"Am I In Trouble?"

Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer / SCE

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol, Roswell, Engineer

LOCATION: Outside O'Shea's Office.

Nara dreaded this moment. She expected people to be angry at her. With the help of Saul, she had convinced her closest friends, co-workers and superiors of her death. Then she wasn't dead. There had to be some kind of law against that. Regardless of reason, she was sure she'd be demoted, kicked off the ship, made to scrub the nacelles with a tooth brush, or worse of horrors: court marshaled.

At best, she figured she'd be demoted. That's why she fingered the tiny pip in her hand. She decided to hand it over. Maybe then a worse consequence would be avoided.

She pressed the chime on the door with the other hand.

"Come." Anna said, as she sat behind her desk reading a report that Ella had turned in. When the doors opened there stood Lt. Jg Roswell, Anna didn't have a surprised look since she had gotten word from security that Nara was alive. "Before I say anything... say what you want." She said, leaning back and crossing her legs letting the woman speak.

Nara nodded, "First I apologize. There was an attempt on my life, and I had to fake my death. I'm not trying to make an excuse." She placed the pip on the desk.

Anna's eyes looked up from the pip and then settled on Nara's face. "I could have you charged with desertion of duty, endangering the lives of Starfleet officers and acts unbecoming of a Starfleet officer." Anna said. "Desertion because you failed to mention this to any superior officer... you said nothing to me, Ella or even the Captain. Nothing. Endangering the lives of Starfleet Personnel, the ones that searched for your ass while you were off somewhere having big fun. Acts unbecoming of an Starfleet Officer... lying, deception and disorderly conduit."

Nara's face felt hot the instant she mentioned "big fun." Nara's temper just escalated as she spoke. This woman didn't understand and she was sure that any explaining she could do wouldn't matter. She was right. Why hadn't Saul at least told the captain? Her anger turned toward Saul. O'Shea was only doing her job and she was right. Yet Nara had the large urge to sternly state that she was NOT having fun. That she had found a way to still help.

But it was of no purpose, so she held her tongue.

"I didn't get to the position I'm in for being stupid. I know exactly this has something to do with Saul Bental. Only makes sense, Nara. I've looked over your file, you claim to have been a warrior in the Sakarian military. I think that's bullshit... a warrior wouldn't do the acts you've done. If anything, I think your family and father got you everything you've achieved within the Sakarian military. I can't remove you from duty, I can't take back that pip, but I will be making some formal punitive recommendations to the captain and advise a formal reprimand be placed on your record for your actions." Anna said.

"Before you say you couldn't tell us, you know that's bullshit. So save it.. I'm going to advise the Captain to place a reprimand on Saul Bental's record for misuse of Starfleet Intelligence personnel and deceiving a ranking fleet officers and enlisted personnel..." Anna said, then picked up her coffee.

Nara felt angry, shamed and confused of what she was expected to do next.

She softly sighed partly to keep her emotions in check and as humbly as she could muster spoke. "Yes ma'am." O'Shea had no idea how those words awakened Nara's own insecurity about her place in Sakaria.

"If I had my way I would court marshal you for the charges I stated. That's for the Captain to decide. My recommendations stand." Anna said, then give a dismissing wave. "and Lieutenant." She said pausing the woman before she could leave. "You will do well not to have stand before me again like this, cause my patience with you is growing very thin. You wear a uniform of a officer in the finest fleet there is. Start acting like it, shape up.. or I'll ship your ass back to Sakaria and let you go home to your beloved home with the ideal that you disgraced Starfleet Command and got kicked out." Anna said.

"Your dismissed." She said, then sighed and looked back down at her padd in hands.

Heart in her stomach, Nara took the pip and formally walked out the door.

Outside the door, she tentively put the other pip in place feeling shamed as she was sure O'Shea had meant to do. She got to her station and Mei looked at her, and seeing the look on her face, said nothing. Nara's face was pale and flushed if possible. Moments like this, she hated female emotions as she tried hard to concentrate on her work, promising herself that she'll cry later. Knowing full well, that by then, it would likely just changed into an intense desire to strangle Saul Bental.

Calling her a 'lieutenant was bitter in Anna's mouth, she didn't deserve or act like a lieutenant in her book. She was sighed and stood up to put her cup back in the replicator. "Computer. Send my file Captain M'kantu, label it regarding recommendations for Lt. JG Roswell." Anna said then turned and headed out of her office, she had to meet Paulo for dinner and then pack for her trip with Marcus.

