then impulsively kissed Saul on the cheek. "It's been fun talking with you!" she said cheerfully. "We should do it again soon!" She gave him a quick wave and said walked off down the corridor, grinning ear to ear.

"I am not terrified of the idea of d.. dating you!" Saul shouted after her.

8-ball stopped dead in the corridor and her wide smile turned into an evil grin. Granted, this wasn't part of the mission, but how could she resist something like that?

8-ball turned around. "Prove it," she said.

"You just want Nara to be jealous, aren't you?" Saul shot back, undaunted.

But the mischievous anthropologist was already out of sight.

The Intelligence officer moaned. First Kastanza, now 8-Ball. Someone was massing an assault on him. If only they knew - if only Nara knew - why he was so reluctant about making an actual move on the attractive Engineer..

If only he knew...

8-ball turned the corner and rubbed her hands in an evil, gloating manner. "My work is done," she said to herself, and went off to celebrate in the holodeck.

"My boyfriend !!!!"
 
2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London
 
Ensign Saul Bental

The mission was finally over.  Now Bran had some time for herself.  It had been a while since she had seen Saul. Yet she had been thinking about him, and the fact that Nara had been so vague about it.  It was something she wanted to find out more about, what was the connection between those two. Who was he really, and did they fit together.  Bran was still in love. Love at first sight something she had never thought she would experience herself.  It made her happy, happier than she had ever been in her life.

Now she stood in front of her tiny wardrobe, trying to pick out an outfit. She wanted to do and surprise Saul, not that she had any idea of what to do together, and when it came to it neither of what to wear.
 
Her subject of thoughts was, at the moment, on the holodeck. Saul Bental never liked holographic recreations. As much as they imitated reality, and as much as they gave you a sense of reality, it just wasn't real.
 
Saul preferred to travel days and even weeks in space in order to reach a particular acquatic planet, for example, rather than recreating its oceans on a holodeck with the wave of a hand.
 
But assuming he wasn't going to take her anywhere public, fearing that Nara might see them, the holodeck was his best choice.
 
He didn't know why he was concerned about Nara knowing he was meeting Bran, since the two of them weren't involved or even dating... but deep inside, he felt rotten about it.
 
And then there was Bran. She was a woman of contrasts. A naive psychologist, and a vulnerable Marine... something just didn't fit. It was Saul's profession to identify people's nature, and in Branwen's case it was not easy.
 
Well, that's why he was going to meet her, no? To get to know her, and to give her a chance to know him - and escape once she realizes what a mistake it was to regard him, Saul Bental, as her knight in shiny armour.
 
Finally having decided on something simple, and arranging her hair the way she liked it.  Branwen arrived at the holodeck. Her heart was beating wildly, this was her first official date with a guy, and she wanted everything to be perfect tonight.
 
As she entered, she found herself on the rim of a seaport in the middle of an ocean. The seaport, as far as her eyes could see, was a kilometer in diameter. Its central part was part submerged, part above the water, and around it there was the rim on which the two of them stood, and to which two dozens of small hovercrafts were attached.
 
The rim was spotted with benches, cargo crates and ropes. Narrow catwalks attached it to the central part. Saul was sitting on one of the benches, the descending orange sun giving his face a slightly dark shade.
 
"Welcome to Quala Nyestro, Bran.." Saul said as soon as he heard the arch close behind him.

She gave a little gasp. "It's perfect, Saul."  Then again she would have expected him to pick something perfect.  "As a child one of my few joys was to watch the sea."  She gave him a dazzling smile.  "How did you guess."
 
"I didn't..."
 
In fact, Saul tried to avoid making it look like a date. In fact, he dismissed several other locations which he thought of as romantic before selecting this one. He chose it mostly because it was relaxing, but not too Kitschy.
 
Well, he failed.
 
"I love the ocean myself, too.", he admitted. "Whenever I get a shore leave, I usually try to find a location where I could sail or row a kanoo. I spent a week here during my voyage from Utrecht III to earth. The ocean on this planet is spotted with marinas. It's amazing how a non-acquatic culture can sustain itself only on resources provided by the ocean and underwater minning..."
 
Saul caught himself - he was not here to lecture about sea-life, as much as it interested him.

"Fascinating.  That is what I like.  You see, something else we have in common."  She smiled.  "So, what do you have planned for us do today?"
 
"Nothing really." Saul admitted, "I just thought this would be a more... easy... environment to meet than ten forward or one of the observation lounges. Of course, there are the various activities the seaport offers - we can take advantage of those once I bore you."

“I don’t think you will bore me.” Bran sat down. “Tell me more about yourself, Saul. You know more about me then I do about you, I think.”
 
"What fair is far, but first..." Saul made an odd sound, and then a round, metallic ball floated out of one of the center's windows, and headed toward them. It came to a stop just next to Saul head, bobbing up and down in mid-air.
 
"Robotic waiters - the kind that doesn't take tips. I will have a Terran orange juice, please."
 
Bran laughed delighted. “Fantastic.”She said. “The same for me, please.”
 
The robotic waiter floated back to the center to deliver their orders, and Saul looked at Branwen once again. "So what would you like to know?"

“Anything you want to share. Your hobbies, your past, anything.” She looked at him.
 
Saul scratched his chin. Which parts of him did he want her to know? Well, hobbies were certainly easier than the past.
 
"Let's see.Other than sailing, I'm an avid fan of strategy games. In fact, I just recruited an officer to the secondary Intelligence squad - which I lead
- by losing to her in a strategy game! Other than that... I like to travel, it's part of the reason I joined Starfleet. I can also talk for hours about history and politics, and... ummmm, and I'm fascinated by exotic alien pets, but hey - we're all allowed at least one perverse hobby..."

“I love strategy games, we did them for officer training.” She said, “I am not too bad at them myself. And I love to travel and see new places. So what is it like to work in Intel?”
 
"It's amazing. It's an entire universe. When most people hear 'Intelligence' they imagine this secret agent conspiring and working undercover, potentially with a trail of admiring girls following his trail, and with a set of super advanced gadgets hidden in his coat."
 
Saul chuckled inwardly. As far as the gadgets and even the girls thing were concerned, he wasn't far from the Intel stereotype.
 
"But the truth is that the better parts of the job are using your mind. Most of the Intelligence officers are responsible for gather, processing or researching the Intelligence, instead of playing superheros. You have a sea of details, and you have to fish those important parts which will aid the commander make the right decisions. For example, we were the first to realize that the Danner's Fold freighter was carrying weapons instead of what its official papers claimed, just by piecing together several puzzle parts."
 
'Well, aren't you full of yourself.' Saul concluded in his mind.
 
"It Sounds interesting.  Do you know why so many people seem to dislike intelligence, I know my sister does."

"Because", Saul gave her a mysterious grin, "We're always have ulterior motives..."
 
"don't we all." Bran answered.
 
"And what is it like to be a marine? And a psychologist to add to all that?"

"It is a challenge.  I love being a marine, and I love being a psychologist. How to mix the two, I think I am getting there.  I have already made some friends on the ship, and the Navy is starting to trust me, they have already assigned one naval patient to me."  That was something bran was very proud of.
 
"Navy", Saul asked, mildly surprised.
 
"Yes, remember the two branches of Starfleet."  She teased him.  "Navy and marine."
 
"It's just that I never regarded myself as a naval officer... I mean, unlike the Naval powers of, say, 18th. century earth, Starfleet is the main organized force of the Federation, not just a branch. I don't know."

"Maybe you guys see it that way.  For us it's like we have to prove ourselves over and over again.  For me in a new profession for a marine it's even more difficult.  I will have to work very hard.  Fortunately I like a challenge."  She looked at him.  "I still find it so amazing how you came into my life."
 
"Me too."
 
And it was true. Deep beneath the layers of the street boy, cunning merchant and secretive Intelligence Officer, lay a soul which was still a fool for princess and dragons. Even though he hated to admitted it, the role he took in Branwen's dream - that of a protecting knight - touched him in a very deep way.
 
The question was, would the knight in the shiny armor survive the clash with reality.
 
"I wouldn't call it a sign from heaven.", he said, gazing into her brown eyes, "But there must've been some sense behind the 'casting' in the dreams.
My own dreams were very symbolic - with a path linking between them, a path which eventually lead me... somewhere interesting. So it can't be totally random."

"To me it was a sign from heaven."  She leaned closer.  "I've never had a boyfriend, never fell in love, and there you were, you were perfect.  I think God must have meant something with it."  Her fingers brushed his as she gazed into his eyes.
 
"Branwen..."
 
Part of him wanted to break away, to power a bucket of ice-cold reality over the marine's head. Another part wanted to lean forward, and just kiss her gently on the lips and to hell with the implications.
 
"You do realize I'm a Jew.", he suddenlly found himself saying, "And a very unreligious one... My only faith is that our own actions is the only thing that can bring us success or failure. Or love. The rest... is incidential."

“I ran away from home because of intolerance. I am still a very religious person, Saul. But I will accept anyone if they will me.” It was not completely true but he didn’t have to know everything straight away. “I believe a higher being brought us together but you can believe what you think.” She came even closer. “You are special, that is all that matters.”
 
Saul patted her hair. He inhaled deeply. A thought surfaced in his mind - Branwen smelt different than Nara, and her odur was now mixed with the simulated smell of the sea around them, rich with salt and chemicals.
 
This was wrong, and yet this was so right. Saul was torn inside, and he knew that the longer he'll remain unresolved, the worse it will get.
 
Suddenlly there was something in his throat. He turned his head away sharply, and caughed several times.
 
"Sorry."
 
"What is it?"  Bran asked gently.  "Does this make you nervous?"

"No." The correct answer was 'yes', of course, but the cough had nothing to do with it. Somewhere in the back of his mind Saul suddenlly felt like he was forgetting something important, but that though faded as he set eyes on Branwen again.
 
"You're really pretty, you know that Lieutenant?" He asked without early warnning, his voice shivering slightly.
 
"So are you, sir."  She leaned even closer and brushed her lips against his.

The sensation was incredible. They only touched gently, and for a short while, but in Saul's mind these few moments lasted for decaded. His heart races, free from all the chains of self disciplene.
 
When they finally broke apart, he opened his eyes and forced a sly grin, which would be the easiest expression for him at any normal day.
 
"'sir'?"

"You called me Lieutenant."  She teased him.  Branwen didn't want this moment to end.  She crawled closer to him and put her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder.  She felt completely at ease sitting there with him watching the sea.

Saul took a deep breath once again, and smiled. The wramth of the body so close to him was very comforting, and he tightened his own hold slightly, feeling her even closer. There was something extremly selfish at what he was doing, he knew, on the border of taking advantage. But this woman next to him, although naive and fragile in the eyes of a random bystander, was a mature young woman, and an officer, which could make her own decisions.
 
If she decided to get close to him before finding out into what trouble she was getting, it was her own right.
 
His fingers ran through her hair, and as his gaze wandered back to the horizion, he suddenlly realized when and where was the last time he sat next to a beautiful girl and watched the sunset, although that last time they didn't hug.
 
It was back on Sakaria, with Nara.

"I think I'm going to like having a boyfriend.  I never thought I would be able to do this before I met you."  She confessed.
 
"Are you kidding? You are nice, you are smart and you are good looking. If the Galaxy wasn't loaded with supermodels, you would've been grabbed by one of the other guys the moment you set your foot on the deck."
 
Well, that didn't come out too good, did it?
 
Then, the full details of Bran's last sentence sank in.
 
"Also... I think we should take it slow, you know? You barely know me, I don't think I earned a 'boyfriend' status yet." Saul added, trying to sound coherent witohut much success.

“Why not? You saved me from my father. Nobody ever dared do that. And as a bonus you are kind, handsome, intelligent. I don’t know why Nara tried to put me off you.” It just slipped out. “That’s my roommate.”
 
Saul paled slightly, and coughed again. This time, it was nervous cough. A milisecond later, his instincts caught up with him and he assumed a calm facial expression.
 
"I know Nara, of course. I even went with her to her home on Sakaria - it's a very nice place, although it is torn by a bloody war. She loves it very much even though she isn't Sakarian herself. I had some business there. We've been in contact ever since."

“So you guys are friends, why would she warn me against you then?” Bran asked puzzled while she stayed comfortable in his arms.
 
"What did she say?"

“She wouldn’t say anything specific. She was really vague.”” Bran looked at him. “You guys… you guys are not more then just friends, are you?”
 
"Honest answer?"
 
“Of course.” Bran looked at him.
 
Saul sighed. It was against his nature to tell the truth in this case, but holding her in his arms like that, and the trust she expressed, prevented him from lying to her blatantly. Instead, he did what he was a professional at - giving only a small portal to the truth, one which provided the view Saul wanted to give.
 
"She is not an ex-girlfriend, if that's what you're asking." He told Bran.
 
“I do sense a but.” She said quietly.

"No buts." Saul lied, "We're simply quite good at confusing each other."
 
She smiled happily. “So nothing stands in the way of you becoming my boyfriend.” She kissed him again.

Saul wanted to bury himself. Not only that he didn't determine, inwardly, which of the two truly astounding women he preferred, he also needed to keep Nara's trust for very selfish reasons, at least until they reach Trill.
 
With the lack of anything better to say or do, Saul simply remained silent and gazed stoicly ahead.

Bran in the meantime was blissfully happy in his arms still cuddled around him. “My sister will not believe this. She is despairing that I would ever fall in love. I told her I would wait for the perfect man. You will like her I am sure of it.”
 
Saul simply nodded in despair. At this point he just hoped the marine won't pop up a wedding ring...
 
Bran began to kiss him more intensly now, trying to feel under his shirt. As soon as he felt her fingers on his skin, and against a part of himself which was eager to see where will she lead them next, Saul stood up.
 
"Branwen... I almsot forgot the new shift scheduele - I have to go or they'll think I went AWOL. I'll... talk to you tomorrow?"
 
"Of course we will talk tomorrow." She was still in the seventh heaven. "I love you." She whispered as he left.

"In The Wrong Profession"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control Officer

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

Miramon’s Quarters

Miramon had literally just dropped himself onto his bed and closed his eyes when he heard the door chime go off. He mouthed a silent curse, but sat up all the same. "Computer, Lights!" The lights activated in the room and the Bajoran blinked slightly as his eyes spent a moment readjusting to the sudden illumination. He stood up and headed for the door. "Come in!" he said quietly.

Nara looked at Miramon and smiled weakly, "Hey. Am I interrupting anything?"

Miramon shook his head and motioned for the Engineer to step in. "Come on in, Nara."

Nara walked in and turned to look at him, "I might seem awfully silly, but I wanted to talk about what happened in 10-4ward. Saul isn't talking to me."

The Bajoran nodded and collapsed onto the couch, indicating that Nara was welcome to do the same. "Yeah, I figured as much. Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Hot Chocolate?"

Nara paced, "No thanks." She finally sat on a chair opposite. "Have you seen him since you've been back?"

He shook his head negatively. "Alas, no, I haven't. What's going on this time, huh?"

She sighed, "He won't talk to me. I try to go to his quarters and....He's avoiding me." Nara leaned back, "He probably saw that note before I was able to delete it."

"What note?"

"Bran was telling me how she met her imaginary friend, and somehow it was Saul and how she's so in love and has a boyfriend." She leaned forward, "She has NO idea!" Nara shook her head, "I sent him a note with a sarcastic sounding congratulations and a warning that if he hurt her, I'd give him a vasectomy. Or something." Nara winced and put a hand to her head, "I don't know if I'm jealous or worried he's going to hurt her."

Miramon raised an eyebrow. "He mentioned the whole thing with her when we were talking about the Memories, but he's not said anything to me since then. And I don't know. I'd say you're not worried, otherwise you'd be talking to her and not me. Or perhaps you'd be in the middle of dismantling the locks on Saul's door and then throttling him."

Nara grinned at that last thought, "Oh I've been tempted." She stood and paced again. "It's all of those really. I told her to be careful. To get to really know him before she gets her hopes up. I'm also telling myself the same thing." She sat again, "I just thought there was something between us. That chemistry thing." She shook her head, "I was wrong. Maybe he's just a charmer and I let it mean more than it did."

"Or maybe it means more than you're currently thinking as you talk yourself out of it. Think of that?"

Nara looked at him strangely, "Oddly enough, that made sense." She smiled. "But I don't want it to mean anything. I don't WANT to have any feelings for him. He obviously doesn't want me to. He doesn't even seem to want to be my friend."

Miramon chuckled softly there. He had the reverse of that story. "Or maybe he's avoiding you because he feels the same and doesn't either think he's got a chance in hell or is just extremely nervous, and doesn't want to face you and screw things up. I hate to sound like the old man here, but trust me, he's not shutting you out because he doesn't like you. I can tell you that much."

Nara narrowed her eyes, "You men are all....dorks."

"What makes you say that?" he asked with a slight smile on his face. Nara likely hadn't anything to say, so just added that to break the conversation slightly, so she didn't leave the conversation so open. He was a little amused by her last comment - very much reminiscent of his sister's thoughts on the subject, too.

"Well you guys always say women are complicated, but you don't see me....." Nara was about to say something about seeing her do the same thing, but she was. "I am. I'm doing the same thing. I don't want to accept how I feel about him because I'm scared he'll hurt me." She furrowed her brow, "And he will. Look what he's doing to Bran; leading her on like that."

"He might not be leading her on, Nara. I don't think he knows what he is doing, the Prophets give him strength. But then, neither do you. In a different way."

Nara leaned her elbow on the arm of the chair and put her chin on her hand, thinking. "Love stinks."

Miramon smiled broadly at that. "I couldn't say. But relax. My experience suggests thing'll work themselves out one way or another. Either he'll turn to you and you'll end up hitting it off, or he'll turn to her, in which case, he's taken and you can leave it alone and get back to living peacefully."

She looked at him, "Can I?"

The Bajoran shook his head, his smile disappearing to be replaced with a look of curious concern. He leaned forward and tapped Nara on the back of her hand. "Nara, you've known him for a very short amount of time. These things strike quickly and you recover from them quickly enough. Kinda like the Terran cold, but without the sneezing."

"Well what till then? I can't let this end without him knowing how I may feel." Nara couldn't believe she was even thinking of talking to Saul about it. She wasn't sure HOW she felt. She just wanted to give him a chance to let her trust him.

"I can't give you any advice beyond that one, Nara. You probably know more about these things than I do. I'm merely the impartial observer in this one."

Nara sat back and smiled to him. "Thanks."

Miramon shrugged. "No problem. All part of being a Starfleet Officer, this counseling stuff."

Nara rolled her eyes, "My mom's a counselor."

Miramon raised his eyebrows curiously. "You've got family in Starfleet?"

"Both parents. Dad's an anthropologist." She stated simply.

"My parents both live on Bajor, with my sister. They don't even like Starfleet or didn't until the Emissary was found to be a Federation officer."

Nara smiled, "Interesting. Strange how common people can be seen at such high esteem by some people."

Miramon nodded. "Well, it'd be the same with Humans and a prophet of God, or something like that. He's as close as most Bajorans get to the Prophets, before death."

Nara looked at him. She felt like he knew her, but he had only seen a few of her memories. He didn't know the whole story. Do Bajorans have warrior heroes?"

"No. We're mostly a peaceful race. We only fought during the Occupation and Dominion War out of necessity." The Bajoran looked contemplative for a moment - his assessment was true, but given the past few decades, was it really true of them now? But still, they were full Federation members now, so it wasn't as though they needed to fight any longer.

"Sakaria was attacked once, and while we don't put emphasis on training warriors like the Klingon Empire, we do make sure we have them ready. Now there's just a civil war." Nara wondered how the peace talks were going now. She subconsciously twisted her hair in her fingers as she thought about it.

"Have you been back there recently?" Miramon asked, curious. He'd never heard of Sakaria.

She looked at him, "Remember the memories about the battle and the interrogation? That was only about a year ago. About 6 months before I got this assignment." She smiled, "Then a few months ago when we went on shore leave. I went home, which was in a safe zone. You saw that one too." The smile faded, "The one with Saul by the tree."

"So not quite as vicious as one would have thought from the interrogation. I hope never to visit that planet."

Nara frowned, "It's really a beautiful place. Most people are wonderful. In every people, there are people who want more power than they should have. I'm from Sakaria. Am I so bad?" Nara smiled hoping he didn't think she was.

The Bajoran shook his head. "No, but you do have an angry streak. Doesn't take a Betazoid to see that."

Nara smiled, "Oh. That's the human blood. Well, Betazoids get angry too, I’m sure. I know my mom does. Especially at Dad."

"Your mother is Betazoid?" Terrik was one of those people not used to people of half-blood. After all, there were very few Bajorans that married members of other races, so it was an unusual thing to see on the Home world.

Nara laughed, "My mother is Betazoid. My father is Terran. So blood wise, I'm half Betazoid and half Terran. I was raised Sakarian." Nara wondered what he would think of that.

Miramon looked thoughtful at that one. "You have three heritages to draw upon, then?"

"If I choose to."

The Bajoran smiled and sat further back on the couch. That was interesting, certainly. However, they were deviating from their original topic quite significantly, so he thought it might be a good idea to try and catch the woman off-guard and see what she came out with. "So, what's your next move with Saul?"

"Next move?" Nara sighed, "Well, I'm not sure there IS a next move. What about Branwen?"

"Well, what about her?"

"Saul apparently has her thinking he wants to date her. What's she gonna think if I....I dunno, go after him? I'm not even sure I want to go after him. Yet it bugs me thinking I can't."

"Well, what would you do if it went the other way?"

"What other way?"

"Well, if Branwen ended up going after Saul? What would you do, or think?"

"She likes Saul. Since I don't even want to acknowledge how I feel about him, what right do I have?"

"Well, what right does she have to prevent you expressing your feelings, Nara?" he asked. Inevitably, to his mind, they were all free individuals, and it wasn't as though Saul didn't possess feelings for Nara - or had the potential to, anyway.

"She doesn't. She doesn't even know how I feel." Nara laughed, "I think I got her worried about me actually."

"How?"

"She was asking me about it and I said I just didn't know how to feel. I told her she can date him if she wants, but to be careful not to get hurt."

"Sounds like you were giving her permission to run over your feelings." he observed. "You know, maybe that's not such a bad thing. This has been bugging you a lot, clearly. Maybe you need out."

Nara looked confused, "Knowing Bran, as little as I do, she'd step out if I asked her to. Maybe. I don't want to do that to her. Out of what?"

Miramon shrugged. "This whole thing with Saul. You two almost had a good argument in Ten Forward. And it's clearly getting you down."

Nara mumbled something. "I just miss him."

"Yeah, but why? How bothered do you think he is?"

Nara frowned, "Well likely not at all." She leaned forward, "Why does he get all flustered sometimes when we talk though?"

"You may just find he's aware of your feelings. Or maybe there's something involved that neither of us know about. I don't know."

"I just keep thinking about that bomb. I can't let it go."

"Bomb? What bomb?" He thought about it for a moment, then remembered what Nara had said in the memory jump. "Oh, THAT bomb! Why didn't you ask him about it?"

"I did. He claims it was something the creature brought in or some memory shifting thing."

Miramon frowned. "Your tone says you don't believe that, or aren't willing to accept the possibility."

"I wish it were the creature. That would be simple. I also know better. It was uncharactistic of this creature. It plays with our minds, and not once other than that did it place an explosion or cause pain other than what was already in our or other's memories."

"Now you're speculating. You can't base certainties regarding the actions of the creature you sensed based only upon the things we experienced. In your case, you did experience the explosion. Because others did not is not sufficient evidence for you to say that it did not. And to make the leap from there to suggest that Saul was somehow responsible is really unjustified."

She crossed her arms and sat back pouting, "You sound like a Vulcan!"

The Bajoran looked extremely serious as he spoke, though his voice did nothing to indicate annoyance or anger at Nara's assumptions, merely a sense of concern. "Besides which, I don't see Saul wanting to cause you harm. And until I grow points on my ears, you'll have to take it as being typical Bajoran common sense. Call me old if you wish, but you can't go accusing people of things like that without the appropriate evidence to back it up."

Nara sighed, "I've never been very feminine. I mean I'm a girl and there are just natural things that come with that, like emotions." Nara laughed as she was sure he had seen evidence of that now. "I've never been frilly feminine though. So why when I'm with him, I feel all..." She couldn't think of the words.

"Feel all what?" The Bajoran wasn't a mind-reader, nor was he empathic, so this clearly required a little prompting on his part.

She let out a breath and took another, "Like a princess. That's what he calls me."

Miramon smiled and sat back in his chair. "So why worry about what happened in these memory jumps? Do your feelings not come first?"

She still didn't smile, "But he's someone else's knight."

Narrowing his eyes, Terrik looked a little confused, trying to sift through his memory to try and work that one out. Knight was not a term he was familiar with. Eventually he just gave up and looked at Nara with an exasperated by slightly amused expression. "Okay, you're gonna have to clear that one up for me."

Nara realized knights were mainly an earth thing. "Well, in medieval times on earth, knights were like warriors. They fought to protect the King or Queen and their land. They were noblemen. Branwen apparently had an imaginary friend and during the memory jumps, I can only guess that when Saul appeared, she thought it was her imaginary friend. I can only speculate on that. She didn't really explain anything other than her imaginary friend was Saul."

"So what does this have to do with you and Saul, precisely?"

"I'll be the evil queen that keeps them apart."

"Why would you do that? Are you sure they want to be together?"

"Right now Branwen is up the wall crazy about him."

"And Saul?"

"He's not exactly an open book, remember?"

Miramon nodded. "I know this. But has he not said anything yet? Has this Branwen woman said anything?"

Nara sat back with arms still crossed and now crossing her legs, "Branwen told me all about how she's so excited. Saul has said nothing."

"So we're stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the human expression goes. What's your plan?"

Nara looked at him, "Plan?"

He looked slightly confused at that one. "Well...yeah. You do have a plan, right?"

"To what? Break them apart? I'm not like that."

"Well, until Saul says so, they're not really together, are they?"

"No. I need to find someway to tell him how I feel." She looked shocked, "Do you realize how incredibly frightening that is!" She blurted out. She then laughed, "I've run head first into battle. I've smarted off in interrogations knowing full well it would likely be a deadly blow. And the thing that terrifies me is talking to Saul."

Miramon smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Not to worry. I'm still shy around women myself. Hard habit to break unless you're married."

"So how do I tell him?"

"I suppose you just go up to him and be honest. Delaying will only prolong things, and if he's not yet in a relationship with Branwen, you may miss the opportunity to tell him and do something about it before he does, if you don't see fit to act quickly."

She sighed, "I'm beginning to hate when you're right."

Smiling, the Bajoran couldn't help but be amused by that one. "Well, treasure that. It's a thing of rare beauty."

Nara nodded and smiled, "And so modest to boot."

"Hardly. But seriously, you better talk to him before you miss your chance. Which means you ought to be knocking on his door instead of throwing observations on my personality at me."

"Are you kicking me out?"

Miramon laughed. "Yes, absolutely."

Nara stood and looked at the door, "I still have no idea what I should say." She turned back to Miramon, "Should I like, take a gift or something?"

"I dunno. Might make up for the clear signs of nervousness, the underlying suspicions and the general paranoia..."

She frowned, "I have given him a hard time. What could I bring him though?"

Miramon shook his head with a warm smile curling his face. "I was kidding. You'll probably put him really off-guard if you do that, so I'd just go as you are, right now and have a word with him. Be nice."

Nara put a nail in her mouth. She wasn't a nail-biter, but suddenly she was very nervous.

"Stop doing that! You'll only make yourself more nervous!" he snapped. "Get a grip of yourself here, Nara."

Nara's eyes were big as she got more and more scared, "Just jump in there shooting." She told herself. "Works for battles."

Standing up, Miramon stretched a little, then looked down at Nara, who was beginning to look more and more hesitant by the second. He sighed a little, then lowered his voice a little so it didn't sound as harsh. "Look, go and see Saul before you make yourself more nervous and miss your opportunity altogether. You'll only regret it later if you don't."

Nara gave one last look at Miramon, "O....K." She stepped out the door and stood at the threshold staring at the corridor. Suddenly she forgot where she was or how to get to Saul's quarters.

As Nara left and headed out the door, waiting until it had finally hissed closed behind the woman, Miramon completely dropped back down onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. "If I wanted to spend my time talking about things like this, I'd have signed up to be a Counselor instead of a pilot."

"Mental Taxis and Top Ten Lists"

by
Lt. Jasmine Heloi
Vanguard Executive Officer

[Jasmine's Quarters]

She blinked in the sudden brightness of her quarters as she stepped through the door. The light did not help the massive migraine that she still was suffering thanks to the events on the freighter. Being driven insane was not exactly on her top ten list of things to do before she died. Then again, neither was loosing her mental shields among a large group of uncontrolled aliens or not being in a fighter when the ship she was on was attacked.

Suddenly, Jasmine realized that she'd probably need to amend that top ten list before long. Perhaps, if she added something like - not getting invaded by an extradimensional entity again, or avoiding getting shipped to a mental institution. Then again, after the various things that had happened to her while on the Galaxy, she'd probably be violating those items within the month.

The Betazoid didn't so much as sit but collapse upon her sofa and stare at the picture of the Illallallani Falls on Betazed. What she really needed, she decided, was a vacation. Again. Find out what Wes was up to, grab him and drag him home. There would be two purposes behind that visit, she decided - one, vacation. Two would be to visit some of the experts on mental abilities and see if there were some way for her to fight off another such entity should it happen again.

She wasn't, after all, some sort of mental taxi service for the random alien. Heloi rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. If she started spouting off nonsense again like 'two by two, hands of blue' she was going to check herself into the nearest mental institution and let it be. There was, after all, only so much anyone could take of insanity before it became the truth. Her one brush with it was more than enough for her.

Jasmine shook her head and closed her eyes. That reminded her, however, that she needed to personally thank Tarin for helping her fight off the Other before it was too late. Though how one exactly went about that was hard to imagine. Somehow, bringing chocolate chip cookies and a card that said 'Thanks for saving me from going insane' seemed a bit much. She seriously doubted that any card maker - from Hallmark to Galactic Greetings - carried any 'saving from insanity' cards.

'Eh, I'll figure something out,' she shrugged. Jasmine couldn't exactly be expected to have complete command of her mental facilities after being poked and prodded by medical, having her brain invaded by an extradimensional entity, and 24 hours without sleep. Right?

"Right," she answered herself out loud. Opening her eyes, the fighter pilot stood and headed towards her bed. She'd figure something out in the morning. Right now, sleep sounded much better.

OOC: Slight backpost, just wrapping up.

"Respect"

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer
Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer

with... Captain Stravo, Ship's Master, SS Danner's Fold

****

Transporter Room,
Deck 3,
SS Danner's Fold

"Go ahead, Stravo," Henderson said, pointing the mountainous Nausicaan in the direction of the transporter pad. Thankfully, Corran Rex's Vanguards had already beamed most of the crew of the freighter away to the safety of the USS Galaxy. Draco Valmont was out of his hands, and soon the Nausicaan captain would be too.

"This is my ship, human. I wish to be the last one off if she is to be scuttled," the ship's master growled. "Whatever you may think of me, I have pride in my vessel."

Cass nodded and shrugged, "Well, it'll be your funeral if you're not on the pad when the Vanguard are ready to beam you out. Cora, if you'd like to go first, I think we can give the man a few last moments alone with his ship."

"Are you sure, sir? I don't want to leave you without appropriate backup if that should change." Cora would let Henderson make the final decision but she had to say it.

"I think he probably understands the ramifications of a phaser cannon impacting his ship with him onboard," the executive officer replied. "It's really not a difficult concept, right Stravo?"

The Nausicaan nodded. It hadn't been a good day.

"Understood, Commander. If he doesn't, he'll learn quickly. See you back aboard the Galaxy." Cora moved towards the transporter pad, ready to assist if needed. Right until the moment the transporter beam caught her in its grip.

"Well, Stravo. I'll be going now. Don't wander far. The Vanguard will make one last pass in one minute," Cass said, turning to face the Nausicaan, "And that's one shuttle I wouldn't miss." He saluted the Nausicaan and stepped onto the pad. A moment later, he'd been caught in the beam.

****

Main Transporter Room,
Deck XX,
USS Galaxy-A

Cass watched as the Nausicaan arrived on the transporter pad a moment later. The other man looked stricken, and Cass gave him a brief nod of respect before he was lead away by a couple of ensigns from Security.

When the room was empty, Cass turned to Cora. "Well, I'm glad he took my advice," the exec said, "I think Stravo turned out to be a fairly decent guy. A smuggler and a gun runner to be sure, but at least willing to work with us when it came to saving his crew."

"They all go wrong somewhere and regret it later, but you're right. At least he decided to work with us. I've witnessed too many that go just the opposite," Cora responded.

"Yeah. An uncommon Nausicaan, if there ever was," he nodded. "I want you to know that I think you did an excellent job over there. Very efficient, very capable. Considering who the Director and Assistant Director are these days, you're a credit to SFI's training programs."

"Thank you, sir. I'm there to do my job and do it right, no matter what anyone else says. I'll have the final report from the Intelligence side on your desk as soon as I have it finished," Cora had to smile, slightly relieved to hear that someone had noticed her potential. "If that's all, Commander, I should check in with my department before I leave Ensign Bental in charge for the evening."

"Sounds good," Cass nodded, and offered a salute, "We should talk sometime. I'll catch up to you while we're at Trill. Now then, I too could use some sleep, so think it's about time we part. Good night, Miss Dobryin."

He walked off into the ship, knowing that it would probably be a couple more hours before he could actually sleep.

Note: Throwback to a time when Bikers were Real Men.

"Highway to Hell....er.....Trill"

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg, CMO
and quite possibly....Biker?
Lt.(JG) Dr. Jack Slen, Pathologist and the straight man.

Soundtrack: ACDC - Highway to Hell

Everything felt right. There was no danger....as wel as there should have been, but the physics applied to the chopper were realistic. It was a red standard chopper. A realistic recreation of an Orange County Chopper circa 2001 on the Earth Calander. It seemed to glide accross the ground.

~Wow, I wish I had one of these when I was a teenager.~

The road appeared to be a stretch of highway from the southwestern region of North America. It seemed to stretch on forever...and technically it did. The recreation was almost perfect. "Almost" because the safety protocols were on. His costume was pretty good. A worn leather jacket with the Flag of the old United States of America adorned on the back, a long sleeve white button down, and worn blue jeans. Oddly enough, Klaus felt the need to have his rank pips on his collar. He cruised along, alone. But there were 2 other additions to the costume. What appeared to be old Flight Goggles circa the 1940s and a big brown, half smoked cigar. The power of the holodeck was almost unimaginable. A wonder of modern science. Klaus had actually felt speed like this once or twice, and the Holodeck was doing an awesome job spewing holographic wind in his face.

The Cigar was hard to do at first, but Klaus understood why his father loved them so much....but also why they were considered dangerous to ones health.

The sky was clear and the ground flat save for some high plateaus in the distance.

The fun may have, or may not have, been coming to an end. the door opened up behind him, and certain special someone walked in.

"What....the....hell?"

Jack Slen walked in, protected by the safety protocols and standing on the moving road.

Klaus took a quick look behind him and drooped his head, almost skidding out. He stablized, and spoke. "What is it Dr. Slen, I'm....preoccupied."

"Well...aren't you a little young for a mid-life crisis?" He asked with a sharp tounge

"This isn't a mid-life crisis. I'm only 33." Klaus bit back.

"Well, what do you call smoking and riding a motorcycle in the holodeck?"

"It's not a motorcycle, it's a chopper!" Klaus shouted back, in a not-so corrective manner.

"See! Thats what I'm talking about! When you went off duty earlier, you were giddy like a kid with a new toy or some crap like that." Klaus grunted and continued his cruise, trying to speed up, but stopping, realizing it wouldn't help.

"So..what....having a guy trying to kill you isn't enough excitement for you."

Something snapped in Klaus. "FREEZE PROGRAM!" He hopped off the frozen motorcycle and ran up to Dr. Slen, grabbing his uniform. In a hushed, yet angry voice. "HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT!"

"When Al heard I was being assigned to the Galaxy, he told me to keep an eye on you so some guy named Gunther didn't kill ya...Chill out! We're all friends here..." Klaus let go and turned around. Jack wiped the holohgraphic dust off of his chest. "Jeez, Klaus..."

"It's a sensitive subject..."

"So...what does Kay Know?"

"Yes. She does....but I would prefer it to not be very well known." He was totally calm now.

"So, You smoke now?"

Klaus took the cigar out of his mouth..."Apparently so. I was wondering if you were ok.....I heard that the Slen Symbiote was still on Trill....He might have been joined...but I've heard nothing about that."

"Now....there's where I end the conversation. We'll be needing you to come back on duty in half an hour. Enjoy the midlife crisis...."

"IT's *NOT* A MIDLIFE CRISIS!! I'M ONLY 33!!"

"Sure...whatever..." Dr. Slen walked out and the doors closed.

Klaus quickly hopped back on the motorcycle. "Resume Program." He went the motorcycle's maximum speed for 15 minutes.

"Preoccupations"

Ensign Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control Officer

Lieutenant Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer

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

Since Miramon had chatted with Nara back in his quarters a while ago, he'd felt quite preoccupied with the situation at hand. Though he wasn't comfortable acting as the intermediary, it was quite clear that if somebody didn't step in, the situation wasn't going to resolve itself, since Nara was simmering nicely between wanting a relationship with Saul and wanting to take his head off around neck height, whereas Saul seemed either blissfully unaware of Nara's feelings, or just very cautious about his own approach. One of them needed a firm amount of nudging in the appropriate direction, and the Bajoran had a feeling Saul was the one most likely to respond positively to a little nudging.

As it was, he was just heading over to Intel with a firm game plan in mind, though how he was supposed to get a private chat with Saul when there were likely to be other Intel officers in the room with him. That probably wouldn't prove to be a very comfortable affair for any of them, though it would certainly generate some gossip around the ship. Though, now he thought of it, that could be conducive, since Saul and Nara might be embarrassed enough to actually do something about it for a chance. Nah, not really. Wishful thinking.

He stepped into the Intel Offices with a firm tread, the doors swishing open as though they needed a good greasing and closing almost as soon as he'd stepped inside. He spotted the officers inside turn to see who was invading their private space when he came up with the perfect pretense for being there.

"Ensign Bental, I wanted to have a word with you regarding a particularly sensitive topic which might prove to be of some interest on a professional level."

Well, that was at least a half-truth - if they didn't sort this one out, Nara was going to kill both of them, which was certain to put a damper on anyone's career.

"Miramon!"

Saul Bental was sitting next to a complex, looking computer console, discussing a chart with a gaint Vulcan NCO. His face seemed to be either flushed or slightly tanned, but otherwise the Intelligence officer seemed fine. He beamed at Miramon, and whispered in the Vulcan's ear before leaving him to continue the work on the chat alone.

Saul closed the gap between him and the Bajoran Flight Controller in a couple of wide steps, and pressed his shoulder.

"It's good to see you. Come, let's talk in the interviews chamber."

The two of them entered a small room next to the entrance to the CIC. As the door closed behind them, Saul turned toward his friend, a puzzled look on his face.

"Is this anything urgent? I was going to see you at dinner time anyway."

Miramon nodded, but shrugged off that particular observation quickly enough, instead sitting down in one of the chairs and double-checking to make sure the door was shut. Time to get right to the point.

"Well, I've just been talking with Nara. Mind if I ask what your stance is, right now?"

Saul sighed, almost moaned. "Get a number."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was approached by this guy called Kastanza in this very room. He came here to tell me that he and Nara were hitting it off, but that was a lie - it was more like he was trying to see if I'm interested in Nara or not. Then, I was nearly assaulted by 8-Ball, who had more or less the same question. And now you."

The Intelligence officer smiled sheepishly. "Either she's paying you all, or she's being so miserable half the ship comes to her defense... I fear both options."

Miramon's half smile spoke volumes, but he raised his hands to indicate that Saul had the wrong idea. "From what I've heard, Kastanza's doing all the chasing, and Nara has all but flattened him. I didn't hear about 8-Ball, but you know what she's like. Definately not a diplomat. And actually, I'm more here on your behalf than on Nara's."

"Someone I can trust, finally." Saul smiled weakly. His own world was one where betrayal was a legitimate tool, and was always taken under consideration. "I'm listening."

Miramon nodded. "Your main problem, or so it seems, is that nobody, including Nara herself, knows precisely where you stand. Hence, you're going to have her friends trying to find out what your stance is because they want to help out. And so do I, but effectively, you've got to go one way of the other. Either you like her, or you don't. You're going to have to make a snappy decision."

"It's not that simple. Nothing ever is." Saul replied softly. "Let me tell you a little secret. I don't know where I stand either. My personal file probably says that I adapt very quickly to new situations, but right now I'm torn between two young ladies - both which I'm fond of, but which will have very good reasons to change their hearts. Branwen doesn't know the 'real me', and Nara... well, let's say that whether I like her or not, I'm going to give her reasons to dislike me because of work issues."

That was one was to call the plan he had formed in his mind regarding Nara and the contract, the plan that'll take place once they reach Trill. Of course, that was a thought he couldn't share with Miramon, and being an Intelligence officer, withholding information from a friend wasn't new to him. Still, as he actually spelled out his fears, he began to wonder if there was something else that he refused to admit, even to himself.

Was he afraid of falling in love?

Saul shrugged his shoulders. "So right now, I guess I'm just waiting to see if I'm right or not... or something."

Miramon looked at his friend with a very curious expression, narrowing his eyes as a memory returned to him of an earlier conversation they'd had on the same topic.

"You know, that's the second time you've said you'd have problems with Nara over a work-related issue. From what I can tell, it's the only thing getting between you right now, isn't it? What's going on?"

"I can't talk about it." Saul responded sharply. He suddenlly felt faint, but that feeling passed as quickly as it emerged.

Miramon's replying smile pretty much indicated what he thought about that. Saul was good at being evasive, but the Bajoran was stubborn and usually persistant where most people would have given up on the point. Still, that was something they'd finish up later, when they had time.

"Okay, so we won't talk about it now. But you better resolve that point soon, because if not, you might miss your chance with Nara for good. And I don't believe for one second that that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want, Miramon, that much is obvious. But I thank you for your advice, truly."

Saul appeared to drift for a moment, then his eyes focused on Miramon again, "Besides, I didn't get the chance to tell you I was glad the Derayshans didn't turn you and the shuttle into Bajoran Qetsu soup."

Miramon nodded his thanks. It was nice that somebody cared, though thankfully he wasn't dead so nobody had to undergo that awfully long death chant to make sure everybody knew it.

"Thanks, Saul. But then, they were using outdated technology. No match for Fed. technology, you know that."

"Of course, but we needed to be careful whereas they didn't care about the rift. Plus, you were piloting a shuttle, and the bad guys were flying 'Darts'.", Saul indicated.

The Bajoran shrugged. Old news, where he was concerned. After all, he didn't exactly have a front-row spectator seat for the game - he'd been one of the players.

"Still, you're not going to run me off the oft-beaten track here. You are gonna need to make some sort of decision about what you're gonna do. Everyone here seems to have an idea other than you. Heck, for an Intel officer, you sure don't know the things important to you, do you? Or are you really that much of a workaholic?"

Saul scowled at that one. "Well, I happen to know what is important to me.", he stated, then caughed. "And yes, being a Starfleet officer and doing my job correctly is important to me. There are other imp... ahem... important things, if you recall our little trip to Bajor when we helped apprehending Rosenthal, and Nara-"

Saul coughed again. The scowl grew deeper as the caugh didn't stop. He reached for his mouth with his hand, trying to politely surpress the noise, but then an unusually vicious caugh came, and when Saul lowered his eyes he realized his hand was now covered with drops of blood. The blood wasn't completely red; It had some solid blue-purple lumps in it. Saul's gaze moved from his hand to look at Miramon.

"Nothing to worry about. With all the rush I forgot to take..."

Though he'd seen people cough up blood before, the Bajoran was a little alarmed by this one. Blood was red, not red with several other colours. At least, not where humans were concerned, anyway. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then jabbed a finger in Saul's direction. "What's going on, Saul? Forgot what?"

"Medicine."

Saul carefully sat down, and caughed again. He looked up, suddenlly reminding Miramon of a beggar with the pleading expression on his face. And then, without any warning, the Intelligence officer closed his eyes and fell backwards.

Miramon shot forward and grabbed the human by the arm, though it didn't stop him falling, only helped him to pivot slightly and not hit the ground with such a resounding slam. The Bajoran lowered the man to the ground, then grasped him by the shoulders and shook him lightly.

"If this is meant to be a joke, it's not funny. Stop playing around!"

The human didn't move, aside from a slight shudder as Miramon shook him the first time. The flight control officer used his thumb to pry open on of Saul's eyes, which were very much vacant and would have showed a lot more of a reaction had the man been conscious, which he clearly wasn't. The Bajoran felt stupid. This wasn't somebody playing a joke on him or trying to melodramatically change the subject. Thinking quicker, the Bajoran tapped his commbadge and waited but a second for the link to be established.

"Terrik to Sickbay. Medical Emergency, Intel Offices. I need someone up here stat."

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

The alert came in directly through Klaus' comm.

["Terrik to Sickbay. Medical Emergency, Intel Offices. I need someone up here stat."]

"I hear you Terrik. I'm coming down myself."

Klaus pointed two of the medtechs. "You and you, with me. Now." They bolted out of sickbac and into a turbolift. "Deck 8, Intelligence CIC. NOW."

The lift closed and sped away. They transferred through the seperation plan then when up to deck 8. As soon as the doors opened, they burst ouf of the turbolift and down the hall. Klaus calmly rushed in.

"Hmm...Mr. Bental. What happened to him?" Klaus asked while checking his vitals.

Miramon's concerned face turned to the Doctor as soon as he entered the room, and the Flight Controller stood up and twisted to his feet in a singular motion, since Saul was now laid down on the floor, his head propped up by Miramon's uniform jacket. The Bajoran motioned to the comatose human, his face telling pretty much everything.

"I don't know what's wrong with him, sir. We were talking, and then he coughed up some blood and collapsed. It was all very sudden. Will he be alright?"

"He's breating normally...his blood pressure seems alright.." He noticed the blue tint to the skin. "Hm....that's...not right. Get the stretcher ready!" Klaus pulled out his tricorder and started scanning, immediately picking up unusual compounds. Compounds that aren't supposed to be in human blood.

"These....Bolian....what?" A thought flashed in Klaus' mind, Saul's medical records. "Hurry!" The medtechs lifted Saul onto the stretcher. "Go! Move!"

~Why Saul....why didn't you take your medication!~

Miramon looked significantly bewildered as this was going on. He lightly took the doctor's arm to get his attention, even though it was clear the man was occupied. Still, the Bajoran did want to know what was going on.

"Doctor, please, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry. Doctor's confidentiality. Just know that he'll be fine. I'm not going to let him die."

Sighing, realising he'd never get past the doctor's sense of confidentiality long enough to find out what was going on, Miramon simply nodded at the CMO and watched impassively as the medtechs heaved Saul onto the stretcher and carted him off to Sickbay. Before allowing the doctor to follow them, the Bajoran held the man by his shoulder to stop him from departing. "Doctor, keep me informed of any changes in his condition, please. Let me know when he wakes up, if you would. And thanks."

"Don't worry, I will" They moved into the turbolift and Klaus stared out with endless concern as the doors closed.

"Devil Went Down To Jhorjah" Part 4

(Takes place twenty minutes after 'Part 3')

Principal Characters

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

Secondary Characters

Sevok, Vulcan club patron
T'sel, Sevok's shipmate
Hraask, V'kala's Klingon husband

****

Jhorjah
Dahnyehl City
Tcharlee's Place

Victor was certain that if Commander Corgan were here, he'd be able to clear everything up in short order.

He'd been forced to signal the Attendant that he was detained - without combat - and that she was on her own when it became apparent that he'd attracted too much attention to himself with the question that Sevok had asked to just brush the Vulcan off and follow her. That kind of recognition was not what they needed, nor was it the sort of thing the man he was supposed to be would seek either. They were here to make contacts, not enemies, even casual ones.

That was why Victor had allowed the Vulcan to invite him back to the table where his fellow Vulcan companions sat to finish their conversation; and why he now found himself in the unusual position of wanting James Corgan to walk through the door. No one he knew had slept - or done other things - with as many different women of as many different species as the Commander, and if there was anyone in Victor's experience that could answer Sevok's questions, James would be the one.

Unfortunately James Corgan was off with the Galaxy, doing Q only knew what, and Victor was trapped here on his own, trying to answer a question that he literally had no experience with the topic of. All things considered, a fight would have been better - at least Victor would have understood that.

He took a sip from his drink, looked around the table at the expectant, impassive faces, and surrendered. He'd just make something up. At the very least, he doubted that Sevok or any of his companions, had ever done the things under discussion with a Klingon either. "You want to know," he said slowly, "if, based on my experiences with my wife, Klingons make the most... passionate... of lovers?"

Not a difficult question to answer - if he'd ever done that with the Attendant. The problem was, of course, that he hadn't. She'd tried to kill him several times, but.... He smiled as an idea came to him. There was a way he could answer the question and not sound like he had no idea what the Vulcan referred to - all he had to do was talk about the Attendant's passion for violence and everything would be just fine.

"Yes," Sevok nodded. "With the exclusion of those races, like the Deltans, which exert pheromonal control over their partners, as I previously stated."

"Then I would say that the answer is 'yes,'" Victor nodded. "She is the most passionate individual I have ever known. Her passions drive her - and me - to places that I have never been before." This planet and conversation came immediately to mind.

"And these passions you share, they are... stronger than normal?"

"So strong that I have occasionally thought I might die from them," Victor assured him.

"Indeed?" Sevok asked, eyebrow raised. "I thank you, Captain Todeshändler."

"You're welcome - but might I ask how you got started on this survey?" Victor gestured with one hand to Sevok's fellows. "Not to be offensive, but it isn't a topic that I would normally associate with a member of your race. I've always thought of Vulcans as more... reserved."

"No offense is taken," one of the others, the only female present, assured him. "It is an understandable question."

Sevok nodded, "T'sel is, as always, correct. I was a student of galactic relations in my younger days, and, based on readings of several race's philosophers, formulated a theory that the relations between the galactic powers were, in essence, extensions of the act of sexual congress between them. I seek to examine the relations between interspecies couples for evidence that will confirm or deny the theory."

"You think that intergalactic diplomacy is simply all about sex?" Victor asked.

"It is, I admit, a non-traditional thesis."

"I'm sure it raised a few eyebrows back home when you proposed it," Victor agreed.