"Past, Present & Future"

Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea
Chief Engineer/ SEC Liaison

Ensign Paulo DiMillo
Intelligence Officer

Anna had talked to Marc and told him she had to meet a friend in tenforward. Though the chief engineer didn't tell Marcus that the one she was going to meet was her brother. When she entered tenforward, she selected a table in the corner and waited for Paulo to arrive.

Paulo walked down the corridor heading for ten forward. He had just finished talking with his mom and she took it somewhat well. He walked into ten forward and looked around and found her at a corner table. He walked over.

"Hey... wasn't sure you'd come." Anna said, standing as he approached the table.

"I couldn't do that, though I was thinking of bringing a security team," he said trying to lighten the mood. "The last time I met someone that wasn't work related I spent six months in hell."

"Been there.. done that." Anna said, then smiled as she sat back down. "You hungry, or just want to talk?" The Irish woman asked as she rested her hands in her lap and just looked at him intently. Already seeing some small signs of her father in him.

"I am hungry. I don't think I have had anything to eat all day," Paulo replied looking back and taking his seat.

"Me to... actually." Anna said, looking over the menu. She then looked up. "Don't think of me as the chief engineer or a someone with the rank of lt. commander... I'm Anna.. call me Anna." She said, then smiled.

Paulo looked up from his menu, "all right... Anna." It was going to take some time to get used to calling her that. In his mind she was still the chief engineer with the rank of Lt. Cmd. "Though your going to have to help with that; takes some time to get used to it."

"Smack you around." Anna said. "So... how about we order something to eat then we'll go from there?" She suggested as she then motioned a waitress over. She ordered her food and then the waitress looked at Paulo.

Paulo gave the waitress his order and turned back to Anna. "So, who goes first?"

"well... have any questions about my dad.. or me?" She asked him as she looked at him. "I'll answer or try to answer everything I can."

"How about your dad, what is he like? All I know is from what the intelligence files share, and they tend to highlight the bad things more often then the good things," Paulo said..

"Well... dad is someone who is dedicated to his job. Loves his career. Doesn't really approve of me though. Doesn't think a woman, or maybe it just might be me that he has a problem with. Looks like he's good at having sons, so probably just his only daughter he as issues with." Anna said then smiled, as the waitress returned and sat there food down and then turned to leave them alone once more.

"He sounds completely different from my...," Paulo really had no idea how to talk about the man who had helped raised him, "dad," he finally said. "He treated all three of us equally."

"What was he like?" Anna asked.

"Support-of, caring, loving," Paulo said remembering back to his childhood. "He changed a little though on that dark day. I think we all changed. He became more reserved, closed in, isolated."

Looking at him questioningly. "What dark day?" Anna asked, having no idea what had happened.

"The day my younger sister was taken from us. We all changed. Her twin brother died less then six months later, leaving just me and my parents." Paulo stopped eating as the memories rushed back to him. How hard he forced them down.

Sliding her hand over the table, she took his and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry. Didn't know." Anna said, wishing she hadn't asked.

"It's okay. It's what drives me in what I do, to find those that did this. Though it has also led me to my own hell, a hell that I relive every night." Paulo looked down and looked at her hand holding his. "They may have been annoying, irritating, but they were my brother and sister and I loved them with all my heart."

"I am sorry... is there anything I can do?" She said, wishing she could do something for him.

"Not unless you can bring them back, but I think that is even imposable. Chris is dead and there has been no sign of Imari for all these years." He paused to try and take a bite of his meal, and se the fork back down. "I have to learn to move on though. 'You can't live in the past.'"

"No. You can't. With help you can have a bridge for the future." She said, "I'm not Imari. But hopefully I am someone that you can trust someday."

Paulo looked up at her. She truly was different then the bad ass chief engineer of the Galaxy. There was a lot more to her then met the eye and Paulo was interested in learning all he could. He simply nodded at her.

"Eat... you look thin." Anna said, then smiled. She then folded her arms over her back. "Makes you feel better, dad loves his son very much." She said then grinned.

Paulo let out a small smile. "Very well big sister, as long as you eat something to. Your still recovering."

"Eating is a strong point with me." Anna replied then grinned. She then picked up her spoon to eat some soup. "Did you talk to you mom?" Anna asked.
"Yeah, she took it a little better then I thought, but not by much."

"That's good.. right?" Brianna asked, lifting her drink up to take sip.

"She resisted, not wanting to believe it, but she admitted it towards the end and wishing me luck. She just never wanted to run the tests hoping that it was my father and not yours," Paulo replied taking a sip of water.