"That would be, as you humans say, 'a safe bet,'" Sevok nodded. "It was that which led me on my current path."

The female Vulcan, T'sel, gave Sevok a look that silenced any further words. "Are you here on business, Captain?"

"Yes and no," Victor replied as he suppressed his desire to know why the Vulcans were here - or even if they were Vulcans at all. It wouldn't be out of the question for a group of Romulan agents to try something like this to make contacts and pick up information. "We've some cargo to sell, and some specific purchases to make, but once we're done with that, the business portion of the trip is over." He took a drink and added, "I don't suppose you're in the market for textiles or spices are you?

"No," she replied. "Not this trip."

"Worth asking, anyway," Victor noted. "Have you..." He frowned as he watched all of the Vulcans at the table look up and behind him. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Yes," T'sel nodded.

Victor started to set the drink in his hand down and turn. From the way she'd said it, the problem was his and not theirs.

"You!" a gruff Klingon voice bellowed before he'd turned enough to see who or what was approaching, "human!"

Without even having laid eyes on the speaker, Victor somehow knew that this was going to be Hraask, the real V'kala's husband. It was the only thing that made any sense if he accepted that the worst possible event that could occur was about to, and nothing about this mission gave him any hope of that not being the case.

"Yes, you, human!" the speaker bellowed again. "I say you lie!"

For just a second Victor wondered why no one else had days like this - and then he remembered that there wasn't anyone else like him to have them. "Me?" he asked as he stood up. There was no way he was going to start a fight with a Klingon sitting down. No one deserved that kind of an advantage. Even Leo Streeley could win that way.

"You!" the speaker - if what he was doing could be called 'speaking' and not 'bellowing' confirmed. He was, of course, a Klingon. Taller than Victor by a few inches, and heavier by more than a few pounds, he reminded Victor of nothing so much as a younger, slightly leaner, and much better-looking version of General Kragg. There was no physical resemblance to the late unlamented General, but the way he held himself was strikingly similar.

"About what?" As if Victor didn't know.

Hraask shook a fist at Victor's face. "V'kala is *my* wife! She would never marry a pathetic human weakling like yourself!"

A talker; Victor couldn't believe it, the man was actually a talker. Most Klingons would have started swinging - or shooting - the minute they laid eyes on him under the circumstances, but Hraask wanted to talk and not fight. Victor let the layers shrouding his inner self fall away and it was Death that smiled. He didn't mind talking - but that wasn;t the only thing he was going to do today.

Victor threw the contents of his glass into Hraask's face without a comment as the Klingon's eyes widened under the impact of Victor's expanding presence. Hraask bellowed in pain as the synthehol seared at his eyes, swung once wildly, and then folded over and slammed face-first into the floor as Victor kicked his ankles out from under him and jerked down on the front of the Klingon's collar.

"Idiot," Death remarked, and then looked over one shoulder at the Vulcans. "Perhaps we can talk another time," he said in a voice that sped several patrons on their way with greater rapidity, even though the ones he addressed showed no sign of reaction. "I'm afraid that your companion would say that his diplomatic relations have moved into the break-up phase right now."

"Perhaps we will," T'sel agreed calmly. "Do you require assistance?"

The smile on Victor's face widened. "Not for him - but thank you for the offer. Perhaps we can talk again later."

Hraask growled and started to stand up, but fell again as Victor kicked his supporting arm out from under him, and then methodically stomped on the hand that had drawn a disruptor, sending the weapon skittering away under the tables. "None of that now," Death admonished. "No wonder she chose me over you. A real man wouldn't need a disruptor to settle this."

Hraask bellowed again and surged to his feet as Victor danced away. "Little human bastard!"

"About that," Victor observed as he ducked a swing and reached up to the side of Hraask's face. "She was very explicit in her descriptions that you came up short in a number of ways by comparison." His fingers slid along Hraask's head, caught on his right ear, and clamped down. "For instance..." He jerked once, felt the resistance give, and brought his hand away and out of the spray of blood that followed it. "...there's the matter of only having one ear..." Victor held out his hand to display the formerly-attached item in question.

"What?" Hraask stopped and snapped a hand to the side of his head. "You..."

"No, yours actually," Victor corrected. "Here, you dropped this." He tossed the bloody ear back.

It hit Hraask in the chest with a 'spat', slipped and started to fall, which forced the Klingon to snatch at it to keep it from falling. Hraask stared at it in disbelief, and then brought his now-bloody hand down to look at that. "You..." he whispered, in a mixture of confused disbelief and rage. "You..."

"There were one or two other things she mentioned as well," Death chuckled with Victor's voice. "Places where you came up short - or didn't come up at all, depending on how you wanted to look at it." Death's smile widened. "If you could look at it, that is. She suggested using a micro-sensor array."

Hraask's face darkened until it was a shade of purplish-black rarely seen outside of the Terran vegetable eggplant, and spittle flew from his mouth as he roared something incomprehensible in Klingon.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that, can you try it again in... well, some language a sentient speaks anyway?"

Hraask charged.

The rush was too fast to avoid, and too powerful to resist as the enraged Klingon slammed into Victor, the impact strong enough to pick him up off his feet and carry him along across the floor for several meters before he was driven into a wall with bone-jarring force. Hraask backed up without releasing Victor and drove forward again, still yelling as he crushed Victor into the wall - which shattered under the impact and precipitated the pair outside the building and into one of the city's many meandering alleyways in a spray of wood, plaster, and brick.

The shift in position as he and Hraask rolled across the alleyway was enough to let Victor break the hold his stronger opponent had on him and kick him away. With the distance gained, he scrambled back and hammered a kick to the side of the Klingon's head while Hraask was still down. The blow sent Hraask sprawling in the trash on the alley floor and gave Victor the time to back up and look around.

The alleyway was three, maybe four meters wide, and ran for three times that back behind Hraask before it turned to the left. Six meters behind him it exited out onto the street by the front of the club, and the sounds from that direction suggested that the alley mouth was already full of passerby eager to see the rest of the fight that had attracted their attention. Behind Hraask's rising figure and to the right was the hole that they'd made in the wall on their way through, a similar crowd filling it.

Not the best place to fight an enraged Klingon, but it would have to do. Victor stepped in again as Hraask shook his head and got to his feet, taking his opponent's right arm at the shoulder and elbow, and whirled him around to slam the Klingon face-first into the wall where they'd come through. Victor managed to repeat the movement, breaking the Klingon's nose this time, before Hraask threw him off and whirled about, blood dripping from his nose as well as his missing ear.

"Now we're showing signs of improvement," Death chuckled in a version of Victor's voice that made several bystanders draw back from the hole in the wall. "Just a little more work and you'll be handsome enough to put the other targ to shame in the pen tonight."

Hraask's bellow filled the alley as he rushed forward swinging.

Victor picked off the first three blows, had to take the fourth because he was out of position, and caught Hraask's arm on the fifth as it slammed into his side. He spun the Klingon off-balance and kicked him in the side of the knee hard enough to send his opponent to the garbage-strewn floor of the alleyway again. "Apparently," Victor suggested, "you have as much trouble *standing* up as she said you did *keeping it* up."

Hraask growled wordlessly and lunged forward to take Victor's legs out and drop him to the floor of the alley. Snarling, he swung once, then again, to knock Victor back down as he started to rise, before he commenced a series of alternating handed blows punctuated by grunts. "My... wife... my... woman... not... yours... never... yours... human!"

As he was rocked under the trip hammer blows, Victor struggled to scrabble his arms free, finally managed it around the fourth blow, and used them to blunt the impact of as many of the others as he could. A head butt into Hraask's already-broken nose bought Victor a moment's respite to catch his breath and deliver a pair of blows of his own to the side of Hraask's head on the site of his missing ear. "You're not listening, are you? Oh wait - you can't, can you? That was something else she said you couldn't do well."

The Klingon screamed, shook his head, and slammed Victor back against the floor of the alley in response. "Shut up, human!" He seized Victor's right arm with both hands and wrenched. "She never said those things! You lie!" Victor's right arm dislocated at the shoulder with a muffled 'pop' and Hraask dropped it to wrap his bloody hands around Victor's throat. "I'll shut your lying mouth forever!" Hraask cried out as he clamped down.

Blood roared in Victor's ears and the dimly-lit alley darkened around them as Hraask throttled him, but Death's smile never wavered. Victor jerked his left arm free and speared his fingers into Hraask's undefended throat to back the Klingon off. As Hraask gagged and reflexively reached for his throat, Victor laughed once as his hand dropped to Hraask's wait.

"Stop laughing, dead man!" Hraask coughed as he reached for Victor's throat again. "Stop laugh..." The final word cut off in a rising, shrill tone as Victor's hand clamped down on his assailant's privates and twisted savagely.

"There was also that only having one testicle problem," Death chuckled as he savagely twisted Hraask's privates again and shoved the agonized Klingon off him to lie writhing on the alley floor. "Combined with your size deficiency there, she said it impaired your already poor performance to the point where she couldn't tell whether you were coming or going."

Hraask started to straighten out and reach for Victor again, but before he could do more than sit up awkwardly, Victor had rolled onto his left side and kicked Hraask solidly in the face once to knock him back down again. As the Klingon hit the alley floor, Victor swiveled and kicked him in the side of the head three times in rapid succession, and then a fourth after the Klingon had gone limp - just to be sure. "See what I mean?" Death whispered as he stood up. "We were just getting started and you're already spent."

The thing wearing Victor's face looked over at the hole into Tcharlee's and smiled in welcome. "Anyone else?"

A throaty laugh answered him and the Attendant slipped past the other onlookers through the hole and out into the alley. "Marvelous, just marvelous," she laughed as she looked down at Hraask.

"No then?" Death whispered, ignoring her. "Pity." He looked up the alley and then down it, stepped back to open up some space between himself and Hraask's motionless form, shook once like a wolf shedding water from its coat, and was only Victor again. Only then did he acknowledge the Attendant's approach.

"You might have mentioned this before," he suggested, with a frown. Keeping secrets like this one wasn't going to help get the job done - especially if there were any more conveniently forgotten previous husbands lying around.

"Was there a need to?" the Attendant asked in her V'kala voice as she stepped over Hraask without another glance at him and trailed a hand down Victor's cheek. "You were... magnificent."

Victor supposed that expecting her to follow a complete disclosure regimen was about as likely as Starfleet making him an admiral. On second though, possibly less likely. "That's why you married me, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

"Mmmm...." The Attendant murmured wordlessly as she ran a hand up his chest and kissed him. "That must have been it."

Victor growled and let the kiss carry him away for a moment only breaking away when she pressed herself against him and brushed against his dislocated shoulder. "Business first, pleasure second," he reminded her.

"Better both at the same time," the Klingon woman laughed throatily as she let him push her back.

"If you can manage that, yes," Victor agreed. "But it doesn't work out that way most of the time." He reached up and steadied the dislocated shoulder with his left hand. He needed to do something about that before the adrenaline wore off.

"Oh, you're hurt, husband." The Attendant smiled and reached for the arm. "Let me help."

Even though he had a good idea of what she meant by 'help,' Victor nodded once to stay in character and braced himself.

Her hands slipped along the arm, tested the muscles hardened by the twice-daily workouts that Captain Brhode had mandated and Victor had never stopped, and stretched the arm out with strong hands. She leaned in close, kissed him again, and abruptly wrenched the arm back into place just as he started to respond to her, never breaking the kiss.

Victor hissed in release from the pain as she pulled back from the kiss, and laughed. "Did you find what we were looking for?" he asked.

"What was that again?" the Attendant teased, as she slid alongside him and worked an arm around his waist.

"You know what I mean," Victor growled.

"Remind me," she teased in a low purr. "Seeing you fight like that made me think of... other things...."

Victor let himself smile as Erik would have and turned into her for a hungry, savage kiss. Moments later, as he worried her ear with his teeth, he whispered, "Did you find the location of the weapons dealers from Geerik?"

"Oh, that," the Attendant panted in an imitation of lust that would have earned her honors at any acting workshop as she let him push her against the wall, one leg curled around his for support. "I... know where to go, yes..."

"Then let's go and be done with this," Victor murmured before he pulled away." The sooner we're done with that, the sooner we can get back on the Shabradnigdo and get back to doing what we should be doing." He smiled. "You want that, don't you?"

The Attendant's laugh carried down the alley as she let him pull her away from the wall and to her feet. "More than you know, husband." She turned slightly and took a step down the alley. "Let's be done with business and move on to... better things," she purred back at him. "This way."

Victor reached out and caught her by the belt, moved up next to her, and released her. "Lets," he agreed as they started down the alleyway.

It would be good to stop pretending and be Victor again.

ROGUE

"Rogue: Disaster!"

With
Captain Daren M'Kantu and the bridge crew of the USS Galaxy.

(OCC: My apologies if I dont have your character traits down exactly.)

Time: Hours from the planet Trill
Location: The Captain's Ready Room, USS Galaxy

Captain Darren M'Kantu sat in the chair behind the large desk in the Ready Room, the same storied desk that his predecessor Captain Price once sat behind as he planned the evacuation of doomed planet Ursid. There was still a scuff mark from the heel of the infamous Captain Bhrode's famed Hirogen skin boots. He glanced at his own reflection in the viewport, then let out a deep cleansing breath, wondering again what mark he would leave upon the desks surface. Wondering what legacy he would leave upon this ship's rich history.

Sealed off from the hustle and bustle of commanding a Federation starship, left alone with nothing but his thoughts, the Captain picked up a data pad and activated his personal log recording program.

"Captain's Log, Stardate 50502.28: Nearly a week behind schedule, both the crew of the Galaxy and I are eager to reach Trill. Their rich culture and long history I find almost as interesting as I do the violet colored waves that lap against their beaches. Hopefully I will be able to devote some time to a closer study of..."

The Captain paused as the communicator on his chest chirped.

[Bridge to the Captain.]

M'Kantu frowned slightly, instantly recognizing the voice of the ship's executive officer, Commander Cassius Henderson. He brought his dark fingers up and tapped the highly polished surface of his badge, all the while trying to rein in his irritation over the interruption.

"If this is in regard to one Leo Streely again Commander, I think I will have him fed to a Gorn." he uttered, remembering his last encounter with the self professed "free spirit" of the ship, where Leo had wanted to license out the Captain's likeness for boxer shorts.

[Captain, you... need to see this...]

Since coming aboard the USS Galaxy, Daren M'Kantu had discovered that his First Officer was not prone to overreaction to any situation. That made the grim and somewhat angry tone in his voice a cause for great concern.

All thoughts of solitude behind him now, he strode through the adjoining doors with the padd still in his hand to find the bridge eerily silent. His first officer was standing firm, arms crossed and jaw dangerously set. His smoldering eyes glared towards the viewscreen. Counselor Dallas, seated at the left hand side of the Captain's chair, had what appeared to be the onset of tears welling up in her eyes. Others were shaking their heads in horror as they too focused on the images just across the captain's right shoulder.

Daren finally looked at the screen and felt his breath pulled from his body.

A Federation based news broadcast was being transmitted on the viewscreen and their cameras were focused upon an enormous black cloud that was rolling through the crystal blue sky, nearly as high as the mountain in the distant background. What once appeared to have been buildings now looked to be nothing more than flaming heaps of rubble.

Bodies lay scattered in the thick ash that covered streets like freshly fallen snow, partially covered by brick and stone. In the distance could be seen a woman clutching the lifeless form of what may have been her brother, father or son. As the camera panned the landscape, rescue workers could be seen dragging burning bodies from several buildings.

M'Kantu's sharp eyes noticed one common trait amongst the victims and rescue workers: they all had distinctive markings.

Trill markings.

The padd tumbled from M'Kantu's hands.

"Dear God.." he said breathlessly, momentarily dropping the hard outer shell of command that all Captains find themselves obliged to wear.

The reporter, who's voice had only moments ago broken into sobs, now had regained his composure, and began to speak once more.

"Again....if you are just joining us... tragedy is unfolding. We have unconfirmed reports that a starship has crashed into the planet Trill. What you are seeing now is the capital city of Leran Manev, home to vast libraries, museums and some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Now, devastation is as far as the eye can see. Entire city blocks have been laid to waste. Flames are spreading. There are countless injuries as many are still trapped beneath collapsed structures. Casualties are being estimated in the thousands. No word yet from the Symbiote Commission or President Durghan. We're going to go live to Kal Sigg who is actually at the scene..Kal..."

The screen switched to a scratchy and grainy video of a man holding a microphone, covered in dust and soot. He looked over his shoulder and cupped his ear.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me? My ears are still ringing. I can still feel the impact of the ship hitting the planet. The debris is making it hard to breath...Jesus, I have never seen such hell. There are people crying for help...sirens..."

A sudden explosion to the reporter's left toppled a wall. The camera could just make out Kal throwing his hands up in the air before the image went black.

Over at the operations station, several relays came to life. Lt. Iniaru, the red headed Ops officer danced her hands over the consol then called out: "Captain, incoming message from Starfleet. The Galaxy is being ordered to Trill. As fast as possible."

Captain M'Kantu took one more moment to soak up the images on the screen, then he tugged his tunic and nodded.

"Helm, make it so." he said nodding to Lt. Savoie, then turned to Commander Henderson. "Number One, have all departments prepare for coordinated rescue and recovery efforts. Medical should prepare for heave causalities. Engineering, Security. Have counselors on standby. I want all hands ready for duty."

"Aye sir" Henderson said with a crisp nod.

M'Kantu walked over to the Op's station. "Lieutenant."

"Yes sir?"

"Send word to Trill." he said once more locking his gaze on the carnage on the viewscreen.

"Tell them help is coming."

OOC: OK guys, this officially kicks off the beginning of "Rogue". We will arrive at Trill Friday and you guys will be deployed to rescue those trapped as well as investigate the cause of the crash itself. Feel free to post your reactions to what has just happened. Officially it is not yet known what caused the Starship to crash. Feel free to speculate in character. Write about getting ready to go planet side or write about your department getting ready. Have fun with it. Let's see what you all can do.

"Dark Days"

Lirisse Durghan, President of Trill

Not for the first time, President Lirisse Durghan ran a hand over her now-vacant symbiont pouch. Days like this, she certainly regretting giving up the Maz symbiont five years ago.

That had been another dark day, even darker than this one. Full of answers and questions. Dax had had to journey to the very bottom of the symbiont pools, to the ancient symbionts, some of whom were five thousand years old, with memories going back nearly five times that, to discover the answers then. What they had learned, of Trill's previous period of interstellar colonization to the world of Kurl, and the genetic tampering that had created the parasites who had tried to take over the Federation twice now, to realize their revenge on the Trill.

People had not been pleased to learn that, all those thousands of years ago, Trill had bombed it's own colony to prevent the spread of the perversion that was the parasites.

Revolutionaries had learned it first - to this day, she still didn't' know how the underground elements of their society had learned about what happened at Kurl so very long ago. But they had accused the government and the Symbiosis commission of purposefully suppressing the information, as it had - and still did - suppress the information that a much larger percentage of the Trill population was eligible for symbiosis.

Those revolutionaries had detonated those same weapons across the planet. Thousands of join and unjoined trill had died that day, and even more horrifying had been the thousands of symbionts lost. If the Starfleet Doctor - Bashir, she recalled - had not been able to perfect Bethan Roa's method of safely separating symbiont from host, many more would have been lost.

So she'd put a stop to joinings, in the wake of the losses, until the symbiont population had sufficiently recovered to support both itself and a joined population. For five years now, no new bonds had been made. No new applicants had been taken at the symbiosis commission.

The revolutions had made one point, however. For too long had joined Trill treated their unjoined brethren as a second class. That had persisted for far too long. And so she who was once Lirisse Maz, President of Trill, had become Lirisse Durghan once again. She was now one of the 'Great Unjoined', as so many of the much stuffier members of the Senate like to call them.

The change had brought a new vitality to her, and a new respect from the majority of the people, but then.. Days like this.. She missed Maz's wisdom, it's experience.

"Madame President," came the voice of one of her aides. "Are you ready to give your statement?"

"I am." she replied, turning from her window that overlooked Leran Manev, and saw the great plumes of smoke and the vision of devastation laid out before her. So many lives, so many ancient buildings, so much history, all lost because of the crash of a Federation starship. And they still didn't even know why the ship had crashed.

Sitting down behind her desk, Durghan smoothed her jacket as she sat, and cleared her throat before nodding to the holocam operator to begin.

"Citizens of Trill." she said, her clear voice ringing across the office, and on all broadcast frequencies planetwide. " Half an hour ago, the Federation Starship Akula crashed into a portion of the arts district of Leran Manev. Emergency crews are on the scene. We do not know the death toll yet, though I urge anyone with the appropriate skills to please make their way to the Capitol to assist in aid and rescue efforts as soon as possible. The Emergency Management Agency has already set up a control center near the affected zone."

"I urge everyone to please keep the speculation to the cause of this horrific accident to themselves. This is a dark day for Trill, but we do not need to make it worse by jumping to conclusions."

"Starfleet has already promised aid, and I'm told that the USS Galaxy is even now en route to assist us in rescue efforts, as well as in our investigation of this incident."

"Again, I urge all available citizens who can help to do so. That is all." she finished, and the camera operator cut the comm.

She stood again to look out at her window, even as her advisors gathered for situational updates.

President Durghan could even now not process the horror of this disaster, even as she saw the fires of her beloved home city burning.

She had hoped to be the President who saw Trill enter a new era of openness, of equality and understanding.

Now, with days like these and those five years ago, she wondered if anything of Trill would be left by the time she left office.

Dark days, indeed.

OOC: A Short post, but an insight of a man that was never in touch with his heritage.....and is changing due to the heritage being in danger.

"Torn Soul"

Lt.(jg) Dr. Jack Slen

Following the announcement, Dr. Fienberg had allowed any of his trill staff to take a short time off before they were needed upon arrival at Trill. Jack Slen was no exception. Klaus knew that symbiote inhabitted Jack's father Curzon was on Trill somewhere, possibly amoung the unjoined.

While Jack didn't like or understand the joining of the Symbiotes, he didn't hate the symbiotes themselves. In fact, he wanted to communicate with the Slen symbiote itself, hoping part of his father was still there. Unfortunately it was against the cultural code. But he had always hopped that someday they would meet again.

He sat in his quarters....He didn't hate the Trill either. He just didn't understand the species he shared half of his DNA with. Half of his genetic code was bound the planet of symbiotic sentient lifeforms and purple seas. He felt that bond. In his cold, witty and sarcastic heart, he felt that bond.

He hated those who had done this, but couldn't bring it out. It was all sadness. As a man, he was angery at the cowardice of the attack, but as a doctor, he grieved for the lives lost, as any doctor would. The thought continued to persist in his mind. ~Why?~

Then the endless concern for the symbiote Slen returned. Jack had made friends within the Symbiote Gaurd, and Slen had not left the planet. Unfortunately, he still didn't know if Slen was joined. All Jack could do was sick in his quarters, holding his forhead leaning forward. He stood up and straightened his back. He bolted out of his quarters and into a turbolift.

Sickbay was busy, Klaus directing the show.

"I'm Back Doc. Ready for work."

This was a Jack Slen no one had ever seen before. All of the sarcasm, wit and other negativitiy was gone. It was all determination and a little bit of sadness.

"Ground Zero, Part One"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

Leran Manev, Trill

"Okay, let me see if I have this right: when a Trill symbiont and a Trill host are merged, they become a completely new person?" Eytan asked, his gaze sweeping from building to building as he walked. He and Dr. Mazrin Nox were touring the arts district of the Trill capitol, taking a rare break from Eytan's studies.

"Well, something like that," Mazrin replied. "Their thoughts, memories, and personalities blend together, and in some ways, yes, they form a new person."

Eytan frowned. "And what happens to the original Trill?" he wondered. "What happened to Mazrin Siev when the Nox symbiont was joined with him? Was he wiped from existence to make room for Mazrin Nox?"

Mazrin shrugged, apparently uncomfortable with the topic. "His memories and personality still remain, they've simply merged with Nox's."

"That isn't what I asked, Mazrin," Eytan said, stopping and staring at his friend and mentor. "Didn't it bother you knowing that once you'd gone through with the procedure, that would be it, there would be no going back? That the man you were then would be lost forever?"

"Joining with a symbiont is a tremendous honor for any Trill, Eytan. The application and testing procedures are incredibly difficult; there are usually only around three hundred symbionts are available for hosting every *year*. Only one in every one thousand Trill is selected to host a symbionts!" Mazrin explained, not understanding Eytan's problem.

Eytan shook his head. "Yes, well, Brenari can use their telepathy to transfer some of their memories to another Brenari, or to carry someone else's memories for a time. Sometimes it's a side effect of touching a non-telepathic person's mind. But it's different; we don't destroy that other person's very existence in the process."

With a sigh, Mazrin placed a hand on Eytan's shoulder. "You still have much to learn. I can't make you understand the way Trill symbiosis works in a single day; it's far too complicated. Suffice to say, young Master Eytan, you don't know as much as you think you do," the Trill doctor said.

Eytan was about to respond when something in the sky caught his eye. He gazed upward, shielding his eyes against the Trill sun as he tried to make out what he was looking at. "What in the name of God is that?" he wondered, borrowing another common Human term. Mazrin followed his student's gaze and looked up.

The falling object glowed with the fire of atmosphere as it plummeted from orbit. Eytan thought it was a meteorite at first, but as it grew closer it became clearer. His eyes widened in fear and surprise as screams and cries of shock rang through the square. When he heard someone scream that it was a starship over the din, Eytan's mind whirled frantically as he tried to figure out what to do, but he was too surprised and terrified to really comprehend what was happening. Suddenly he and everyone else was running as fast as their feet could take them, mindlessly trampling over anyone who got in their way, their primitive instincts for self-preservation kicking in. Even in its weakened state, Eytan's telepathy was strong enough to pick up the power and intensity of the frenzied thoughts surrounding him from all sides. His mind was bombarded by the feelings of awe, horror, confusion, and primal fear.

With a gasp of pain, his gloved hands surrounding his head, which was ringing with the sudden intrusion of hundreds of terrified minds. He collapsed to his knees and barely had the presence of mind to crawl through the crowd into some form of shelter just before the starship struck and the world exploded in a flash of fire and death. Shockwaves rippled through Eytan's body--and through his mind, as thousands of voices cried out in terror, and then were suddenly silenced. The earth trembled with the impact, and fire swept through the area, burning everything in its path; and the young Brenari, his clothes scorched and his hair and skin singed by the heat, squeezed his eyes shut and kept his ears covered, mentally praying to every god in the Alpha *and* Delta Quadrants for it all to end. And then, suddenly, everything went black.

***

When Eytan awoke, the planet had stopped shaking and most of the fire had died out, but his head was still ringing. He forced himself to come out of hiding, groaning as he crawled back out into the open and pushing himself up onto his feet. He took a moment to steady himself, and then looked around at the wake of destruction. The Brenari cried out in horror at the scene before him: buildings, most of them aflame, were collapsing upon themselves, the streets covered with ash, brick, metal, and stone. There were bodies all around Eytan, but far less than he was expecting; he hoped beyond hope that that meant they had escaped, but a sickening sense of dread awakened him to the possibility that they may have actually been vaporized by the blast. He realized that he could even have been standing on the ashes of some of them, and he staggered, retching, and tried to make his way through the square, searching for someone, anyone, who may have survived along with him. But there was no one. As far as he could tell, and he would probably admit later that his mind wasn't exactly in a clear state, he was the only living person in the immediate are. Eytan was suddenly aware of the thunderous silence of death, and a shudder passed through him as he stumbled his way through the ruins, looking for anyone who could use his help, or who could help him.

"Ground Zero, Part Two"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

After what felt like hours, Eytan came upon what looked like a control center to help aid and rescue groups in the area. ~Well, at least these people work fast,~ Eytan thought, a grim smile on his face as he staggered over towards them. After several moments a pair of Trill medics rushed over to Eytan, each of them throwing one of his arms over their shoulders and practically dragging the Brenari into the control center. Eytan suddenly felt very tired and weak.

"Hang on, sir, we've got you," one of them, a female, said in a soothing face as they carried him into the makeshift shelter. "What's your name?"

"Ey...Eytan," he mumbled in response, blinking. What was wrong with him? He felt fine a moment ago, aside from the sickening feeling that had been at the pit of his stomach since he first saw the devastation caused by that falling starship. "What happened?"

"We're still not completely sure, Mr. Eytan," the Trill replied. "Just try to relax. You look like you've taken a pretty nasty hit to the head. Here, lie down here and I'll check you out." The two Trills lead Eytan to what sort of resembled a biobed, and he laid down on it willingly, relieved to finally be off of his feet. As the medic pried Eytan's eyelids open and shined a light into them, he tried to explain what he saw.

"I was just walking around wi...with Doctor N-Nox, and then suddenly there was this...thing in the sky, falling, dropping from orbit right on top of us. Everyone started screaming and running, and.…" Eytan winced, a hand coming to his head as memories of all those thoughts flashed through his mind again. "I felt the impact before I heard it. It was like an earthquake and a nuclear explosion happening at the same time. Then there was fire, and then suddenly nothing. I woke up and, and.…" he shook his head slowly. "All those people," he lamented. "So many people are dead. Why? Who would do this?!" He tried to push himself up to a sitting position, and was promptly pushed back down.

The Trill medic shook her head at Eytan. "Just take it easy. You have a mild concussion. It's not too serious, but you need to relax for a little while," she ordered.

Eytan suddenly realized where he was and looked around. "Wait, wait! Let me out of here! I'm a doctor, I can help--" he tried and failed to sit up again. "Damn it, please! I'm a Starfleet officer and a doctor. You people need all the help you can get!" Finally the medic placed a hypospray to Eytan's neck and injected him. Suddenly Eytan fell back with a sigh, suddenly feeling very drowsy.

"This is a mild sedative," the medic explained to Eytan. "It won't keep you out for long, but it will help you rest for a little while, at least."

As he began to fade out of consciousness, Eytan heard a voice blaring from somewhere. "...Starfleet has already promised aid, and I'm told that the USS Galaxy is even now en route to...."

"Well, it's about damn time," Eytan mumbled groggily before finally slipping into unconsciousness.

"Crash Course"

Ensign Sh'laran Stellar Cartographer,
USS Galaxy

--The present--

The displaced Andorian loner was in his quarters when the broadcasts about Trill started. Sh'laran had never been there, and, indeed, didn't even know anyone of the species. He'd seen a few, but the planets wasn't even discovered by the Federation in the mid-twenty-second century, so his knowledge about them was somewhat sparse.

He watched the carnage onscreen, and after he could take no more, he grabbed his uniform jacket, fumbling to put it on, the fearful voice of the news anchor droning in the background. He didn't even bother to turn the broadcast off, and when he left the quarters, it was still on, talking to the emptiness of his room.

--Two weeks earlier--

Sh'laran stood in front of the large doors, self-conciously fidgeting with his collar. As grateful as he was to no longer have to pretend that he gave a shit about trying to fly this behemoth of a ship, and as truly ecstatic as he was to be returning to the sciences where he belonged, the fact still remained that a blue shirt looked ridiculous on blue skin.

Taking a nervous breath, he stepped forward, and entered Stellar Cartography for the first time.

The sheer size of the chamber was enough to take his breath away, and the sloping walls only added to the momentary sense of vertigo caused by the ten foot drop from his primary console to the analysis floor.

What was even more staggering was the realization that this one gigantic room belonged almost entorely to him. As the stellar cartographer, this was his playground. Certainly, there were lab technicians who assisted with his work, but the real activity was in his mind, and at his bidding.

There was a certain feeling of a power trip that came with that realization.

He walked purposefully across the bridge to the control console, doing his best not to look down, and sat down in the seat of power. Looking about the chamber, space displayed all around him, he cracked his fingers, put his hands on the console, and hit a button.

The whole chamber went dark.

Clearly, he still had a bit of learning to do.

--The present--

Walking into Stellar Cartography, Sh'laran leaned far out over the rail to glance down at the lower level and see if any of the technicians were there. The room appeared to be empty, and so he went to the console and spun around to face the spot on the vast wall where library readouts were called up. It was time to give himself a very rapid education.

Calling up all the information the computers had on the crash itself, he sighed in irritation. People were dying, but, as was usual with chaos situations, information just wasn't flowing fast enough to help them at the speed they needed. The new broadcast had given him more. With that thought, he pulled up the audio feed, and left that running, in case something useful came up.

What he did have that the Federation media had not yet reported was the name of the ship, though, with the Trill President making a speech in ten minutes, they would likely know that soon enough. He called up the specifications for the Akula, but could only go so far before he had to admit that he really didn't understnd most of what he was reading. He wasn't an engineer, and what little engineering training he did have was over two centuries out of date. Studying the ship clearly wasn't going to help him much.

However, the Akula didn't seem to be in ill repair at the last reported maintainance listing; he was tempted to check her mission logs and crew rosters, but there were other personnel on the Galaxy who would do that; he had more important things to do.

He called up the library listing on Trill, and on the people, trying to skim them for any information he might need. He was going to have to study their joining process much further sometime, as the sybiotic relationship was really quite facinating. The planet itself had a relatively calm history, discounting the parasitic revolution. Just for the sake of curiosity, he called up the Trill star on the wall, and then called up the route to Andoria.

He had to turn his seat and look halfway around the chamber to see it all, and that was just a two-dimensional image; he still hadn't figured out how to use the new holographic stellar environment that turned the whole room into a virtual stellar nursery, with stars and nebulae floating all through the room.

Shaking his head, he decided that he was grateful for all these computers keeping tabs on everything for him; known space had just gotten too damn big to keep track of.

--May 9th, 2164--

Lieutenant Commander Sh'laran sat at his science console on the Miranda's bridge, scanning the Horsehead Nebula just off the small starship's bow. Mapping travel routes around it was never simple for the vessel's pilot, but for the Andorian science officer, mapping survey routes through it was far more difficult. It wasn't exactly a small phenomena, and there were numerous areas that they had to avoid flying through.

Captain Seamus Murdock turned in his seat and looked at him. "Are you almost finished, lad?" he inquired in his deep-set brogue, "We've only been sitting here for three hours."

Sh'laran's antennae twitched in mild irritation. "Captain, I can tell you the name of every single star in this sector; known space isn't exactly a huge area to keep track of; however, if you want to make it through that one little nebula without setting off any combustible gasses in our wake, I recommend a little patience." He tapped a couple more buttons, and the computer finished calculating the trajectory. "There. Now I'm finished."

Murdock chuckled. "Let's see it, Laddie."

The image came up on the Miranda's viewscreen, and most of the bridge crew stared at the convoluted lines, trying to figure out what they were seeing. It was the helmsman who finally spoke up. "Am I the only one not getting this?"

Sh'laran tapped several buttons to make the image rotate slowly on its axis. "There's not much I can do about the image itself, I'm afraid; In order to see it properly, you would need a chamber far larger than any on this ship, and with three-hundred sixty degree spherical visibility. The science of stellar cartography hasn't advanced very far as of yet, and there are only a couple of pioneers in the field."

Murdock offered him a sidelong glance. "Am I correct in assuming that we're talking to one of those pioneers right now?"

Sh'laran twitched an antenna and rewarded his commanding officer with a rare smirk. "Assume whatever you wish. May I continue?"

"By all means, 'Commander."

At that cue, the Andorian gave the bridge crew what was, for most of them, their first lecture on this emerging science.

--The Present--

Sitting in the massive chamber all alone, Sh'laran realized that he'd probably picked the single lonliest post on the ship, though that really didn't bother him too much. Getting to the end of the article on the Trill species, he heard the new anchor announce the President of Trill, and so he turned away and reluctantly called up the video feed, trying to concentrate on the tragedy at hand.

"Waking to a Disaster"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer

Paulo laid having a dreamless sleep when his combadge chirped, causing him to wake up. "Um.... yes?" Paulo finally said trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

["Turn on the news,"] was all he heard as the comm line closed. He thought it was Cora, but who knows.

"Computer, find and bring up the Federation News Network broadcast," Paulo said as he walked over to the replicator. "Coffee, black," A few seconds later his coffee sat there waiting for him, but he never picked it up. The news feed and been brought up and all he saw was destruction on the screen. It was hard to tell at first where it was, but everyone on the screen had the spots of a Trill. "Oh my God...." Paulo trailed off.

<snip> The reporter, who's voice had only moments ago broken into sobs, now had regained his composure, and began to speak once more. "Again....if you are just joining us... tragedy is unfolding. We have unconfirmed reports that a starship has crashed into the planet Trill. What you are seeing now is the capital city of Leran Manev, home to vast libraries, museums and some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Now, devastation is as far as the eye can see. Entire city blocks have been laid to waste. Flames are spreading. There are countless injuries as many are still trapped beneath collapsed structures. Casualties are being estimated in the thousands. No word yet from the Symbiote Commission or President Durghan. We're going to go live to Kal Sigg who is actually at the scene..Kal..." The screen switched to a scratchy and grainy video of a man holding a microphone, covered in dust and soot. He looked over his shoulder and cupped his ear. "Can you hear me? Can you hear me? My ears are still ringing. I can still feel the impact of the ship hitting the planet. The debris is making it hard to breath...Jesus, I have never seen such hell. There are people crying for help...sirens..." A sudden explosion to the reporter's left toppled a wall. The camera could just make out Kal throwing his hands up in the air before the image went black. </snip>

Before the FNN could change back to their station Paulo had put his uniform on and was running out of the door heading for the Intel offices. He could tell that he wasn't going to be getting any sleep or rest like the original plan was. He ran out leaving his steaming cup of coffee in the replicator.

A few minutes later he was standing in the Intel offices going over all the data they had. The FNN was on as the everyone kept watching it from time to time. No matter what anyone said, the news was a great way to get Intel. The data that they were getting was sketchy at best. Casualty reports, people missing. They had a ship name at least, the USS Akula, a Starfleet ship that was due to be decommissioned in six months. No reports from the crew of anything wrong on the ship, so the mystery was, what caused the ship to crash into Trill? Was it an accident? Miscalculation? Sabotage? That was what Paulo needed to find out, and he needed to do it quick.

"Interruption"

Lieutenant Corran Rex
Flight Officer Xiaz Padma

(With an Excerpt from Joe's "Disaster")

Sighing with contentment, Corran Rex rolled off of his compatriot to the other side of the bed. "Did I tell you, Pad" he said, "That I'm glad you transferred aboard?"

Xiaz Padma stretched her arms up over her head, flexing her feet with a grin on her face. "Best damn exercise I've had in months," she said, and laughed deep in her throat as they lay naked, side by side. "You might be a hell of an old geezer, but damn if you don't fu..." Her voice trailed off into a soft moan as she rolled onto her stomach.

"Well," he replied, feeling the urge to stretch himself. "Having been in a long-distance relationship for awhile has left me with some pent up energy."

"Did you finally come to your senses?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she pushed herself up, maneuvering, bracing herself over him. "Humans can be fun. But a monogamous relationship with one? What a bore. Hell. A monogamous relationship with anyone."

"You have always had a unique perspective on that kind of thing, Pad." he replied. "Though I'm convinced. No new relationships for awhile. This sort of thing - well, that suits me just fine."

"As for what happened, I went missing for a couple months - temporal thing, crashed on a desert planet, kept a friend gone psycho from killing another friend, that sort of thing, and when I came back.. well, let's just say she'd moved on. We'd both gotten fed up with the long distance thing over time anyways. Plus, she's a Captain now. What Captain has time for personal lives?"

"Good question," she purred into his ear before nipping at it gently. "But who really gives a shit, when it comes down to it?" She moved to the other before pressing her hands to his chest and raking her nails into his skin. "Live this life, you never know when they'll let you out of the damn pool again."

That brought a snort. "Specially not with the moratorium on joinings. Aside from that, this is probably my last go."

"Then you definitely need to enjoy this one," she said grinning devilishly. "I'm sure we can get another run or two in before training..."

"Well, I'm up for that." he replied with a grin, looking down. "Pun intended."

Just as things were getting interesting, however, the viewer on the wall in Corran's bedroom flicked on. It was programmed to come on automatically if certain words were triggered in the news feed.

The Federation News Service symbol flashed on the screen then, showing a picture of devastation that both Trill's instantly recognized. It was Leran Manev, capitol city of their home world.

And it was in flames.

"By the Creator.." Rex muttered, jaw handing wide in astonishment as the reporter began to speak.

"Again....if you are just joining us... tragedy is unfolding. We have unconfirmed reports that a starship has crashed into the planet Trill. What you are seeing now is the capital city of Leran Manev, home to vast libraries, museums and some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Now, devastation is as far as the eye can see. Entire city blocks have been laid to waste. Flames are spreading. There are countless injuries as many are still trapped beneath collapsed structures. Casualties are being estimated in the thousands. No word yet from the Symbiosis Commission or President Durghan. We're going to go live to Kal Sigg who is actually at the scene.. Kal..."

The screen switched to a scratchy and grainy video of a man holding a microphone, covered in dust and soot. He looked over his shoulder and cupped his ear. "Can you hear me? Can you hear me? My ears are still ringing. I can still feel the impact of the ship hitting the planet. The debris is making it hard to breath...Jesus, I have never seen such hell. There are people crying for help...sirens..." A sudden explosion to the reporter's left toppled a wall. The camera could just make out Kal throwing his hands up in the air before the image went black. The broadcast went back to the central news office as the feed cut out.

She didn't feel the edge of the panel jamming into her back as she was pressed against the wall by her flight commander. Both Trills' attention was focused on the screen, despite its blank state at the moment. "That kinda kills the mood, doesn't it?" Pad muttered. "Fuck."

"I'd say that it does." he whispered. Something like this deeply affected any Trill, be they joined or unjoined. Whatever their feelings on the symbionts, all of their people had a deep and abiding respect for the past. They practically worshipped history. Trill was home to some of the most excellently preserved historical artifacts anywhere in the quadrant.

For a tragedy like this to occur was bad enough. For it to happen in the capitol - the oldest city on the planet... it was unspeakable.

A moment later, the image of a Trill woman, one sitting in the office of the President, appeared on the screen.

"Lirisse.." he whispered, not even realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"Citizens of Trill." she said, her clear voice ringing across the office, and on all broadcast frequencies planetwide. " Half an hour ago, the Federation Starship Akula crashed into a portion of the arts district of Leran Manev. Emergency crews are on the scene. We do not know the death toll yet, though I urge anyone with the appropriate skills to please make their way to the Capitol to assist in aid and rescue efforts as soon as possible. The Emergency Management Agency has already set up a control center near the affected zone." "I urge everyone to please keep the speculation to the cause of this horrific accident to themselves. This is a dark day for Trill, but we do not need to make it worse by jumping to conclusions." "Starfleet has already promised aid, and I'm told that the USS Galaxy is even now en route to assist us in rescue efforts, as well as in our investigation of this incident." "Again, I urge all available citizens who can help to do so. That is all."

"At least we'll be there," Pad said, pushing him away from her, sliding from the wall as she grabbed her clothing and replaced it as she followed the trail through the room. "Do something about it." She sighed as she looked back at him -- he was a good looking man, she had to give him that. "Damn. I was hoping to get off again." A pause. "Rex." She snapped her fingers. "Rex. We should get to flight deck."

"No point yet." he said, shaking the shock off, and grabbing the commbadge from his nightstand with one hand, and his piled uniform with the other. "We're still at least a day out from Trill, even at maximum warp. We've got a briefing this afternoon - let everyone relax till then. I'm .. I'm going to talk to the Captain."

"Fine," she said, pulling her shirt over her head. "I'm going to the flight deck. Run simulator or something I have to fucking do... something."

"Good idea." he replied. "God.. I wish this morning had gone uninterrupted."

ooc: backpost from way way back up till present day. sort of.

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile
Marine Recon Specialist

"There is nothing finer, more proud and more deadly than a Starfleet Marine." the crewcut Marine gunnery sergeant had begun. "I could tell you about the other branches - the engineers, the security, the farce called the Diplomatic Corpse. If you want to settle for second best, then that is your choice, but if you don't.." he paused and his eyes bore down on the gathered young men and women like the barrel on a 20th centurary tank, "But if you don't settle for anything but the best, if you don't settle for finishing second, if you want to be all that you can be and more..." He stopped, letting every steely word sink in as he turned his head left to right. "Then the Starfleet Marines is what you are looking for." As soon as the whispering began he raised a hand, indexfinger pointing up towards the ceiling. "BUT.. " the marine called out, silencing the whispers in an instant. "BUT the Starfleet Marines does not accept anything but the best. Recruits are pushed. Recruits are beaten. Recruits are broken. Recruits are pushed to the limits and beyond. Those that do not make the cut should be remembered with honor for they tried, which is more than I can say for any other branch. But the ones who still stand after being pushed, beaten and broken - they are Marines. And I say again - There is nothing finer, more proud and more deadly than a Starfleet Marine!"

How fine and dandy that all had sounded. Nothing finer. More Proud. More Deadly. How many young men and women had not bought it? He knew he had. Line, sink, hook and bait. Hell, he had swallowed the fisherman for fuck's sake. Shame that piece of no good selfcentered smug bastard of a recruitmentofficer had forgotten to mention a few other things. That would have been the kicker to hear the gunny say the rest. "There is no one more messed up, more angry than a Starfleet Marine. You will have nightmares, you will feel numb when you are not out on missions, you will be haunted by the faces of the people you kill, you will kill innocents. Ain't life grand, Marines?"

Those words would never be said. Young men and women would fall just as hard for the pretty words as he had. But the gunny hadn't been bullshitting completely. Jebidiah Baile had turned into one tough solid-brick-in-the-head kinda guy. He had been shooting, terminating, assualting, boarding, destroying, saving, and flat out beating the crap out of more people and things than he cared to remember. There were places he didn't even know the names of and there were places he wished he didn't remember at all. Baile was in a way a viscious sob. Like most veterans he nurtured an impressive amount of contempt for other branches, as the past had taught him that when things went south, other branches would retreat and the Marines would be sent in to do the killing and the dying.

It didn't mean that the other branches were not tough - individually. Baile knew some pretty mean hombres in other branches, but as units they couldn't really match the Marines. Not that it mattered much. He was a lousy engineer and left tinkering with starships to the ones that knew how to do it. Same with docs. Marines trained how to make the opponents bleed, scream and die - not in any particular order, so patching people up beyond basic medicskills was not his strongest side. Most Marines respected the skills of others - a good doc was always a great asset, a skilled engineer could turn a bad day into a very good one. Security - well. Security.... hell.. he didn't know what they contributed with, but as long as he didn't have to run around on the ship like that he was a happy man.

You would rarely hear a Marine instruct a surgeon on how to patch someone up or tell an engineer how to fix a breach of some sorts. It was however, both irritating as hell and funny in a dark ironic sort of way that the same doc, the same engineer would at times tell Marines how to fight. It was the same for all branches. They'd get some either really green and inexperienced fresh graduate or they'd get stuck with some die-hard wannabe intent on making a career as fast as possible. It was a close run on which ones were the worst. People doing everything by the book or the ones who thought they knew how to fight next to Marines.

Baile fit the unspoken words like a glove. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept peacefully without drinking himself into a stupor. Faces without names came to him in his sleep and looked at him with accusations in their eyes. So he either drank, fought or exhausted himself until they stopped looking. At times the looks were so intense he did all three.

Getting up from the chair he downed his drink in one go and slammed the glass upside down. The table was filled with small shotglasses, all of them empty and upside down. He took of the shirt and tossed it to Riley, medic of Bravo Company, rolled his neck until several cracking noises could be heard. Geist and Freeway got up as well and started whistling and shouting. Baile made his way towards the ring, feeling the rush of adrenaline through the booze in his body. When Marines didn't have a war to fight, they found someone else to fight. In Baile's case that meant brawls. One ring, four minutes and no rules.

Warning: graphic post. Read at your own discretion.

flashback - Stardate 53528.6543, Alpha Company, Delta Platoon.

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile
Host of supportnpc's

"I mean you just gotta love these guys..." Slayne, the designated sharpshooter of the infamous Crows platoon. "They're tough, nasty, antiheros, 'ates to bathe an' de braincapacity of a runway photon."

Next to him lay Papa Beuchamps, a darkskinned man with a flavour for old time voodoo and its secrets. Beachamps looked at him with the only expression his face seemed to have - blank.

"Bah... you no fun.. " Slayne frowned, stopped long enough to take careful aim and place a colorless beam straight in the chest on his target 1200 feet away. "But ya gotta admit, " he began again after smiling wide as the body slumped to the ground, ".. damn I'm good.. anyways. Ya gotta admit that it's maghty nice of em to take cover like tha."

A few feet away another man seemed to materialize when he came closer. The dense and thick jungle had kept him hidden. "What's so damn good about that?" he asked sourly and wiped the sweat of his forehead. "Fuckers dug in good now."

Slayne fired another wide smile at the newcomer, rifleman Hendricks, "Cause 'dis way we don' 'ave to run after 'dem.. just sit back an let Flea slit throats all nite.."

Spitting tobacco on the ground Hendricks frowned. "And why the hell should that pissant have all the fun?"

"Oh I don know Sunshine.. maybeh cause ya make moe ruckuss 'dan a virgin in a whurehouse.."

Hendricks eyes became narrow slits and his face darkened. Beauchamps watched the two with detached interest. "You calling me a virgin, buckboy?"

The sharpshooter shook his head, his white teeth in stark contrast to the greasepaint in his face. "No.. ya ain't no virgin... ya be more of a whurehouse.."

"That's better Buckee..." the rifleman grinned and headed back into the jungle just as quietly as he had emerged from it.

The rough voice of Caileb Smith broke through over the comset. "Alright you wimps... get in position.. two by two.. I want these asshats to feel the pain.. Flea, Saar - take out their scouts. Pegel, Hendricks, Rat, Bones - flank. Slayne - cover us.. and use a real gun instead of that flashlight you're using. Let's do this right... Ooorah.."

The grin widened even more as Slayne put down the phaser rifle and broke out his main gun. Firing a beam was nothing compared to using a real slug thrower. The rifle was a miracle of modern gunsmithing and technology. Light, durable and with a stoppingpower that would have put an elephant to shame. Magnetic recoilsystem, floating barrel, lightweight frame but more importantly - at least to Slayne - it looked cool.

Far from the safety of the rest to the team Baile made his way through the jungle. "Got two uglies here. Taking them out." he whispered into the larynxmicrophone. Another two minutes and the left flank would be open. Choosing his steps carefully he approached the targets quickly. They never saw him coming. He wasn't sure what they had been expecting, but he doubted a Special Ops unit had been one of them. Despite standing less than ten feet apart, the man up front had never heard when Baile buried his knife in the throat of his target. Carefully he had laid the body down, pulled a much slimmer knife which he had thrown, burying it deep in the neck of the front man.

"Flea done." he reported and wiped the blood off the blade on the clothes of the dead man, the two dead enemies no longer existing in his world.

"Work your way in, Flea.... leave no one behind you." Smith ordered him. Not that Baile had the habit of leaving enemies alive. Neither of them did unless the orders stated otherwise.

Silently he worked his way towards the enemy entrenchment, taking out two additional guards on his way. "Flea in position." he reported in and checked his rifle on last time.

"Flea don't say much, does he?" Slayne said to Beauchamps, took one look at the black man's face. "Ya sur ya don' ave de same momma? Cause ya both real ugly.."

A movement in the scope caught Slayne's attention. Tapping a button on the scope he switched it to thermal imaging and scanned the area, finding what he was looking for a few seconds later. Two men, crouching low and unidentified by the IFF - Identify Friend or Foe - transponder. "Where ya'll goin' ma lil' luvbirds?" With that he ended their lives - two bullets, one in each head pulled the life out of their bodies.

Baile closed in, pulling out a thin, but very strong line made of metal. Attached to each side was to rubberized grips, roughly two inches long. It had one single purpose and was put to use a minute later. He paused and listened after the next one. He knew he was out there, but so far the target managed to stay hidden.

Caileb Smith, a man who considered war a hobby and hell a spa, pushed forward, confident that Flea and Saar had cleared the flanks. If they hadn't he'd kill them himself. Heraclitus once said "Out of every 100 men, ten shouldn't be there, eighty were just targets, nine are the real fighters, and you should be lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, One is a warrior and he will bring the others back."

Smith believed those words and had taken them to his heart the moment he had read them almost fifteen years ago. The Crows were the result of those words. His unit didn't have people that shouldn't be there. It didn't have targets. It didn't have fighters. It had eight real warriors. Mean sons of bitches who understood war, who wasn't afraid to carry the burden of the foul deeds.

Another man, Arthur Wellesley, known as the Duke of Wellington in 1810, once said "I don't know what effect these men will have upon the enemy, but by God they terrify me." That described the Crows down to the letter. They didn't exist of course. The name Crows existed only within the group and to the people who enough about the secrets of the Federation to loose sleep over it. Had the Crows not volunteered for missions everyone else had considered suicide? Had the Crows not walked bravely where no one else had wanted to stand? Yet they all lived and breathed. Not a single person had been lost. Not one. The wars belonged to them.

With the flanks taken out Saar and Baile worked their way to the center where the rest of the team had disposed of what little resistance remained on the outside. Clearing the old bunker would take even less time. It didn't matter to the team what sort of enviroment they fought in. They knew how to win. Knew how to walk away unhurt.

From the inside it appeared as all the demons of hell had turned against them. In ten minutes they had lost contact with the sentrys, gone blind when the sensors got jammed and now the gates of hell had opened. One by one the defenders got gunned down, pushed back until only a handful remained deep inside the bunker, protected by blast doors.

Saar and Baile cleared their sector as fast they could, gunning down whatever resistance they encountered. As long as they kept pressing the enemy didn't have much time to react, time to mount a counterattack. But push an animal into a corner and it will push back. The enemy had realised early on that their attackers was no ordinary securityteam that had come to capture them. These attackers had no intention of letting them get away alive. None at all. And so far they didn't even know what their attackers looked like. They had been like ghosts, striking fast, silent and deadly. The power had been killed long ago, even the backup generator had been destroyed through sabotage. Nothing but darkness and flashlights seemed to exist in the narrow corridors.

Normally the teams were careful, but the enemy was falling back so quickly they had to hurry to keep up. Saar pushed forward while Baile cleared a room next to them. Saar saw one of them in the corner of his eye, but wasn't fast enough to eliminate the threat. They fought for their lives, with strength born out of sheer desperation, tackling Saar to the ground. He tried to train his gun on his attacker, but the Nausicaan was simply too strong, too desperate. The rifle got knocked out of Saar's hands and the alien slammed the Marine into the wall. Saar felt a strong hand close around his neck, cutting off his breath, but the veteran was far too experienced to lose his composure. Like any other Marine he carried several backup weapons and without rushing it he started reaching for the knife he carried strapped to the combatgear.

Baile heard the fight long before he saw it. Raising his rifle Baile hurried out into the corridor after Saar, only to see him pinned up against a wall by a fairly massive Nausicaan. There wasn't much time since the rest of the team counted on them to clear their sector. The main rifle would be too slow and the impracticality of using a rifle in a confined space would outweigh the stoppingpower. He slung his rifle on his back and pulled out the sidearm, jogged up to the Nausicaan and placed four bullets in the temple. For Saar the noise was deafening.

"Fuck man!" Baile's companion shouted, the left side of his face covered with Nausicaan brainsubstance and blood. "Dammit.." Saar wiped away some of the substance with his hand and walked over to his gun. "I fucking hate when you do that... couldn't you just have smacked his head in?" With a frown he tried to wipe off more blood from his shoulders. "Man... this is gonna stink when this shit dries.."

Holstering his sidearm Baile shrugged and walked past. "I was aiming for you..."

"Funny man.. real fucking funny.." Saar replied with a sour look on his face. "Man.. it's already starting to smell.."

The interruption had slowed them down long enough for their targets to escape them. Baile put the safety back on and walked up towards the rendevouz. Behind him Saar kept trying to wipe the blood off the uniform.

Hendricks looked at them through the goggles. "Saar.. what the hell is that smell?" he frowned as Baile and Saar walked past him.

"Nausciaan brain.." Baile replied before Saar could say anything.

Pegel, a fairly bulky Bolian, fired him a wide grin. "When are you going to start using your visual receptors instead of the pea sized common sense you have been given?"

"What the fuck! Flea shot him and you get on my back?!"

Checking his gun Caileb looked at them. "Cut the chatter ladies... we're not done yet.. Bones, you download the data when we get the padd back. I want a backup on it and if you leave a trace I'll string you up by the balls..."

The communications and securityexpert Romanov "Bones" Tepes frowned at the hidden insult. As an expert slicer and hacker he would never leave a trace in something as crude as a datapadd. "Don't worry Chief... Intel won't see a thing.."

The thick blastdoor was already closed, effectively forcing the team to find a way to get through it. That was the idea anyway. When they had intercepted the enemyforce, Caileb's had tried to anticipate the enemy reaction. For once Starfleet Intelligence had managed to provide him with a fairly accurate profile of the enemy commander. He wasn't interested as much in the person as he was in where he had received his training. Maps showed a few positions they might retreat to, but none of them as attractive as three abandoned fortifications from the Dominion war.

He had sent Flea, Saar and Pegel in advance, moving around the enemy without being seen, to the fortifications. Once there they had boobytrapped strategic points, such as generators, doorlocks and several rooms in case resistance got too tough.

Just as Caileb had hoped, the enemy commander had chosen to retreat to one of the fortifications once they began to take out his men one by one. As predicted the enemy commander had valued the information highly, hoping to find a way out or at least make a stand long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

Three jammers had made sure any attempt to communicate would be very difficult, but there was no way to stop communications completely. Just like Starfleet personnel could make gadgets or bypass electronic interference so could the enemy.

Caileb had learned Baile one thing the second he transferred to Crows - it was a qoute by Martin Van Creveld, a military historian; "The enemy resembles us. Therefore, he needs to be approached not as an assembly of 'targets' to be destroyed one by one; but as a living, intelligent entity capable of acting and reacting."

If Starfleet had one flaw in their training was that the personnel were prone to overconfidence. Enemies were treated as idiots and halfwits, seemingly incapable of rational and calculating thinking. Baile had soon learned that Caileb always treated an enemy with respect. All it took was a stray shot to ruin the day completely. Veterans all knew that no plan never survived first contact with the enemy. Thus Caileb never made elaborate plans. Instead he gathered as much information about the enemy as possible and set up goals for the team to complete. He drilled them constantly to be able to improvise on their own and not be afraid to do it either. One of the keywords he used was Simple. Don't get into a knife fight if you could end it with a gun before it started. Simple worked. Complicated got people killed.

Saar had placed several charges inside the room, small charges filled with tiny steel bullets, roughly one tenth of an inch in diameter. From a pocket Pegel pulled out a remote detonator, flipped the cover, making a red led start blinking.

Hendricks leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. "Here comes the pain..."

Outside the room the explosions weren't even heard, but everyone knew what happened behind the door. Tiny steel bullets tore flesh to pieces, turned the room into a an inferno of screams and pain. They waited a few more minutes before Cailed nodded at Pegel to open the door.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" Saar said out loud to no one in particular when they stepped inside. They had torn through the enemy like a scythe, guiding them to where they wanted them to be. "Did Intel say these guys were commandos?" The bodies were riddled with holes, transformed into a bloody mess. Pegel's bombs were small pieces of deadly art and they had worked exactly like intended. Saar pushed aside an unconnected wrist and grimaced. "Fuck.."

Cailed turned to Baile who just nodded and walked inside, starting to search the devastated bodies for the datapadd. Saar just looked at him with disgust as Baile grabbed a body by the collar and shoved the body to the side, oblivious to the blood that oozed out from the torn body.

Saar and Hendricks stepped inside with greater care than Baile. The charges could have made any grenades the enemy had carried unstable and they didn't want to end a rather good day like that. Saar nearly jumped when what he had thought had been a dead body suddenly started to move. "Whoa... we have a live one here.." he called out and pulled out a first aid kit from his pocket. He never got close enough to help. Saar felt a hand grab him and as he tried to regain his balance he saw Baile slide past him with a knife in his hand. The scout put his hand over the survivor's mouth and with ease of practice slit his throat.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Saar screamed at Baile who turned around with dark eyes. Saar took a step forward, somewhat shocked at what Baile had just done. "He could have he.."

That was all Saar had time to say. Baile slammed him up against the wall behind him, grabbing him by the throat. "No survivors...." he said with an even voice, as if those two word would justify what he had just done. Saar opened his mouth to speak, but the look in Baile's eyes shut him up.

Just as quickly as he had grabbed Saar, he let him go and tossed the datapadd they had been looking for over to Caileb. Grabbing his gun from Slayne, Baile left the rest of the team behind, heading out to make sure there wasn't any patrols in the area.

"He's right kid.." Cailed said to Saar as soon as Baile had left. Saar wasn't about to give up the easy. "He was no threat.. we could have gotten information out of him."

The commanding officer nodded. "True. We could have. On the other hand we would have to drag a man with us for the next five days. It would slow us down considerably, and in case you haven't noticed we are so deep up the enemy ass we can almost scratch him in the throat.."

"It wasn't in combat.." Saar tried, but Caileb only looked at him, both annoyed and surprised at the same time.

"Of course it is combat. To me there's only combat and more combat and since I run this outfit you'd do best to adapt to that." the charismatic CO informed the newest member of the squad. "One day we will retire and that's the day I want to be sipping real margaritas on some sunny beach until my dying days. You know why?" he asked and looked at Saar.

The scout thought it best to just be quite, figuring Caileb would supply him with the answer.

"Because you deserve better than Starfleet is giving you.. We all deserve better. We're the ones doing all the hard work while the brass gets all the credit. Do you see the Generals and Admirals out here with us? Fuck no... " he tossed the datapadd to Bones. "I'm not happy with the retirementplan Starfleet has for us. I've watched you bleed and hurt too many times for that."

Although he was the newest member of the team, and considered a good pointman, Saar realised there was a lot more to the Crows than met the eye. He had always admired them, but now he was beginning to question that very same admiration.

Caileb sensed the conflict in him and calmly looked at Saar. "I know it is not what you expected, but you wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you have potential to become a damn good scout. No matter what there is no one, and I mean no one, that can take away the good we do for the Federation. You all do more than I could ever ask of you, all the time. You make this all happen, not me, and you deserve more."

It wasn't until later Saar realised Baile had snuck in behind him, waiting for a sign from Caileb. He knew Baile would have slit his throat in a second if Caileb had wanted him too, and agreeing with Caileb right there and then was the only reason he was still alive.

But of all the people in Crows, Baile scared Saar the most. Especially when he realised that the expression Slayne used, to have Baile run around and slit throats all night, was nothing but the truth. Flea was a broken and torn man if Saar had ever seen one. And yet he had to admit, despite all the shady deals Caileb made with all sorts of people, they did a lot of good for the Federation. It was kind of a shame no one would ever know about it though.

Or maybe that was for the better after all.

“All Hands“

(Occurs immediately after ‘Disaster’)

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M’Kantu

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain’s Ready Room

Daren closed his eyes for a moment and tried to shut out the images broadcast from the Trill homeworld that echoed inside his head, bringing back equally horrific images of the ruined cities he’d seen across the Federation during and after the War. He’d hoped never to see the like again, but, like many things, Allah had other plans for him. With a sigh he pushed the images aside, and straightened his shoulders. Just because he did not want the burden that Allah had seen fit to give him, didn’t mean that he would shoulder it. That was, after all, how Allah measured a man – by how he bore the tasks allotted to him.

Whatever else he might have failed at in his personal life, Daren had never yet failed the trust that the Federation, his crews, and Allah had placed in his ability to handle the tasks assigned him as a Captain in Starfleet.

He took a breath, keyed open the comm on his desk, and let the orders slip out in rapid succession.

“M’Kantu to Henderson. Go to Yellow Alert, Number One. All departments to prepare for disaster relief.”

“M’Kantu to Dallas. Place your department on alert status. Disaster counseling to be made available to all Trill personnel aboard the Galaxy immediately.

“M’Kantu to Dobryin. Get me everything you can on the USS Akula. I want to know what she was doing there, who was commanding her, and what to expect from her when we start disaster relief operations.

“M’Kantu to all hands.” Daren paused for a moment as his voice echoed throughout the ship. “The Galaxy is responding to a disaster on the Trill homeworld at best possible speed. All that is known at the moment is that a Federation starship, reported to be the USS Akula, has crashed on the surface of the planet in a densely populated area. Once we arrive, disaster operations will commence immediately. This is... this is one of the reasons that we exist, that Starfleet exists: to provide hope and assistance in the face of overwhelming disaster. I believe in you, but more importantly, the people of the Federation, and especially the people of Trill, believe in you - and with the power of that belief behind you, each and every one of you can work miracles. In a few short hours, you will be called on to deliver those miracles and you will, even if you don’t think you can… because the power of that belief behind you, and inside you, will sustain you and give you the strength to reach beyond yourself and be the heroes that the people of Trill need.”

He stopped and waited for the echoes of his voice to die down. “Remember that. M’Kantu out.”

"First Impressions.....Lasting impressions....."

Joint Post by:
Correy Smith, Flight Officer, USS Galaxy
and
Alexia of Sumar, Security Officer, USS Galaxy

(Slight Backpost about our arrival onboard)

== Location: Trill==
== Time: 08.30hrs ==

Correy’s nose twitched as he came around, the steam that eased through the crack between the door and floor was filling the room. He slowly began to move. Rolling slowly onto his back, he expected to be welcomed by the slim brunette he had met last night. Instead, the only comfort that he received came from the warm spot where she had laid only a few minutes ago. Noticing the steam, it clicked. ~~Shit, she’s awake…She’s in the shower… okay, calm…. ~~ His stomach stirred with the sudden movement, a result of the alcohol he had consumed the night before.

A panic came over him as he *slowly* slid from beneath the bed covers and across the floor to the mangled pile of clothes he had created the night before. He quickly un-tangled the clothes whilst holding the contents of his stomach in and dressing himself, ensuring he kept one eye on the closed door at all times. With himself completely dressed he darted sharply, yet quietly towards the front door of the apartment. The floor boards, not happy with his decision to leave their owner, creaked with every opportunity given to them.

He reached out his hand to open the door and paused. Turning slowly to face the bedroom once again he hesitated. Moving slowly back again, he grabbed the pen that he remembered seeing earlier on the side table, and taking the back of a letter scribbled out a note. “Last night was great, thanks, see you around, mark”.

He dropped the pen and the paper, and then reached for the pen again. He added three kisses to the end of the note and then froze as the sound of the shower stopped. He heard the girl, who he now remembered to be called ~~Alex or Alexia?! No Alexia ~~ move from the shower towards the door.

Once again he darted for the door, this time taking a little less care. As he yanked open the door he could hear her exit the bathroom. Out in the corridor he felt safe, and turning, slowly pulled the door shut behind him. He took a second or two to lean against the opposite wall and catch his breath and thoughts. He thought back to the previous night, he felt a little shame at the lies he had told her - but he realised that whether he was in finance or not really didn’t matter to her now. He’d never see her again…

Tucking in his shirt he managed to move off again and continue down the corridor and stairs, out onto the busy street. With only a short distance to go until he reached his holding quarters, he decided to walk. Moving down the street, weaving through the various species, he took note of the sparkling sea to his left, the busy shops on his right, and the cute little blonde who wiggled in front of him.

He slowed his pace once he was sure he was well clear of Alexia’s apartment and started to relax into a pace that reflected the mood of the planet he was on. It was the second time he’d visited Trill, the first being when he was twelve, a while before the death of his father. He liked it here, no hassle of work, no sense of urgency, and yet things seemed to get done.

Turning the corner, the large structured accommodation came into his view, glancing at the federation logo that was positioned at the entrance he moved toward the inward door and proceeded to his temporary quarters. Walking in he couldn’t help notice the clutter that was positioned near the door. He saw no sense in unpacking, by tomorrow night he’d be on the Galaxy,

The hot drips of fresh water dripped onto the floor as the young woman reached with her outstretched arm to grab the towel across the room. Trying to be quiet as to not awaken her slumbering stranger. As she pulled it around her body she wandered quietly towards the door where she expected him to still be.

Last night was certainly a surprise and a new experience for the young Nryani. Even after leaving her home world four years ago there were still many things about the galaxy that she didn't understand... especially the drinks he had given her last night. What were they called again... Tequila? Rubbing the ache away from her neck she stared into the dark room, finding something she didn't expect.

He was gone...

Heaving a sigh of disappointment Alexia of Sumar began to understand exactly what had happened last night. At the academy she had friends that had helped her to better understand alien cultures, and to keep her out of trouble. But here she was on her own. Her naive perception of the galaxy was a problem still.

"So this is what a one night stand feels like afterwards..." the young Nryani muttered as she let the towel drop onto the floor. Moving towards the floor she picked up the dress she had worn the night before and looked upon it with a scornful gaze. "Jerk..." she grumbled with a toss as the new dress fell into the garbage.

Moving toward the closet Alexia pulled out one of her uniforms and pulled it on. She wasn't about to be caught in another dress while on this world. Glancing over towards her chronometer she found a small sense of relief that in a few hours she would be on board the Galaxy where she could forget about this `Mark` Smith. He'll just be left behind on this world... nothing more than a bad memory.

His back stung as the water poured onto it. Stepping away from the shower head he glared at the scratches on his back. He didn’t remember those last night. ~~ bitch…. ~~ he thought as a smile came across his face. He tested the water on his back again and the scratches once again burned in pain. He continued trying the water, and after a few attempts it became bearable. He soaked his hair as the computer beeped.

“Incoming transmission” it stated, not sounded as monotone as usual. Correy couldn’t help but wonder whether the computer had been watching him in the shower. “yer you like that don’t ya!” He laughed as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around him.

“Computer, play transmission” the computer beeped in recognition as the screen turned from black to blue. Then, a woman dressed in regular Starfleet uniform appeared. She was quite old in appearance, bitter in tone of voice. Even though it was only a recoding, Correy felt a little violated and tightened the towel around his waist.

“Good morning to you all, I am Commander Taylor, head of Starfleet personnel in this sector. As a result of your transfer to the USS…” there was a slight pause as she looked down “Galaxy, you will be leaving tonight and should be ready with all of your belongings at the vehicle port ready for your transport away from this planet and to your new assignment. The crew of the Galaxy are making final preparations and will be arriving shortly. We await your arrival later this evening at Vehicle port nine alpha. Taylor out”

Alexia continued to comb her hair as the same recording ended on the screen on her wall. Despite how disappointing her early morning had been, it was a relief to know that she was going to leave this world soon enough, along with all the brief memories she would leave behind. "I wonder if I'll ever return to this place," she paused for a moment, considering that.

Her career in Starfleet would no doubt lead her to many worlds, but she had to wonder if her ventures would return her to this place some time in the near or distant future. Glancing over towards her belongings, most of which had been packed except for her personal hygiene equipment, she deactivated the program and sat down on the soft bed. The blankets were still ruffled from the night before, and were filled with the aroma of their lovemaking.

Shaking those thoughts from her mind the young Nryani got up with a start and finished packing her things. Despite all her efforts however, she couldn't shake his face from her mind... nor his smile. It was very frustrating. "Jerk!" She exclaimed suddenly sending her towel across the room, leaving her bare. "Oh come on he wasn't that good anyways?!" She muttered angrily as she stepped over to the chair and began to don on her uniform.

Plopping herself down on the chair because she didn't want to get caught in that bed again, she stared ever so intently at the strewn sheets, then down to the dress from last night. "1900? That will be an awfully long time to wait."

***

Evening was fast approaching, and a slight breeze had picked up as Correy lay silently on his balcony. The view of the Sea was awesome, and glaring at it visions of the night before slipped into his mind. He couldn’t help but doubt his actions, knowing full well that he was leaving behind something that could potentially be good for him, commitment. His trouble though, was his fear of commitment, a trait that sometimes made him out to be a bit insensitive, or in normal terms, an arsehole.

It all stemmed back to his days at the academy, Sarah Zuella, and the whole rape allegation. That night had ruined his life and the bitter truth was….. he didn’t even know the truth. The blur of the night meant for him he would have to live with the possibilities for life. It wrecked his time at the academy, and eventually became the reason for him leaving his first ship, The Avenger.

Did he have it in him to do such a thing?

For another moment or two he lay in the breeze watching, thinking, resting, and then suddenly another thought popped into his head.

“Computer, time?”

“The current time is 18:15hrs”

“At last” he said with a sigh of relief. He stood, wondering where Alexia was now, wondering if she was thinking of him, then wiped the thought in a second with the vision of beauty that walked the pavement below. He remembered her from a few weeks ago, when he first arrived on Trill – Brillania was her name. He smiled to himself and moved back into the apartment, closing the doors behind him.

Having dropped of his main luggage earlier on, he set his eyes on the two small cases that still remained on the floor, near the door, and taking one last look around, set for the door.

Alexia picked up the last of her bags and ventured out the doors, not looking back. She was glad to get off this world even in the short time she had been on it. She couldn't wait to begin her adventures, to meet new people... hopefully not another Mark.

Turning the corner, the terminal came into view, with what seemed like thousands of runabouts and personnel craft hovering in the skies above. He made his way to the display screen and looked for directions to his shuttle.

The streets were buzzing as several people dressed in the uniform of a starfleet officer clammored into the terminal building. Heaving an audible sigh of anxiety, the young Nryani pressed through the crowds and into the terminal.

“I’m going to need an eye scan sir, just this way” said the official at the door to the shuttle, “standard procedure” she said again, noticing Correy’s discomfort at the thought. He stood still as she raised the hand help scanner to his eye.

“Thank you Ensign Smith she stated with the aid of the scanner. “You’re all set to board, enjoy your flight”

“Thanks a lot” he replied as he continued onboard the large transport vehicle.

The bright light left her feeling somewhat blinded for a moment as the eye scanner completed its cycle. It was strange for a moment, because she sensed something familiar about the person ahead. Before her eyes could readjust however, he... or she had already gone inside.

Stepping into the transport herself, Alexia was surprised to see how many people had already boarded. She couldn't see the 'familiar' person anywhere, and assumed it to be her imagination. Perhaps she was missing her friends on Earth too much. As soon as she found an open seat she took it, closing her eyes and breathing an audible sigh of relief.

"Ladies and Gentlement, please secure your gear and take your seats... the transport will be departing shortly. In the event of an emergency..."

The words of the attendant slowly slipped from her mind as the young Nryani focused on the lights outside. It was dark outside, and the scattered lights reminded her a lot of the plain fields on Nryani where fireflights buzzed around actively. "Nryani..." she uttered lightly, "When will I see you again?"

“Thank you for your attention and we hope that you enjoy your short flight with us this evening”

The internal comm. System beeped as the attendant finished her safety checks. Whilst she did so, Correy sunk his body back into his seat and tried to relax before the rush of transferring set in for good. He didn’t take too much time to take in the people around him, to be honest he wasn’t really bothered. He was just glad of the empty seat next to him.

As people settled down he became aware of a row starting nearer the back of the cabin, he wasn’t in the mood for confrontation, so remained facing forwards.

“This is my seat” he heard a man’s voice shout. His raised voice brought a prompt reply from the attendant.

“Sir, calm down… there’s a seat right up front.”

“I don’t like being at the front, I want this seat”

Correy poked his head round to take a glance, as did everyone else on board. The man was stood next to a young lady - the top of her head could be seen over the seats. She was brunette and obviously occupying the seat that the large, greying chubby man claimed to have taken ownership of.

Whilst turned around Correy realised that the commotion wasn’t as far back as he had first thought, and was actually only a few rows behind him.

“Excuse me, sir… there’s a seat right here” Correy interrupted in the hope of calming the man and putting an end to the delay. The man didn’t take too kindly to his interjection.

“Listen sunny, this stupid little bi…” the man started

“hey, that’s enough! Watch your language, we got women on here, show a little respect…” Correy returned sharply interupting.

He spoke without thinking, and then took a small moment to consider the irony of what he had just done. His behaviour towards women over the past few years hadn’t been much different, but this man was just rude. Then he did something that could’ve caused a lot more trouble than help. He stood up to face the man.

“Now are you going to sit down, or do I have to…” he was stopped by someone touching his arm. He looked down to his right to see Alexia – the `girl in the seat`. At first glance he stumbled on his words, and his trail of thought was gone.

“Its okay” she replied, “I’ll take the seat upfront… I think you and I need to talk later, Mark...” with that, the young woman stepped up from her seat, and without collecting her items started towards the front of the transport, "If that's really your name." She finished without looking at him, feeling betrayed even more than before. Not only had the stranger left her, but he had lied to her about being a civilian on this world.

Wasn't she being forced to adjust to enough as it is? Did there have to be somebody like him to make it even harder? She didn't know.

Correy watched as she moved forward up the aisle and slid into the farthest along seat. Still leaving a seat between her and where Correy would return to sit. He felt sick inside with the look of disapointment on her face still at the front of his mind. he decided it would probably be best to not say anything, atleast for a couple of days. He returned to his seat and didnt even attempt contact, he didnt think she'd be in the mood for it anyway.

"Tally-Ho"

Ensign Lee Rowe
Counselor

"....try to work on those things for our next meeting," Lee spoke softly. "And try to remember that Ensign Jackson is not the only male in Starfleet."

The young crewperson nodded and got to his feet. "Thanks Lee."

"Next tuesday, ok?" Lee replied, nodding as the young crewman left.

As the crewman left, the department receptionist burst into the room.

"Ensign, we have a yellow alert," she uttered as she steadied herself.

"In counseling? or all over?" Lee asked, slightly surprised, the last he knew they were on a routine mission, but that meant nothing in Starfleet.

"Yes sir," she replied. "A ship has hit Trill, crashed sir, it's a mess."

Lee bowed his head and muttered several expletives before grabbing his tunic and walking past the receptionist into the reception area of the department.

"Where's Commander Dallas?" he asked her as she followed him.

"In briefing, and the Marine Psychologist is on her way here, what do you want me to do sir?" she asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

"Get Cadet Quaid and PO T'Reev to assist you," Lee began. "I want a full manifest and personnel, family and psychological files of ALL our Trill crewmembers. Establish links with the homeworld, we'll need lists of who was where and when, get onto Intel and find out where the ship has struck...."

He looked around, trying to think, trying to concentrate on what needed to be done.

"That'll do for now, I'm sure Commander Dallas will have some more work," he continued. "Have the list of Trill put together as soon as possible and begin scheduling them all emergency appointments in here, cancel any other appointments that aren't top priorities, and begin arranging depression, stress and post-trauma counseling for all personnel scheduled for one weeks time... I think."

The last words were muttered out, he wasn't 100% sure on what he was doing. After all he was only a junior officer, but an officer none-the-less and in the absense of anyone more senior he had to take some action.

The receptionist looked totally confused by the huge amount of workload, but simply nodded and replied, 'yes sir' and slid into the seat at her desk, allowing Lee to return to his office and await Commander Dallas' orders.

"A Happy Little Birdie"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Branwen, Marine Counselor

LOCATION: Quarters of Nara & Bran

Nara paced the common area of her and Bran's quarters trying to think of words to say to Saul. Maybe once she came up with words, she could form coherent sentences. Just as she had come up with a few articles, namely "a" and "the", a perky Bran walked in. "A" and "the" flew out the window.

Branwen was still over the moon when she got home. She greeted Nara with a little hug, and then singing flopped down on her own bed.

Nara stood at Bran's door expressionless. She was actually tired at this point. Drained was a better word. "Your date went well?"

"It was wonderful, Nara. He had picked his romantic sport. And we sat and kissed, and he told me all about himself. I asked him about you, and he also said you guys were just friends. He is my boyfriend now." Bran said with a happy smile.

Nara felt the blood drain from her face and any thought of talking to Saul left her mind. She wanted to be happy for Bran. She really did, but she couldn't find the energy to smile even a little. She numbly said, "That's nice."

She went back into the common area gathering and sat on the couch picking up a PADD on the table scrolling through the text, but not reading.

Branwen caught on a little later. "You don't sound happy. He wasn't lying was he?"

Nara tried to gather her thoughts enough to understand the question. "About what?" She kept her eyes on the PADD screen.

"Him and you. If you guys are just friends, then why are you so sad?"

Nara sighed still not moving her gaze, "He wasn't lying. We are just friends." It was too late for Nara to even try to tell Saul or anyone how she felt. It was irrelevant now.

"You want more don't you? Why didn't you tell me before, Nara. I told you and would not have done anything if you were interested."

"I'm not sure I am. I..." Nara's face crunched, "I'm not sure if it's love, lust, infatuation or what. I didn't want you to back down if it was anything less than love. It doesn't matter though. He likes you." Nara still hadn't looked up.

Bran went and sat down next to her and dropped an arm around Nara's shoulders. "I am sorry, Nara."

Nara tensed but didn't push her away. "Nothing to be sorry for. This is how it is. Don't worry about me."

"Maybe we should talk to him together to clear up some things? I love him, but I don't want the feeling I am stealing him from you."

Nara stood and went to the console in the corner of the room as she said, "Then don't. You can't steal someone who doesn't belong to anyone. Not to be brute, but he's free game."

"I wish you would have told me. I would never have moved on him if you had told me you are in love with him." Feeling happy, Bran suddenly went to feeling miserable.

Nara sighed and saw a message on the computer: [Message for Ensign Naranda Roswell from Gary Roswell] She closed the screen, ~I don't know what you have to say dad, but can it wait?~ She turned to Bran, "Listen. Don't worry about me, ok? How I feel is irrelevant now. Doesn't matter. I'm a big girl. I'll get over it." She stood looking at the door, "Besides, I never said I was in love with him."

Ït is in your body language. Shouldn't you answer that message? It could be important."

"The message can wait." She looked at Bran apologetically, "I'm sorry Bran. In time, I'll be happy for you. Just give me time." She picked up her PADD and sat again thinking of what to do and tried to will herself out of this gunk she felt.

Good thing she didn't check the message; for it held more bad news. Add to that the current situation on Trill that neither she nor the now in-love Bran knew about just yet. Or even the current situation of Bran's boyfriend and the man Nara felt she had to somehow get over.

"Okay."Bran said but she would be talking to Saul. "Can we still be friends? I really don't want this to come between us."

Nara forced a smile and nodded, "Of course." She sighed and went into her room. She wanted to get into something comfortable. She frowned seeing the skirt and sweater she considered her favorite outfit. It was the one she wore on what she considered a glorious relaxing day with Saul on Sakaria.

Instead, she pulled out a long skirt made of three very thin layers. Each layer was transparent, one pink, one blue, and one red, which, when layered made a beautiful purple shade that was opaque. With it, she chose a white tank shirt and emerged quickly so Bran wouldn't think she went in just to avoid her friend.

She picked up the PADD and hugged Bran. "Everything will be fine. I'm going to 10-4ward." Nara hoped Bran understood that it was just routine. She went to 10-4ward around this time almost every day.

"Of Heroes and Strength"

Ensign 8-ball Hunter

8-ball had never really liked the Trill.

They had always made her vaguely uncomfortable, like how some people couldn't stand being around telepaths. It made the skin under their nails just itch, knowing that somebody could be reading their thoughts about anything. This had never really bothered 8-ball because she usually just said whatever she was thinking anyway, before any telepath would go to the trouble of reading what went on between her ears. But Trills. . .Trills had always vaguely bothered 8-ball. They always managed to get just slightly under her skin.

It had to do with the symbionts, of course. The idea of them had always slightly disturbed 8-ball; having your memories and your personality and your life all wrapped up with six other people's. It bothered her sense of individuality. 8-ball knew she was a very, VERY flawed person when it came to a lot of respects, but dammit, those were HER flaws. She had her own traits and quirks and curiousities, and nobody could say that they were anybody else's. More than anything, 8-ball did not like the idea of losing her sense of self, not that most people did. If that was generally considered a fun thing to do, the Borg would be a whole lot more popular than they were, and maybe they would even get invited to Federation block parties, or assimilation shindigs.

8-ball knew very rationally that the Trills who did carry symbionts were not contagious. Hanging around them was not going to cause a leap of dots from one person's face to hers. She made it a point never to be rude to any Trill she met because she refused to be another prejudiced bigot in a universe that was way too full of them. But every now and then it just bothered her, and 8-ball sometimes wished she didn't have to be around the Trills too often, just for own sense of well being.

That didn't mean, of course, that she wanted them to get blown up or anything.

That morning, when she had woken up, 8-ball didn't have anything spectacular planned. She wasn't due in Sciences for awhile and she had been sort of vaguely considering going to the holodeck and eating breakfast at a very old fashioned style of ice cream parlor. She had just zipped up her uniform and was about to throw on some shoes when the door chimed.

Surprised, 8-ball had said, "Come in."

An ensign walked hurriedly into her room. Not just any ensign, either. It was that annoying one, the guy who always seemed to walk in on her when she wasn't wearing any clothes. She gave him an irritated look.

"Go away," she said to him. "Can't you see I'm fully dressed right now?"

"So you haven't heard," the guy said, seeming to ignore this. "Come on, you have to see what's happened." He ordered the computer to show the Federation News Broadcast.

"The news? Shit, man, I don't watch the news. It's always full of depressing stuff."

"You're not wrong," the ensign said dryly and 8-ball watched the destruction on the Trill homeworld.

"Jesus," she said softly to herself. They stared at the monitor in silence for awhile until 8-ball finally turned it off and went to go sit on her bed. The ensign looked at her as if this was one of the defining moments in his stupid, little life.

"I'm letting people know what's going on," he said importantly. "The captain hasn't made an announcment yet but he will. In the meantime, people have to know. People need to see."

8-ball looked at the ensign. "Why?"

"What---what---what do you mean, why? It's important!"

"Obviously. But aren't there things that people shouldn't have to see?" Her voice sounded a little empty, even to her own, pointed ears. "Shouldn't people be able to get up in the morning and not have to see things like that?"

The ensign came over and sat down next to her. He had the careful expression of a man who knew a woman was about to break out in sobs, and couldn't quite decide if he wanted to run or stay around for the comfort, which might lead to something a little more fun. "You're in shock," he said, and put an arm around her shouders. "It's okay. You can come with me, if you want. Spread the knowledge of this devestation to other people. It might help, knowing you're doing something."

8-ball stood up quickly as this stranger touched her. She glared down at him, furious for some reason.

"I'm shocked," 8-ball said to him, her eyes narrowed. "I'm a little horrified, even, because seeing little dead Trill children on the news wasn't on my agenda this morning. But I'm not IN shock. It's not that surprising. A lot of bad, awful shit happens all the time. And all I'm saying is that my seeing that little broadcast this morning didn't change anything for those people. I'M probably going to feel bad all day thinking about all those people that are dead and feeling a little guilty for not knowing any of them and not really wanting to be around them. I'M going to feel guilty because I'll be thinking about those dead people and thanking God that it was those people and not the people I love that are dead. But all those things that I'M feeling, well, none of that has any affect on the people down there. None of those feelings changes anything for that mother you just saw trying to get her dead son to wake up. So you know what, you can go spread your important message to everybody so they can see, but I'm not going to any damn thing because it's a meaningless gesture, thinking that that news broadcast in any way encompassed what happened to those people. It doesn't, and no one who watches it is going to leave with the real understand of what's happened. No one will see. No one ever really sees, until it happens to them."

The ensign worked his mouth a little, tried to say something, and just shook his head. He crossed to leave the room when 8-ball called out, "Hey, guy!"

The guy stopped. "What?"

8-ball bit her lip. She didn't have any right to tell this guy what he was doing wasn't important. She just didn't have any interest in joining him. "Look," she said, "just. . .just do what you feel needs to get done, okay? Don't listen to me. Just do whatever you think is important, and it will be."

The guy watched her for a minute, and then nodded. "You know," he said, "it's usually more fun when I barge in on you half-naked."

"I'll try not to disappoint next time," she said, and the guy half-smiled before leaving. 8-ball stood there for a minute and then plopped on her bed, her forehead in her hands. She was selfish and she knew it. She did not want to be stuck all day with the image of those dead people in her head. She had enough normal, stupid problems as it was. She didn't need this extra complication.

The captain made his announcement over the comm system. 8-ball listened to his short speech on miracles and heroes and inner strength.

"Personal log," 8-ball said outloud. "Stardate whatever today is. In short, a big ship just crashed into a big city on Trill, and a lot of people are dead and hurt and grieving. The captain just made his announcement. He talked about believing in ourselves, in our own strength. He talked about us being heroes for the Trill people. I can't help but feel like I'd be a pretty lousy hero and I'm wondering what actually makes a good hero. Is it nobility? Honor? A need for universal, complete peace? If it's any of those things, the Captain's wrong. This ship may be full of those heroes but I'll never be one of them. I'm just thanking God no one I knew was there. If that makes me a bad person, than that's okay too. I don't believe much in heroes anyway, or inner strength. I think most people just do what they have to do."

"I bet that guy, that ensign, thinks of himself as a hero. I think he's just doing something so he'll feel better. That doesn't seem like heroism to me. Just survival. But maybe, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he is a hero. Maybe miracles do exist."

"If they do, then they better be coming quickly, because if heroism is about nobility and never being afaid, then it's going to take one hell of a miracle to turn me into a hero. End personal log."

"Confessions of a Joined Trill"

(Takes place immediately after “All Hands”)

Principal Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lieutenant Corran Rex

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain’s Ready Room

Corran Rex ran a hand through his unwashed hair, wishing for the sixth time since he'd come from his quarters that he'd showered first. Nothing to be done about it, the Trill thought as he pressed the chime. Cass had said that the Captain had only gone back into his ready room a moment before - likely to speak to Starfleet Command.

That was fine. The fighter pilot was prepared to wait as long as he needed to.

Daren glanced up at the chime and keyed an acknowledgement so he wouldn’t hear it again. Whoever it was, they’d need to wait until he was done with his address to the ship and call to Starfleet Command. When the doors slid open fifteen minutes later, Daren looked tired and worn as Corran entered. The wall screen was still fading, the Starfleet Command logo on it going dark as the Captain nodded. “Lieutenant.”

"Captain," Corran replied, having been pacing while he waited. "Sir - do we know what happened? Why the Akula crashed?"

“No, Lieutenant, we don’t. At the moment, Starfleet Command is getting it’s information from the news feeds just like everyone else.” Daren frowned. “They’re not even positive that it really was the Akula that crashed.

"I thought the Akula wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near Trill." the pilot insisted. "The last think I remember seeing on them, they were out near the Black Cluster. And a Prometheus-Class starship seems like the kind of thing you'd want to keep track of."

“One would think, yes,” Daren agreed. “But it’s a bit early for accusations and finger pointing, lieutenant. There will be plenty of time for that after everything is said and done, you can be sure of that.”

"I'm not trying to point fingers - there'll be plenty of people more than willing to do that back home. Sorry, sir. I'm a little - edgy. Leran Manev - that's where the Symbiosis commission is. Corran didn't grow up there, but I've spent several of my lives there. To see it burning..."

“No one likes – or wants - to see their home in flames,” Daren assured him softly. “It makes us feel helpless, violated – like the universe has suddenly become a darker, more unfeeling place and we’re at its mercy.” He stood up and stepped around the desk. “Just remember that you’re not helpless, Lieutenant. None of us are. Everything is different now, everything’s changed – but you’re not helpless, you’re not alone at the mercy of anyone or anything. Like I told the crew a few minutes ago, you have the power to change the universe, even if it is only one life at a time.”

"No doubt." Corran replied, taking the uplifting words to heart. "Sir, what do you want the Vanguards to do when we get there?"

“To start with, traffic control and security, Lieutenant. Not glamorous, but necessary. We don’t know how or why the Akula – if that’s who really crashed – went down. It could have been an accident, but if it was a Starfleet vessel…” Daren frowned and shook his head. “My wife doesn’t design ships that crash, Lieutenant. Not unless someone crashes them on purpose. I want all my bases covered, just in case.

"Of course." the pilot said smoothly. "We can certainly do that."

The Trill paced for a moment, wrestling with something he knew he wasn't supposed to admit, but deciding that if he could be honest with anyone, it was going to be the Captain. And going into a situation like this, Captain M'Kantu probably needed to know anything and everything possible. "Sir, what do you know about our people?"

“The usual material, plus what I’ve seen in recent briefings. Why?”

"Then you should now, our history means a great deal to us. But we like our secrets - particularly regarding the symbiotes - even more." the pilot replied, for once, looking every year of his five centuries. "It's something I've argued against often - when I was a member of the senate, I pushed heavily for us to reveal our joined nature in our initial contacts with your people, but I was overruled."

“Based on past encounters with parasitic lifeforms, that might have made things difficult at the initial contact stage,” Daren nodded. “But I like to think that we’ve grown beyond knee-jerk paranoia like than now.”

"You might know that there's a way now to safely separate a Trill from their host. This method is tightly controlled by the symbiosis commission, though I'd recommend that the medical staff contact Dr. Bashir on Deep Space Nine - with the casualties they'll be seeing in the city, that will come in handy."

“Consider it done, Lieutenant.”

"What you don't know, though," he finally said, surprised at himself even for admitting this. "Is that the estimated one percent of Trill population that the Commission says is suitable for joining, is a lie. Nearly half the population of Trill is capable of it, physically. Mentally, probably around forty percent."

Daren stared at him for a moment. “And this was… suppressed? Deliberately?”

"Yes." Corran replied, easily sensing the man's disappointment. "And despite my opposition to such policies, even I can understand this one. “Why so?” Daren asked carefully.

"You have to understand, sir. Our society is built around the concept that only a few can obtain the symbiotes. Until now, this was protected by the fact that symbiont and host could not be separated. But now that the case is otherwise - there is nothing my people fear more than the idea of a black market trade in symbiotes. We're trying to fix the way we've treated the unjoined - Lirisse - the President - gave up her own symbiont five years ago so she could give them a greater voice in the government. But this is something that could potentially destroy our civilization. We have no choice but to hide that fact."

Daren didn’t like it, but the decision hadn’t been his to make. “Whether I understand or agree with it or not, Lieutenant, the fact remains that the decision was made.” He frowned at the junior officer. “Let me ask you this – would the government be willing to see the symbiotes die out rather than admit this? Because if no other way presents itself, then those symbiotes surviving in the pools will need to be evacuated to hosts until such a time as their pools can be certified as safe.”

“My people will do whatever they have to in order to safeguard the symbionts."

Daren’s frown eased somewhat. “Good to hear, Lieutenant… because no one is going to commit genocide on my watch, no matter what the consequences.” He nodded. “If there’s nothing else?”

"Sir, one other thing." Corran started, aborting his exit from the room."

“Yes?”

"Lirisse - I mean, President Durghan - I know her personally. If you need someone to serve as a go-between between you and her, I'd be happy to volunteer." he admitted.

“How well do you know her?” Contacts like that were always good to have in reserve, Daren reflected.

"She's an old...friend from our days in the Initiate Program." he replied. "I know her pretty well."

“That’s good to know, Lieutenant – it might make the difference in things getting done swiftly.” Daren paused. “Do you have family on Trill, Lieutenant?”

"No" he replied with a shake of his head. "My parents are safely on Vern Colony, a few systems over."

“There’s that, at least,” Daren said quietly. “Thank you, Lieutenant – for the information and the offer. I’ll be in touch with you again once we get closer to Trill.”

"Of course sir." Corran replied, and left the Ready Room. Breakfast was in order.

As Corran left, he could hear M’Kantu’s voice already reaching out through the comm. again. “M’Kantu to Feinberg; report to my office immediately, Doctor.” And, as the doors closed, “M’Kantu to Alvarez; I need you in my office as soon as possible, Attaché.”

"Phoenix, Part I"

SFMC 1Lt. T'Shani Akledorian
Currently Unassigned

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

I see the sun begin to rise,
and I'm wounded

I've seen the world from painted eyes,
that I'm crying through

I watch the darkness hit the tides,
and confide in...

== Stardate 50502.24, 2250 Hours: The Presidio, San Fransisco, Earth ==

She closed her eyes. Then, not wishing to discover what was there beneath them, she opened them again quickly.

So much had happened since her departure from the Valkyrie. She had felt bad about leaving Cass, just when he could have used the help, but then again, she hadn't had much choice in the matter. Just like she hadn't much choice in the current events that had brought her to this park bench, on a cold, foggy night on the Presidio.

"You came alone."

She started, ever so slightly, only because she had felt him before he had spoken. Once she recognized his voice, however, she calmed down. Slowly, she turned to him, her antennas swiveling to examine her late-night visitor.

"As instructed," she confirmed. She almost wanted to ask why the rediculous Secret Agent Man had insisted on this place, instead of a secure office. But then again, spooks were spooks... they had to be in control.

"Good. You have been informed, then?"

This was really grating on the woman's nerves. Any of her cohorts could vouch for her short temper, especially for silly things, such as this. Leaning forward, the light of a nearby lamppost caught the side of her face, playing on the deep blue skin and blazing, impatient eyes. "Look, Agent..." she paused, not knowing what his operative name was.

"Daniels, will do."

"Daniels," she continued, "How did you find out about this? It was supposed to be J1-C Level A-1 classified. And I sure as hell know that Houghton didn't send you; he'd have done it himself, or send the Colonel."

She paused, collecting her thoughts and suspicions, as Mr. 'Daniels' sat quietly. Suddenly, her eyes widened, "You're not..." she paused again, working out the scramble of thoughts in her mind as her antennas twitched back and forth. "You're not SFI, are you, then?"

"No."

"DTI?"

"Not...exactly."

"Then, wha--"

"I'm not DTI--at least, not as you know it."

"Then who--"

He held up his hand, again cutting her off. "But I can tell you that I am Federation, and am not Section 31. My department has a vested interest in you, Miss Akledorian."

Tish's antennas flexed down low in front of her forhead in suspicion. She crossed her arms. "Then, who are you with, Agent Daniels?"

Calmly, he smiled. Tish couldn't help but feel slightly hypnotized by his face. All of the sudden, she felt completely at ease, despite her previous concerns. It was a strange sensation, to say the least.

For a moment, she studied his face: nothing spectacular--a round face, clean skin, receding hairline--but the eyes... the eyes seemed to captivate them. They didn't seem completely human, though. They were dark, like a Betaz...

"Now then," he continued, once she had calmed down. The agent realized that working with this woman would prove to be... interesting, to say the least. But she was his assignment.

"You agree to the procedure?"

She hesistated, ever so slightly. Could she really give it all up? "And Tanner?"

"He's signed-off on it. You'll be... reassigned."

Leaning back into the darkness again, she sighed, collected her thoughts, and bobbed her antennae in agreement. "Yes, I agree."

"Good," was the last thing T'Shani Akledorian, formerly of the Starfleet Marine Corps' infamous Third Division, heard as the hypospray hissed at her neck.

Standing up, Daniels eased her body to the ground, then looked up to the sky.

"Computer, end program."

The Presidio flashed away, replaced by an empty white room.

"Sibling Legacy"

Lieutenant Corran Rex

Pilot Anna Lewis (Francis' new Vanguard PCC)

Fresh from Ten-Forward, Corran made his way to his office. Technically, he was supposed to be on duty as of Alpha Shift, but given that his personnel were on call at all times, he was fairly lenient whenever there wasn't a training session - and that applied to his own hours as well. And when they got to Trill, they'd be plenty busy. Best to let the pilots rest up now, while they could.

Nonetheless, he was surprised when he saw a pretty young thing in engineering gold standing outside of his doors. Moving into his office, he waved her in behind him. "Come on in, Ensign.. ?"

"Thank you, sir," the young woman replied softly. She was nervous, even though she'd had time to sleep since she'd disembarked from the shuttle. She followed the fighter pilot, examining every detail of him. He was exactly how he'd been described to her.

Settling into his chair (and dutifully placing hands behind his head and feet on the desk) he looked up at her. "So what can I do for you, Ensign?"

"Ah, I just arrived from the USS Charlemagne," she replied, glancing nervously around for a seat. After she found one, she sat down and focused on Corran again. "You don't know me, but you did know my sister... She served with you here. I, ah, want to fly for you."

"Your sister.." he started, and gave the young woman a long hard look. "You're Diamondback's sister. I thought you were transferring here as an Engineer?"

"Yes, I'm Heather's sister... Anna," she nodded, "I was an engineer on the Charlemagne, but when Starfleet told us what happened to Heather, I... Well, I took a leave of absence. I went home for a couple of months, and thought about dropping out of the fleet. I went over it, again and again." She blinked back tears, "I remembered what Heather said to me when we joined Starfleet. She was a year younger. She told me that we were doing it for a good reason. So that the people of the Federation would be safe and would know what's out here... in space. She was more idealistic than me, but I guess I understand what she meant now." "So when I came back to duty, I asked to take the officer equivalency flight tests from the SFFC. I don't have... well, really any stick time... but I'm qualified to fly fighters now. They tell me I'm a natural."

Rex felt a catch in his throat. This wasn't an uncommon thing, siblings of dead pilots wanting to take their older sibling's place. Sometimes it worked out. Sometimes it didn't. The Lieutenant was certainly cognizant of the fact that the losses they'd taken at Havras had hit the squadron hard. Perhaps having Anna around would help to alleviate that.

"Do they, now? Who was your exam supervisor?" he asked. He could tell a lot about her talents, just by finding out who her qualifier had been.

"Captain deMercereau, out on the USS Greencastle," she replied, "I flew with Starhawk Squadron for a few weeks. He trained Heather, too."

Corran nodded at that. It certainly gave him enough information. "If he says you're good enough, then you're good enough. You could be a pilot anywhere in the fleet. Why the Vanguards?"

"Well, I do want to take Heather's place. To do what she was trying to do," Anna said. Hopefully Lieutenant Rex was convinced. "She used to write to me about the Vanguards, and from what she said, I'm convinced that there's no better place. She was very happy here."

Corran rubbed his chin a moment, mulling it over. "Allright. We'll take you on an evaluation period for now. You'll be flying as Vanguard Seven."

Anna looked up in recognition. That had been her sister's number. A moment of silent understanding passed between them. "Thank you, sir. I'll go requisition some new uniforms. And I swear I won't let you down."

"Well," he smiled. "Let it never be said that I let a pretty girl down. Just don't let yourself down, and we'll do fine."

The second in a string of quiet Arizona moisture farmers daughters nodded quietly. "I really appreciate the chance. By the way. When I was flying with the Starhawks, my callsign was 'Natural'. I can keep that, right?"

"Unclaimed so far as I know." he said easily. "Pilot briefing at fourteen hundred. Be there - and replicate the right uniform. Flightsuit's uniform of the day unless you're told otherwise."

"I can do that. Is there anything else that I need to know?"

"Just one thing." he said, standing and moving close to the small blonde. "Don't do this because you feel you owe it to your sister. Do it because you feel that call inside you. Otherwise, you're going o cost your own life, and maybe your wingmate's, and maybe a whole helluva lot of other people's. And that's a damn hard thing to forgive."

"I'll think on that, sir. I do feel like I owe it to my sister. But not because she died," Anna replied, "While I was on leave, I gave her word some serious thought, and I realized that she was right. If we don't do this, then nobody will, and everything that's good about the Federation will cease."

"Welcome to the Vanguards, Pilot." he replied, clapping a unit patch into her hand.

"Thank you," she clasped his hand and took the patch. "Like I said, I really appreciate the chance."

"Well. Let's see how it works out."

"When Orbits Stand Still"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

The evening she'd returned from the freighter had been her first and last semi-good night sleep in awhile. While Cora was used to late night calls from Starfleet Intelligence, this had been different. None of them had seen it coming, not even Intel who prided themselves at being several steps ahead of the game.

Lt Dobryin had already been in Galaxy's Intelligence Center, combing through some potentially suspicious data. Reality was nearly impossible to accept because they should have figured it out sooner or prevented it from happening all together.

Deep seeded anger course through her, leaving a distinct knot in Cora's stomach in its wake. Powerless to do anything more than search through data after the fact for tell tale clues.

With a hot, strong mug of raktajino in hand she woke her staff with four words that would change things forever... turn on the news. Slowly Cora took a sip as she continued to watch various new feeds, scan incoming data packets from various sources and plan an the inevitable briefing for her personnel that would take place in less than 10 minutes.

For once Cora was grateful for the solitude of her office. Through the door she could hear frenzied activity in the main operations area just outside. Soon enough she'd have to face her Intelligence staff, to tuck away her personal feelings of grief and anger and focus her efforts on finding whoever was responsible for this disaster.

Trill had become ground zero for something far worse than she ever imagined. Its impact hit like a ton of bricks and refused to let up. Cora finished up the first drink and immediately ordered another raktajino.

Another stream of incoming data caught her attention. While Cora knew they had a job to do, she dreaded the upcoming Intel Briefing, because no words could accurately describe her full reaction to the current situation. Nothing seemed appropriate to calm those fears she knew her personnel were dealing with, because she too shared those very same fears.

Before Cora left the sanctuary of her office, she allowed herself just a few more seconds to get it together. In light of the current situation she considered it time well spent. Intelligence had the difficult task of sifting through reams of information while this incident was still seared in their memories like a raging fire.

"Only Dust"

Lieutenant' Ammanalyn Llywhyn
Lieutenant Corran Rex

With Tampatiaen at her side, the small counselor moved through the corridors of the ship toward the fighter bay and, consequently, the office of Vanguard Squadron's commanding officer.

Ammanalyn had spent the past several days "out of the loop," so to speak. The events, whatever they were, she couldn't quite understand what many of her patients were trying to tell her. She'd woken up on the floor of her quarters after a terrible dream, Tampatiaen curled beside her in a similar situation. Whatever had happened, their specific kind of consciousness must not have been compatible.

Which suited her fine, frankly, Ammanalyn was dealing with enough as it was. She didn't need to be switching memories or be driven crazy or what have you.

Whatever it was, exactly, that happened.

But what had happened, happened, and there was nothing she could do about it but listen and help people move on, which is what she planned to do, at least, until the most recent events. As the trauma specialist, she was being dispatched, and would help to coordinate efforts on Trill.

But also on the ship. Frankly that was her first priority. She made a list of the Trill officers, ordered them by rank, and was beginning her rounds, starting with the one she believed would be needed in a proper frame of mind first.

The one whose trigger finger might be unreasonably twitchy.

Corran Rex. Who certainly had his share of traumatic and psychological issues...

"Corran?" she said, tapping her knuckles on the frame of his office door. "May we speak?"

Lieutenant Corran Rex, was, at that moment, listening to a loudly-playing selection of Andorian blues. While the Trill and human versions of the musical form were also quite good - things he'd always been a fan of, even before his joining - the Andorian's just got it like nobody else.

"Computer, mute." he said, seeing the Counselor at the door. "Sorry, Amma. What'd you say?"

"Amma?" Am questioned, raising a small eyebrow. "Can we speak, a moment?"

"Well," he replied. "Your name's rediculously hard to pronounce. Hence, "Amma." And sure. Plop on down." She noticed, however, that he did not remove his boots from the desk.

She brushed Tampatiaen's head with her fingers as she entered the office and slid into the chair across from his desk. She studied the Trill, carefully. "Am-man-a-lyn," she said, "it's not so difficult. Amma, with your accent, just translates into something naughty in Daedae." She smiled slightly. "How *are* you doing, Rex?"

"Something naughty, eh?" he said, eyebrow raising. Well, that piqued some interest - and provided a handy way to avoid her question. "And what's the standard translation?"

"I prefer not to say," she said, feeling the blush creep over her cheeks. "And don't try to evade my question. It never works."

He flashed her a quick, rougish grin, conceding the point - and acknowledging her blush. The quiet girls were always some of the most fun. "Avoid what question?" he couldn't help asking.

"How are you."

"Oh, i'm just...what's the human word - dandy, really. A Federation starship crashed into my home city, thousands of my people are dead or dying. It's a fantastic day, really."

Ammanalyn's face drew into a deep expression of sympathy. "Have you heard anything more about what the results have been?" she questioned. "Did you have family in the city?"

"Not.. current family." he replied. "It's... complicated."

"It always is," Ammanalyn said. "I find it interesting, that the Trill society governs itself by such strict rules, on the surface, but underneath, very few really are able to adhere to them. It's admirable, really, I wish my own people would be less stringent."

"Vorrin's daughter lives in Leran Manev.'" he admitted quietly.

She nodded. "I'm sure she's okay," Ammanalyn said, glancing at Tampatiaen, then back to Rex. She had a very strange feeling, tugging at the back of her mind, raising goosebumps on her arms, under the long sleeves of her uniform jacket. "It all works out, in the end."

"What an utterly stupid thing to say." he snapped back, practically snarling. "I'm sure she's okay? It all works out? Any other little simpering platitudes you want to toss out? It's my daughter , for the Creator's sake. Don't sit there and tell me it'll be alright."

She paused. "She is not your daughter. She is Vorrin's daughter and you are no longer Vorrin," Ammanalyn stated, "and believe it as you believe it, but she is okay. And my platitudes are truth."

"Sorry." he replied silently, his face somewhat ashen as he withdrew a hypospray from his desk. "My bond slips a little still. I haven't quite got the formula fully perfected. That was Vorrin, there. He's a little..well, you get the idea."

She nodded, rested her hand on Tampatiaen's head again as he looked at her with wide, white-blue eyes. "I understand. Mine slips a little sometimes, too."

"Eh?" he asked, pressing the hypospray to his arm. A barely audible hiss sounded, and he closed his eyes for a moment as the chemicals coursed into his bloodstream, stabilizing the links that bonded Corran and Rex.

"Eh?"

"What do you mean, your bond slips?" he asked, eager to move the conversation away from what was happening on Trill. "I thought that Tampa.. Tampae - he - was just a reflection of you."

"Tam-pat-i-een," she said. "That is a simplistic point of view my people tell outsides, and themselves, for the most part..." She paused a minute and sighed. "But I... we... are not like most of our people. Our bond is not so concrete. And we have an unusual relationship to the Dust."

"Riiiight....."

She tilted her head, studying him. "I don't know how to explain it further. If I could, I might be able to fix it. But... the Dust speaks to me in a way it does to no others of my people. Time doesn't exist in the right order for me, sometimes, and I know things I shouldn't. About people. About situations. Private things. Things that have not yet happened. Secret things. Truth." She shrugged.

"And folks think my people are weird." the Trill muttered to himself. "You sure you're not the one needing to talk to a shrink, Amma?"

She blushed furiously at the shortened version of her name. "It is not the type of problem that would require a psychologist," she stated, "but rather meditation and a hope for understanding. Your people are not 'weird,' but rather, not human, and humans think anything that is unlike them in peculiar."

"Actually, most races think having a centuries old slug inside you with memories of other people's lives is pretty weird."

"At least you always know where you stand," she said smiling slightly. "I would think it would be... amazing. You're fortune, to have such an awareness of history."

That brought a derisive snort out, and Corran shook his head. "Doesn't count when you're as fond of secrets as we are. It's not really history if you don't have the whole picture. Till then - it's just a story. A fairy tale."

"That's life no matter where you are," Ammanalyn said. "Supposedly, I am..." She paused, forehead knit, thinking. "In human terms, I am the anti-Christ for my people. They are terrified of me. All because of secrets and corruption. Fairy tales. Because there is a lack of understanding and no one will to tell truths. But that is life. The point is to parade on anyway."

He tossed up a mock salute. "Soldier on, brave souls." Corran replied in a somewhat mocking tone. "I know the drill, Amma. I'll do my job, and so will my people."

"I've no doubt. But Corran. Keep yourself together, come to me if you need to. I don't want to have to come here on less friendly terms and take away your wings."

"Won't happen."

"Good." She stood. "She's okay, Rex, just a little frightened."

His eyes narrowed as Corran realized that this odd woman standing in front of him wasn't just mouthing platitudes. "You... know? How?"

"It's only Dust." She smiled softly. "You know where to find me, if you need me."

"Yeah.." the pilot trailed as the Counselor departed.

Tampatiaen stood to move out, pausing a moment, his leopard shaped head turning to stare at the pilot, before blinking, and turning to trop after Ammanalyn, tail swishing behind him.

He didn't like how much she'd said to the Trill.

But really, there was little he could do about it,.

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London
2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile Marine
Recon Specialist

New day. New assignment. Same assholes in charge. Only the persons changed, but the assholes remained. Baile didn't like being onboard ships. It wasn't because he didn't trust them or was afraid of them - if they broke down there wasn't much he could do any way. People got soft working there. Plain and simple. Sure, the crews knew how to handle emergencies and the occasional battle. But take away the replicators, the holodecks, the gyms, tenforward, eight hour shifts, comfortable beds and they'd soon start to break. Being comfortable wasn't the life of a Marine. Not in his experience. Marines couldn't afford to be comfortable. Couldn't afford to take the easy way when there was a tougher road running next to it.

Branwen was walking down the corridor. Things were definitely looking up. New boyfriend, more Marines joining, so more work. Even a navy patient. For the first time she was confident this job was actually going to work.

The massive green bag slung over his shoulder contained his military belongings - uniforms, boots, scanners, repairkits - everything a Marine could use in the field short of a tank or an artillerygun. Despite him wearing the non-descript offduty Marine uniform there was something about him. Something in his eyes as they scanned the corridor in front of him. Something dangerous.

She noticed him, noticed his uniform. A new Marine, still in her in love haze she didn't noticed much else about him. And with a smile walked up to him to greet the newcomer.

"Hello, welcome aboard the Galaxy. I am second lieutenant Branwen London. Can I help you with anything getting settled?"

The newcomer stopped and put down the massive bag, quickly measuring up the woman from head to toe. Not the stereotypical marine, but who was? "Maybe. I'm looking for.." he shoved a hand in a pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, ".. Lt Hayes.."

"Our boss. Sure, I can take you to her office. But how about we find your quarters first so you can offload."

He glanced at the massive bag, figuring it wouldn't hurt to get the backbreaker out of the way. Picking it up again he motioned for her to lead the way. Baile was the kind of person you could spot as a rather socially secluded person fairly quickly. It was the little things like being silent when the normal thing would be to start a conversation about the weather, the day before, the game last week. The normal things. Baile had never been much for smalltalk.

"You look like you have seen a lot of action, what rank do you hold, and what is your name?"

He glanced at her. Had he really been that young? Felt like a thousand years ago. "Second Lieutenant Jebidiah Baile.." he replied, "But everyone calls me Flea."

"Flea?" She laughed. "How come? You certainly don't look like a flea."

"Stupid nickname that got I got stuck with twelve years ago after a mission." It really was a dumb nickname, but he had gotten attached to it over the years, although he'd crack his head open before admitting it to anyone.

"So long ago. Did you come up through the ranks, being a second Lt?" She asked. It was hard to believe that they were the same rank.

"Is there any other way?" he replied, shifting the weight of the bag. Baile figured he might as well tell her since it was on his record, along with a dozen other reprimands. "I used to be captain a few years back."

"No shit." Branwen said. "What happened? Just tell me if I talk too much. I'm very curious by nature."

"Really?" he told her with a slight smirk on his face. "You can barely tell..."

"Yeah." She took his sarcasm in stride.

"I beat up some asshole Starfleet Lieutenant. Put him in hospital for a few days."

"Ouch. What did he do, I am sure you had a good reason?"

"The guy kept talking smack about the Marines.." Baile shrugged ever so slightly, not showing the slightest of regret, "so I told him I'd spank him with a two by four if he didn't shut up. And I did."

"I guess you really had no choice. They busted you back two ranks for that. It must really have pissed them off. Yet you say it is a few years ago and you are still a second Lieutenant."

"Didn't say that was the only time I've gotten into trouble with the brass, now did I?" he replied with some sarcasm.

"Hell, man. Don't let them get to you. The navy ain't worth your career." She said with feeling.

"I'm too good for Starfleet to drop me.. they just transfer me." Baile replied evenly. It was a simple statement rather than boasting.

"I see. Have they ever tried sending you to a shrink?" She asked. "Or were they afraid you would destroy a navy shrink's office?"

"Probably...." he replied, his tone indicating it was not a subject open for discussion."What about you? How long since you left Mars? Two? Three years?"

"About 3 months, this is my first assignment." She blushed at her inexperience.

"No combat experience except simulations and small fights then I take it?" he asked, getting a bad feeling about the new assignment. Now he was beginning to understand how the veterans had felt when he had joined them right after training.

"I have experience in taking pain. And from my 14th year I grew up on the grounds of Starfleet academy, my sister was an instructor there. So I havea lot of experience with hand-to-hand combat in training. I am here to learn the real thing. I hope you will not hold it against me. Yet that you will be one of my teachers instead." She looked at him.

"I'm not much of a teacher." he told her frankly. He sure wasn't in the mood to babysit someone until they understood just how little they really knew. How the older marines had refrained from shooting him was a mystery.

"I understand. I won't bother you if you don't like it. Besides when we get enough officers I will probably not see that much combat. Although I would like to learn."

To that he could only smile and sigh at the same time. "Eager to see the world, huh?"

"Yes definitely. I grew up in a xenofobic society. Now I want to see the world." She smiled.

"Then the Marines is the place to be. But it won't be the scenic route. I can tell you that much." the Marine told the young woman. "Some things will be rememberable. Others you will not want to remember.

"I know that" Bran said." I also know that Marines don't like to talk about stuff. It will be my job to try and change that and I know it will make me very unpopular."

Baile stopped and looked at the tiny young woman. "Marines don't talk about it for a reason, and maybe in a few years, when you've seen the things they don't tell you about in bootcamp, you will begin to understand just why Marines stick with Marines."

"But why not talk about it amongst ourselves?" She said.

He shook his head. "No, cause the day you understand what older marines have been through, you'll understand why I don't want to talk to anyone about it."

"I hope to prove that wrong. Otherwise my job will be a failure. But I only want to do it if people are willing to talk to me. I am not going to force anybody into counseling."

"Forcing a Marine.. now there's a hoot.." Baile commented in a fairly crude and obvious attempt to lessen some of the words he had said. She'd figure out what he meant in due time. Either that or die on the battlefield.

"Humpf." Bran said. "I will show you." She said with the confidence of youth.

Baile was about to deliver a cynical response as the Captain's hail delivered the news about the tragedy. He nodded to Bran. "You'd better report in. I'll find my way on my own."

That damn medic Riley had been right. Dead smack center in the thick of things. As he walked towards his quarters he saw the looks on peoples faces. Shock, horror, sadness. Normal reactions to a horrifying message. Why was it he felt nothing? Not a damn thing.

"Security Prep"

Lt JG Claire Barnes,
Security / Hazard Team

When the order came in from the bridge in regards to prepare for emergency search & rescue work on Trill, Claire had been working in the Main Security Annex after completing half a shift of patrol duty.

Springing into action, Claire noted the number of green ensigns and started giving orders as she took charge of the situation until Corgan got his butt down to the office.

After leaving orders for an ensign to arrange for all security to come on duty, she tapped her combadge, "Lt Jg Barnes to the Armoury."

[Armoury here.]

"Start breaking out search & rescue gear. A starship just crashed on Trill, and there are mass-casualties. We will need hazmat suits to in the mix, and I want you to break out the riot gear too. Once we get there, we will need to prepare to help the Trill police forces handle anyone trying to take advantage off the situation."

[Aye. Do you know what ship, Lt?]

"No, not yet. Could be Starfleet though, but not sure. Claire out."

"Take your pick"

Corran Rex
Ella Grey

***Arboretum***

Ella sat beside the small lake in the arboretum, her fingers idly brushing the tiny, and hopefully non poisonous, purple flowers growing in patches next to the water. She had the urge to pick some and then pluck the petals in a he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not/a-ship-just-crashed-on-Trill-today-and-isn't-that-sad? fashion but she thought that Jan might not approve.

She heaved a sigh and then hoped no one had heard the mechanization of her voice on it. She hadn't told anyone yet.

Corran ran a hand through his thick hair a moment. He'd purposefully come here, seeking to talk to the one person who didn't really want anything from him. The computer had dutifully reported Ella's presence in the arboretum, and he unceremoniously sat himself down next to her. "Hey, Ella." he said in a tired voice.

Ella looked over and waved hello. ~~How are you doing?~~

"Stressed, worried, paranoid, angry, afraid." he replied - "And considering the conversation I just had with Lywhyn, a little weirded out. Take your pick."

She tilted her head as a question.

"Apparently she's what humans call the anti-Christ." the Trill replied with a shrug. "I don't know. Long story. Like I said, weird."

Ella smiled, mostly because she was trying to get out of the habit of laughing again. She didn't like the way it sounded now. ~~Then I would stay clear of her or at least have some holy water handy.~~

Watching her fingers form the intricacies of sign language, Corran was glad she'd taught it to him during their exile on the desert planet. Of course, with Curtis insane and Cutter sulking most of the time, she hadn't had a lot of choice if she wanted someone to talk to.

~~I feel very detached from it all.~~ Ella said. ~~I know I should be feeling something... more appropriate... sadder... but I just feel...~~

"Like it didn't really happen?" he asked, looking up from her hands to meet her face once more.

~~I guess.~~ Ella signed with a shrug. ~~Do you even want to talk about this? It must get tiring having everyone ask you how you're holding up.~~

"Oh, I don't know." the Trill replied. "I don't mind answering the questions of a pretty lady."

Ella's eyebrow raised and then she grinned. ~~That's a clever way out of a serious conversation.~~

"Anybody ever tell you you've got nice hands?" he laughed, continuing the the train of thought. "You're right though. There's not much else to say. The situation - well, it sucks. But we don't know anything yet."

Ella nodded. Then, on impulse, she reached out and grabbed Corran's hand. She brushed her fingers across his palm and fingertips much like she had done to the flowers before. Only this time she did it with a wicked smile.

"Tease." he laughed. "Finally giving up on Victor?"

~~Can't wait for him forever.~~ Ella replied after letting go of his hand, although the thought of him out there somewhere still hurt. ~~But, and more importantly, I'm better at this game than you are.~~

"Oh, now that's sounds like a challenge." he replied, though Corran noted the expression in her eyes even as her hands spoke. The fighter pilot was all for a bit of fun, but not if it hurt someone. That never interested him.

And it was obvious to everyone, except the target of her affections, that one Ella Grey still had it hard for Victor Kreighoff. Corran settled for a comforting arm around her shoulders, and he spoke softly, reassuringly. "He'll make it back, Ella. I don't think there's anything out there that can take him down."

"'Course," he added with a smile. "You ever change your mind, I can easily let you find out how far down the spots go."

Ella chuckled softly.

And then realized that it hadn't been soft enough. The sound was horrible to her ears, like nails scraping against chalkboard. She stiffened and pushed away from him.

Corran darted up as the sound escaped her throat. It was the first noise he could ever recall Ella making. Until now, she'd always been silent as a.. well, silent as a mouse, to borrow Angel's name for her. "You're talking again!" he exclaimed loudly.

She shook her head. ~~I've got to go, Corran...~~

"Oh, hell no." he replied, grabbing her arm. "Ella, this is great! Why're you hiding it?"

Ella could feel the early stages of panic kicking in but tried to fight it off as best she could. She halfheartedly tried to pull away. ~~It's not... I didn't want to do it.~~

"Allright, I'm getting the visual, but I've got no audio here. You didn't want to do what?

She looked at him, wide blue eyes staring into his and wondered if he would understand. Then she half wondered if the spots really did go all the way down. Then she told herself to stop delaying the inevitable.

"A," Ella said slowly with her new mechanical voice, compliments of Starfleet technology. "compromise."

"Hunh." Corran said simply as he heard the mechanical voice for the first time. "That's... different."

It wasn't too hard to force herself to smile. ~~For emergencies, Rex. It's too taxing to teach everyone in Engineering how to sign.~~

"But what about.." he tried to think of a different way to phrase it, but he came up empty. "What about your real voice?"

~~I'm using it.~~ She explained in sign. ~~It's just being shielded. So I get to use it like the doctors want, there's vocal interraction like Engineering needs... drinks all around.~~

"Except you sound like a robot."

She shrugged. ~~I don't expect you to understand.~~

"You wanted it to sound like that, didn't you?" he asked. "To set you apart. To make it seem like you weren't still really using your voice."

Well, that hurt. She was trying to hide not underline her speech. ~~No, I just didn't want anyone to hear my real voice... because it's mine.~~ She exhaled and then frowned at the strange whistling sound she made. ~~I know its neurotic.~~

That brought a chuckle. "You think that's neurotic? The voices in my head are gone, but I still talk to them. We're all screwed up, Ella. Some of us just acknowledge it more than others."

Stepping closer to her (though this close, given that he was a full foot taller than she, Corran practically loomed over the diminutive engineer), he drew her into what he hoped was a comforting hug. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." he said quietly.

Ella let herself be held for a moment and then hugged him back. "Not...yet."

"Private Concerns"
Lieutenant Brianna "Anna" O'Shea
Chief Engineer / Liaison for S.C.E.

::: Engineering, USS Galaxy :::

Sitting there at the central station in engineering, Brianna worked without much distraction. Her mind was focused on the world around her, as she finished resetting the new alignment for the ships sensors. Only did Anna look up when something broke through her concentration, when she did she usually frowned at whomever had caused it. Shaking her red locks slightly, she focused back down just as she did she heard something heavy hit the deck. Looking up she saw it was Ensign Erican, laying on the deck.

Standing up she rushed over, "Erican..." She said, checking the woman as she checked her vitals. She wasn't paying attention to the screen where Erican was working. "Medic to engineering..." Anna requested, even though it looked like she'd just passed out. She then looked up and everyone around her was looking at the view screen. Slowly, Brianna, stood watching the Federation news broadcast.

*"Again....if you are just joining us... tragedy is unfolding. We have unconfirmed reports that a starship has crashed into the planet Trill. What you are seeing now is the capital city of Leran Manev, home to vast libraries, museums and some of the most beautiful architecture on the planet. Now, devastation is as far as the eye can see. Entire city blocks have been laid to waste. Flames are spreading. There are countless injuries as many are still trapped beneath collapsed structures. Casualties are being estimated in the thousands. No word yet from the Symbiote Commission or President Durghan. We're going to go live to Kal Sigg who is actually at the scene..Kal..."

The screen switched to a scratchy and grainy video of a man holding a microphone, covered in dust and soot. He looked over his shoulder and cupped his ear.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me? My ears are still ringing. I can still feel the impact of the ship hitting the planet. The debris is making it hard to breath...Jesus, I have never seen such hell. There are people crying for help...sirens..."

A sudden explosion to the reporter's left toppled a wall. The camera could just make out Kal throwing his hands up in the air before the image went black.*

"Shut it off.." Anna ordered, "I said, shut that damn thing off!" Brianna said, then pushed aside an ensign and ended the broad cast. "We can't be distracted with that, we are engineers... we need to keep a sound and clear mind..." She said, looking at them. "I will allow us one moment to say a slight prayer, that is all I'll allow and I expect everyone to pull their weight or I'll pull yours from duty." Brianna said, she knew that her teams would be going there. Especially since the Galaxy was heading to Trill anyway.

Just then Brianna heard Henderson, telling her to get engineering relief teams ready for deployment. "Hart... finish the alignment with the sensors.. run a dialogistic and then upload into the new commands." She said, making not to have that finished.

"I'll be in my office," Anna said, knowing she'd have to began assembling qualified teams for relief. As she entered her office she paused and thought of her best friend, Jerel Aries.

"Computer, access assignment records.. Trill.."

"Accessed..."

"Current assignment of joined trill, Jerel Aries.."Brianna asked, as she moved over to her desk.

"Jerel Aries is currently in Leran Manev, Trill." The computer replied.

"Assignment there?" She asked.

"Advisor to President Durghan."

"Send a subspace message... inquire as to his status." Brianna asked.

"Unable to comply.."

"Why?" Brianna asked.

"Heavy inquiries have temporarily overloaded the communications network in Leran Manev, Trill."

"Understood.." Brianna said, then sighed as she sat down and began to assemble some names for teams to help with relief.

"I Can Only Say I Like You When You Can’t Hear Me"

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control Officer
Doctor Klaus Feinberg

Nara walked down the corridor and stood before the doors that swooshed to reveal 10-4ward. The awe that this used to be the very leisure spot of Star Fleet celebrities like Will Riker, Data and even that child genius, Wesley Crusher seemed to had faded. It was just part of the Galaxy now.

So Nara stood staring at the door. She just realized Saul and Miramon have dinner in here.

She turned and walked away.

~I won't let this stop me from doing what I normally do!~

She stopped and turned back.

~But I don't think I could see him without blowing up or crying.~

She did this a few times before coming to an idea. If he was in there, she could simply walk back out.

So she stepped forward a bit into the door and scanned the room. She didn't see Saul or Miramon. She walked to the replicator, ordered chocolate ice cream and went to her far table near the window to sulk.

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

Miramon had figured he'd best go and find Nara; let her know what was happening. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what to tell her, or even if she'd be interested, given what had been going on between the two of them at late. Okay, that last was probably an exaggeration on his part, but you could never be sure with either of them.

Saul was always too secretive, while Nara was simply impulsive, to his mind.

But then, both of them were a good 7 or 8 years younger than he was, so he was allowed to think so.

He'd checked with the computer to ascertain where Nara might be hiding. She wasn't on duty, so she was likely to have been in her quarters or the holodeck, but according to the computer, she was instead drowning her sorrows in Ten Forward. Or maybe she was just hungry and feasting away. Hard to tell, until he got there.

Stepping into Ten Forward, the doors hissing smartly open at his approach, he looked around the surprisingly empty room to spot Nara sitting, predictably, near a window, staring vacantly outside as the stars whooshed by as the ship traveled through warp. He smiled, then went over to a replicator and quietly made his order.

"Iced Tea, Raspberry flavor, 1 degree Celsius, no ice."

The replicator hummed and his drink quickly materialized on the pad, allowing him to pick it up and take a sip of the sweet drink. It had taken him ages to work out precisely which temperature it was best to drink it at - some liked it better when it was really cold, others liked it warmer. He’d eventually compromised and settled on a temperature which was still on the chilly side, but not so much so that it removed the entire flavor by overpowering it with the lack of warmth. After all, this was originally made from warm tea, refrigerated and served cold. It was better when a little on the warm side.

Now that he had his drink, the Bajoran headed over to where Nara was sitting, and had to clear his throat to get Nara to pay attention to his presence, since she was too busy concentrating on the chocolate and the view.

She jumped slightly and her eyes moved to focus on Miramon, then immediately went back to the table. She spoke sadly, "You were right. I should have told Saul how I felt--or rather what I thought I felt--before it was too late. Seems now he's Bran's boyfriend." She knew Miramon well enough to bypass all the hi, how are you junk. He knew the situation, so she just laid it out for him.

Miramon sighed, taking a seat adjacent to Nara and taking a moment to just look out the window at the stars, thinking how small their concerns were in comparison to the vastness of the space outside that window. Still, the galaxy wasn't his concern - these problems clearly were. He hadn’t known about Saul, and the human had certainly not mentioned that particular point - rather, he'd suggested that the thing between him and Branwen was still something he was considering, as opposed to something they'd settled upon.

Though he had bad news, the Bajoran considered it more appropriate to ascertain how she'd come to that conclusion.

"Who told you that one, Naranda? Someone spreading rumors again, or did Saul tell you this himself?"

"Bran told me. She came home all happy and stuff."

Miramon nodded. He'd thought as much. "And you believed this?"

"Why shouldn't I? She has no reason to lie to me and it's obvious the last thing she wants to do it hurt me. I have to convince her to not worry about me."

"I'm willing to bet she's reading more into the situation than is true. I was talking to Saul a little earlier, and he doesn't agree with that statement. Anyway, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Nara sighed and finally looked at him again, "I don't want to stand in the way of it. Even if she's reading too much into it, maybe it'll be what she thinks later on."

Nodding lightly, the Bajoran's face took on a graver expression. "Look, I was with Saul in the Intel offices, talking to him after our earlier conversation. Now, please don't panic, but he's fallen unconscious, so he's in Sickbay with Dr. Fienberg right now. I'm not quite sure what happened, but I thought you might want to know before you heard it via the grapevine."

Nara's face took on a worried look and she looked down as she stood. "Can I see him? How did it happen?" For a moment all confusion and hurt left and she just wanted to see him to be sure he was ok.

Miramon shook his head negatively. "I have no idea what caused it, or if you can see him. I’ve no idea what his condition is. Dr Fienberg said he'd keep me posted."

"Well what if nothing changes for a long time?" She was getting antsy at this point. "What if he's really sick?"

Miramon shrugged. "If he's really sick, there's nothing we can do about it, Nara. I'm not a doctor, and neither are you. We just have to hope it's nothing serious and let the Doctors do their job."

Nara shook her head, "You wouldn't say that if you hadn't seen him. I have to see for myself." She started walking to the door, even leaving the PADD she usually had with her.

The Bajoran watched as the half-human stood up and headed for the door, and then sighed inwardly. Impetuous, definitely. Standing up himself, he took a quick sip of the tea, grabbed the PADD Nara had left on the table, and then headed off after her.

--A Few Minutes Later--

Nara walked into Sickbay and barged in without even a word to the nurse who walked up to her smiling, "May I help you?" Nara ignored her. Her eyes searched beds.

"Nara, Miramon...hello...everything alright?"

Nara looked at Klaus. She was glad it was him. "I need to see Saul."

He was about to tell her no, but noticed the concern in her eyes. "OK.....Yes. Come with me." He had them follow him into ward two where Saul lay comatose.

"He's in a coma, but I....fixed...his problem. Only time will tell when he wakes up. I would bring him out of it, but I fear permanent damage if I do..."

Nara walked up to the bed and placed her hands on the edge looking at Saul and whispered, "Saul..." She looked angry suddenly, "What have you gone and done now! You got one girl thinking she has a boyfriend and another...." She trailed off remembering the two men standing near. Her voice lowered--hoping neither man could hear--and face softened into a sad look, "And now you go and make it where I can't even hear your voice or see your eyes." She wanted to touch his face, to tell him other things.

"All I can say is that Saul requires a certain medication to survive. It seems he forgot to take it for a short while, and ended up like this. I get the feeling that he didn’t even know the severity of not taking it. He's in good hands though."

She shook her head and grumbled, "You idiot." She allowed her hand to stroke his cheek.

While Klaus was altogether kind, goodhearted, and respectful......he could be blunt. "Indeed. I intend to monitor his doses from now on."

Nara looked over and suddenly realized her eyes felt wet. She willed the tears to stay put. "I didn’t mean you Klaus. I meant Saul."

"You are mistaken Nara. I meant that toward Saul as well. He seemed to have lapsed in his doses on his own, and nearly died as a result. I won't allow that to happen again."

Nara sighed and looked back at Saul, and spoke out loud, hypothetically, "Why would he forget something so important?"

"Perhaps the Chaos of the last month or so. A lot of things happened....I forgot to feed Ren for 3 days."

Nara sighed looking at Saul and mind-spoke, ~Saul...~ Before she could say more, the All-Hands announcement came. ~Saul, see what you're missing? You're better get your butt back out here. You've got some explaining to do.~

She looked at the two men, "Looks like we better get going."

Klaus was a perceptive man. "I envy you telepaths. It'd make my job and life a lot easier...."

Nara looked at him, "What do you mean?" She stepped closer, "Did you just overhear what I..." She looked to Miramon and wondered if he heard. She swore she focused it only to Saul.

"I didn't hear you....but your face spoke volumes." Klaus smiled sheepishly.

"Oh." Nara said embarrassed. "Sorry."

Klaus chuckled. "No need for embarrassment. I see this kind of thing all the time." He frowned for a moment. "I remember being like you are now with my father. Before he died, he was in an out of comas for about 3 weeks......At least Saul will survive. I stake my reputation on it."

Nara smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, "Thanks, Klaus. You always seem to be here when I need you." She smiled at him. He felt more and more like a reliable uncle.

Klaus moved away for a moment, checking a PaDD, and then getting a cup of Decaf Coffee.

Nara took the PADD Miramon had in his hands. “Thanks.”

She stepped back over to Saul’s unconscious form and whispered, “You better live. I kind of like you. I would like a chance to see if it’s love, someday. Kind of impossible if you don’t wake up though.” She stroked his cheek once more before turning away.

She walked toward the door waving the PADD at Miramon and Klaus, “Let me know when he wakes up.” She couldn’t bare thinking of any other alternative.

As she walked down the corridor to her quarters to change into her uniform, she knew she had to tell Branwen.

"A Quick Change & Some News"

Naranda & Branwen

Nara rushed into her and Bran's quarters and rushed into her room where she took off her clothes and threw them on her bed. Had they been less delicate, they would had stayed on the floor. She got her uniform on and pip and comm badge in place. She stepped out holding some pins and looked in the mirror that was in the common area and pulled her hair up. Times like this she was glad for the curls. Made the pins stick better and faster.

Branwen was trying to read a bit. The situation with Nara were still on her mind. She didn't understand why Saul had not told her they were more than friends. It really bothered her, yet at the moment there was nothing she could do about it.

She looked up when Nara came back in. "Hi." Branwen greeted her.

Nara was working a pin in when she heard Bran and she turned, "Hi." She turned back working the other pins in and when she felt her hair would stay in place, she walked over to the couch. She sat next to Bran and bent down to put on her boots. "I don't have much time, but I need to let you know something."

"Sure." Bran said. Probably Nara wanted to tell her more about her feelings for Saul. And she was willing to listen.

She pulled her pants leg over her boot and stood and shook the pants into place. She thought how to tell her without sounding uncaring. She sat back down and looked at her, "Saul's sick." She kept it vague so not to shock her.

"Sick?" Bran veered upright. "What is wrong with him exactly?"

Nara looked at her, "I won't go into detail, but he's in sickbay in a coma. Dr. Fienberg said he'll be fine." Nara hugged her. "He will. Klaus is a good doctor." She let her go and looked at he concerned. "I've got to go. It's a yellow alert. Will you be ok?"

"In a coma? I have to get over there. Dr. Fienberg you say?" She was on her feet, white as a sheet.

Nara felt fidgety. She shouldn't feel threatened by her going to see him. Was she? It didn't matter. She had to get to Engineering. "Yes." She stood and walked to the door. As it swooshed open, she turned to look at Branwen. She opened her mouth, but closed it realizing she had nothing to say. She walked out and down the corridor. There was a more urgent, tragic crisis. And bigger than their little triangle situation.

Nara made herself think of how'd she react if it were Sakaria. She couldn't go and fight blasting every phaser she could find, but she could do her job. The captain made a cheesy, but heartwarming speech. She honestly didn't care about heroism. She'd had enough of that on Sakaria. She just wanted to do her job. Besides, the arrogance that lingered inside said heroism came second nature to her. She shoved that away.

Arrogance only gets people killed. Maybe not yourself, but those who have to take the blunt of it. Every time she thought about charging in, those two men who died trying to bring her back to the foxhole came to her.

She was learning to think of how her actions effected others. She was learning that each decision, split second like the ones in battle or the ever lingering ones like to tell someone how you feel, could change not only her destiny, but those around her.

Branwen knew she had to go to work as well but she sent a quick message that she would be late and hurried of to sickbay to see Saul.

"Engineers, making ready"

Lt. Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, Chief Engineer / Liaison SCE
Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

LOCATION: Main Engineering

Nara rushed into Engineering about five minutes after Yellow Alert was activated. She assumed it was about normal, and this was confirmed with other people walking in from her shift. She and Mei smiled and nodded to each other as they moved to empty stations. She was annoyed to see Kastanza saunter in. He gave her a strange look and just walked to a station at the far end of the room. Nara wondered what was up, but was relieved at the same moment. She concentrated on the crisis at hand. Everything else would go on the backburner. That was also a relief.

"Nara.. I'm putting you on a team for relief efforts.. Most likely we engineers will be working together." Brianna said, coming out of her office. "We are going to first assess the structural integrity of the downed ship ship. Make sure it's safe for relief workers to move in..."

Nara turned to hear O'Shea and before her eyes focused on the woman, a bombardment of words came at her. Relief efforts. Assess structural integrity. Make sure it's safe. Nara nodded her head before she fully comprehended it and second later spoke, "Yes mam."

Anna could tell by the woman's look, she had no idea what was going on. "Reports are coming in that the USS Akula has crashed into Trill's capital city... Galaxy is going to be assisting with relief efforts... lot of dead, Nara. I need you with me on this, need you to stay focused... there's going to be a lot going on."

Nara nodded, "Yes, mam." Nara was concerned. She's a warrior. She could walk into a battlefield and just go at it. Why did it seem she had a hard time wrapping her mind around this task? Was it the stark cleanliness around her that detached her from the situation? "I've been in worse situations mam.
You can count on me at crunch time."

"Good.. cause there isn't any idea what we will run into when we get there. I need to make sure that my teams are ready, so when we get the word we can move in." Brianna said, then paused. "I know I've been hard on you, Nara. I was testing your limits, pushing them, because I was worried we'd be in a situation like this and I need competent people around me."

~I just thought it was typical b****y you.~ Nara thought, but smiled, "Understood." Nara was competent as they get. She was a bit annoyed at anyone thinking otherwise. Then again, this woman didn't know Nara from any other ensign, so she was spared the fish-slapping. Plus, she was her superior. It wouldn't do to have a reprimand.

"Good... I need you to start by taking this list, get a couple of people to help you and ready some things. We need tricorders, and other moble equipment... I'm commandeering runabout Euphrates.. start by getting it ready for action." Brianna said, handing over the data padd.

Nara nodded taking the PADD and looked over the list. Initially she was a bit surprised at the sudden responsibility, but then she took on her commander mode she used in battle. She thought about people she seen in Engineering. Mei? Could she be counted on not to get frightened? George? She had to put her annoyance aside. Other people ran through her mind.

"Get it done, Nara. I've got to see about some other things, so I can devote the majority of my time to the relief effort once we reach Trill." Brianna said, then began to walk away. Wishing the computer would tell her something of Jerel, as she did so.

"Wake up and smell the ashes"

Ensign Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

Saul had no idea for how long he was unconscious. It might have been hours, days, or weeks. In his dreamless slumber, he was oblivious to the passage of time.

When he finally woke up, it was the professional yet caring face of Doctor Fienberg that greeted him. The Chief Medical Officer told him of what happened. Saul forgot to take his medicine for several days – how many, he couldn't tell for the life of him – and after the regular side effects took place, lumps of ChloroTriPetrin began forming in his bloodstream, and that prevented oxygen from being tied to Saul's red blood cells.

It was the 'gift' of one of Saul's ancestors four or five generations back, which was a Bolian. The small yet significant genetic heritage was almost neglible in some branches of his family, and very dominant in others. Saul was a single child, and during his teens he began growing a suspicion that his parents tried to bring more than one child to the world before him, and that these pregnancies failed because of the Bolian genes. It made sense, because his parents were married for ten years before finally making him.

Up until now, however, the only side affect the lack of medicine had was humorous results such as Saul's skin gaining a funny light shade of blue or purple, as though someone has beaten him and left marks. Saul had no idea that forgetting to take his medicine could bring him to that situation.

Even though he was now awake and feeling relatively well, Saul asked Klaus to disallow any visitors. Given his delicate situation, the doctor agreed, and decided to keep Saul in isolation in Ward 2 for a while.

More time has passed, how much Saul did not know – hours, days, minutes… he fell unconscious and woke up several times. In one of the sleeping periods he dreamt of Nara coming to him, and in another time he dreamt that he fulfilled his agenda, and enjoyed the fruits of his labour.

And then came the rude awakening.

Saul heard the sobs, and slowly woke up. A Trill nurse came into Ward 2, to change his sheets and make sure all the status monitors were functioning correctly.

Any marine psychologist could tell you that when the self-proclaimed knight-on-the-white-horse sees a woman sobbing, he comes to her help.

"What's wrong, nurse?", Saul asked, sitting in his bed.

"It's… it's terrible…"

She pulled a hypospray containing Saul's medicine – he had to take it directly and not via pills because of his situation – but her hand was shaking so badly Saul took the hypospray from her before she would damage anything.

"What wrong?"

"My uncle… was on Leran Manev when it happened. We were supposed to meet in a Raktajino lounge there once the Galaxy got to Trill. Now…"

"Something bad happened." Saul tried, as he pressed the hypospray against his wrist.

"He must be dead… they're all…"

It was then that Saul caught a glimpse of the other side of the ward. Two other occupants of sickbay were sitting next to a display, watching what appeared to be a news flash. Saul could hardly understand the details, both visual and vocal, but the display clearly showed rubble, smoke and sooth-covered people walking around aimlessly.

Not just people. Trill.

The Intelligence Officer, although still slightly dazed, began adding up the bits of information, which lead him to a very simple conclusion.

"Well, thanks for your treatment, I'll be going to my quarters now." He said in the most natural tone he could bring, and stood up.

"Excuse me sir, but you can't…. can't leave, you are still under observation.", The woman didn't sound too convincing, because most of her words sounded more like sobbing. She rubbed her eyes.

"Doctor Feinberg didn't tell you? My situation has gotten good enough to release me to home-care. Thank you for your concern."

"I… I haven't heard anything about it.", The nurse protested.

"Of course he didn't have any time to tell you, with the disaster. Can you blame him?"

The nurse simply nodded, and went on her way. Saul stretched slightly, and began pacing carefully. It was obvious that he was needed, but it was also obvious that if he encountered any doctor that would recognize him – Feinberg, Tizarin, or even the new doctors who joined his trip of the ship – he would be towed back to bed and potentially chained to it.

For the next several minutes, Saul used all of his stealth skills. He hid behind corners, turned his face to the wall as he noticed a faraway officer, sneaked into side rooms and dodged any possible threat. Eventually, dizzy and suffering from a terrible headache, he found himself outside sickbay.

"Well." He straightened his cloths, and began pacing as fast as he could toward his quarters. He would have to trade his sickbay robe for a fresh and clean uniform before getting to the Intelligence CIC.

Once he got to his quarters, the first thing he did was to open the main display on the Federation News Network.

What he heard in the next few seconds made him change cloths a hell of a lot faster.

It reminded him of a story he once read. It was the journal of an ancestor, which was published only a century after it was written. That ancestor, Doron Bental, was two years younger than Saul back on 2001, when the story took place. Ironically enough, he was…

* * * 11/9/2001, Netanya City, Israel * * *

1st Lieutenant Doron Bental was sitting alone on the boardwalk, watching the Mediterranean sea. It was the third day of his vacation. His commander had to order him to take that vacation, since otherwise he would lose vacation days. It was Holiday season in Israel, so he had several vacation days coming anyway, and after a long and straining service as an Intelligence Officer, Doron didn't complain too much.

He watched two high school girls as they approaches the stairs leading down the cliff and to the shore beneath them, and wondered how everyone were doing back at the base. There were several issues he left unresolved, such as the Hermon smugglers business and the Abed Tirawy report, but his two NCOs could probably advance these matters in his absence.

Some times he wished he could forget about work completely for a while.

A moment later, when his cell phone rang and he replied, he wished work could forget about him as well.

{To Be Continued}

"Lies or Lives?"

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lieutenant Klaus Feinberg

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Dr. Fienberg emerged from the turbolift. The bridge was a place he never had to see very often. Just as well. The Carnage on Trill was on screen, and quite soon he'd probably be in the thick of it. And all of this with Saul in a coma in sickbay. Just another day at work.

The Galaxy Class bridge was never a familiar place. A helpful duty officer pointed him to the ready room.

With a ring, he waited. Chances are he'd be there a little while.

It took less time than he'd anticipated, perhaps only ten minutes, for the door to slide open and the Captain's voice to ask him in.

M'Kantu had three empty coffee cups on his desk and another in his hand, and no less than six PADDS displaying different charts and graphs to compliment whatever it was that he'd set to scroll on his desk's LCARS panel. He looked tired and sad. "Doctor," he nodded as Klaus entered the room. "I know you have a big job ahead of you, but this wasn't something that I wanted to broadcast over the comm." He frowned. "What do you know about Trills? The symbionts and their relation to the host?"

He may have gone to Vulcan's Medical Institute, but Trill were a specialty as well. "Captain, the relationship between a Trill and its Symbiont is very close. As you already know, they merge to being a single sentient being. I believe I understand them very well. To the Trill, as you may already know, history is very. Very important....and what better way to learn more about history than to join with a being that may have lived through events the host may only have read about.....quite fascinating, and I actually agree with their desire, the unjoined I mean of course, to join with a symbiont. I can see why it's such an honor." Klaus had said too much... "I do have two Trills in my staff. Ensign Lias, one of the Joined, and Lt. Jack Slen, an unjoined Terran/Trill hybrid expertly versed in trill physiology." The Doctor held his hands together with his face in an unsure, yet quietly sad, expression.

"The reason I ask is this, Doctor," Daren tapped a control and brought up an image of the crash site on the room's main viewer. "There are going to be wounded - thousands of them - and some of them will have symbionts. Some of those wounded will, regrettably, die, despite anyone's best efforts to the contrary. Some of those that do will carry symbionts, which will die when their host does." He looked at the image for a moment. "But they don't have to."

Klaus was well versed with the medical community. "I have heard rumors that...symbionts can be safely removed from the host..." Klaus was silent for a moment. "The rumor is true?"

"I'm told that they can, Doctor. I want you to contact Dr. Julian Bashir at Deep Space Nine, explain the situation to him - I expect he'll already know about it - and request that he give you the information on the procedure that you and your team are going to need to save the symbionts." M'Kantu frowned. "The procedure's existence is not common knowledge, and we can't expect that anyone on Trill will know it, so you and your team will need to become experts in the time it takes us to get there."

M'Kantu finished off the coffee in his cup. "If anyone questions the procedure now, or planetside, tell them... tell them it's experimental, and we're using it now to save lives." He looked at Klaus penetratingly. "The Trill government's reasons for not disclosing the procedure publicly are none of my concern, Doctor, and if anyone planetside tells you to stop using it, or deny it's existence, you can tell them to... well, I'm sure you have a good enough medical knowledge to make up something painful."

Klaus merely nodded. For a moment his memory wandered to Dr. Bashir, a man he hadn't spoken too for nearly 6 years, despite knowing him on a first name basis. A man he fought alongside. "I will contact Julian and educate my staff. Dr. Slen will likely be very interested, and may have some information on the matter as well." Klaus thought for a moment already slightly charged by the smell of caffeine. "There is a problem however. Where are the symbionts going to go once they are removed? To the Symbiont pools? I remember hearing something about the pools having been endangered by the Akula's impact."

M'Kantu's frown deepened, and then relaxed, as if he'd released something that had weighed on his mind. "If possible, that would be ideal. If not, I am also informed that the percentage of Trills who are physically capable of accepting a symbiont successfully is... somewhat higher than the figure the government admits to."

"Hmm......" Klaus turned slightly to the side.

"Approximately fifty percent of the population," M'Kantu replied. "Factoring in the psychological component, the figure is lower by perhaps ten percent."

"Another rumor I am familiar with.....this complicates things, quite a bit.......their entire culture was already in danger because of this, and that fact alone makes it many times worse. The best I can believe is that we could have counseling assist the symbiont commission in a crash course to decide who is psychologically fit to carry a symbiont."

"I thought perhaps you might discuss the situation with Lieutenant Rex and Commander Dallas and arrive at some temporary solution, Doctor." Daren's gaze shifted and hardened slightly. "Whatever the system you come up with is, understand this: I am concerned with saving lives, not saving the current government of Trill."

"Sir, I am a doctor. As much as I admire and respect the Trill Culture.... the lives still come first. I will call upon Lt. Rex and Commander Dallas shortly."

"Then I'll let you get to it, Doctor." Daren stood and nodded to Klaus. "Let me know if you need anything and I'll see what I can do."

"Aye Sir." Klaus clicked his heels and immediately walked out.

2214