"Yeah. Not sure how to go about talking to dad. Have stuff to tell him and mom and just not sure what to do about you, telling them or holding off. Figured I'd ask you and see if you wanted people to know or not."

"I don't see a reason of holding it back," Paulo replied. "It would get out sooner or later, and I prefer sooner then later. And plus, rumors are such a bad thing."

Anna nodded. "Aright... then I'll find the right time and tell mom and dad." She said. "Feels weird not being the baby anymore." She said, then smiled.

Paulo smiled, "well someone has to be, and it's weird not being the eldest anymore." Paulo wondered how his own dad was going to take the news. His mom was most likely talking with him right now about it.

"Listen to your elders." Anna said, then kicked him softly with her foot as she grinned and took a bite of her soup.

Paulo smiled back. "So, that does apply to siblings? Interesting."

"Would you rather it have been an order?" Brianna asked, as she grinned at him and then pushed her bowl back, unable to eat anything else. Paulo laughed again. "How about the elder sister treats her younger brother to desert," Paulo said with a grin.

Anna nodded and motioned to the waitress. "I can do that..." She said, then grinned as they ordered dessert and them settled in for a long chat over dessert. Each sharing more about their lives and questions being answered in the processes.

“Intense Negotiations”

Romulus, Omar Estate

“To be perfectly honest, gentlemen, I can’t see how Atole Tekri can be allowed anywhere near the Galaxy ever again.”

With that statement, Simon Matthews, the Federation negotiator, reached for his briefcase in preparation to leave.

Tr’Khudrae, Proconsul Omar and Lieutenant Commander Matthews had been sitting in the grand dining room for the past three hours. Matthews had been sent to Romulus so that Omar could – through the former lawyer Tr’Khudrae – appeal for his Tal Shiar agent to be allowed back onboard the Galaxy. A hard task, especially considering what her last mission had involved.

Matthews had put forward countless reasons for rejecting the request, and – as a skilful diplomat – Tr’Khudrae had parried every one of them with a counter-argument. But the negotiations were clearly going nowhere, and Matthews had finally run out of patience.

“Please,” Omar said politely. “Lieutenant commander, sit back down for just a bit longer. We must resolve this situation to the mutual agreement of all parties.”

“To your agreement, you mean,” the Starfleet officer muttered, but he did reluctantly sit down.

“Frankly,” he said in a louder voice. “I can’t understand why this request wasn’t rejected over subspace. I only came here because Admiral Owen Paris is a good friend of mine, and he asked for me personally to go. And apparently he’s a good friend of yours too, Proconsul, or else this whole thing would have been dismissed instantly.”

“Calm yourself,” Omar ordered, his fingers rapping against the hand-carved dining table. “There must be something we can do to convince you to recommend to the Federation Council that it would be safe to allow my operative back onto the Galaxy.”

“No, proconsul,” Matthews began to raise his voice again, getting angry. “You say your operative needs to go onboard for personal reasons, what the f*** does that mean?”

If Omar was surprised by the Federation negotiator’s insolence, he didn’t show it. Instead, he raised a hand and waited for the butler to arrive.

Seconds later, Tal came scurrying in, carrying a small black box. Omar smiled when he saw it, and took it from the manservant. He then offered it out to Matthews.

Matthews eyed the box sceptically. What was going to be in it? Gold latinum? Priceless jewels? None of that meant much to humans, who had grown beyond such materialism. If Omar thought he could buy his opinion, he was…

The Starfleet officer thoughts were interrupted when he opened up the lid of the box. He emitted a small gasp at what was inside – it was probably the last thing he was expecting, especially on Romulus.

A single silver pip sat comfortably in the box. But it was no ordinary pip – it was a Starfleet officer’s pip.

The pip of a full commander.

“It can be yours,” Omar smiled with delight at his reaction. “I’ve already recommended you to Admiral Paris. All you have to do is recommend us, and then I’ll keep to my recommendation of you. That way all parties are mutually satisfied. Agreed?”

Matthews could only nod. It seemed remarkably shallow for him to be taken in by such a vain offering, but he couldn’t help it. He had only made lieutenant commander a matter of weeks ago – and it would usually be several years at minimum before he reached the rank of full commander. Not anymore.

Tr’Khudrae merely looked on silently with distaste at these dealings. In stark contrast to his appearance a week ago, he was now wearing as much finery as he did during his time on the senate. His horrid work overalls had been disposed of, and he felt more than comfortable in these extremely expensive robes.

However – it had all been bought with the Proconsul’s money, and Tr’Khudrae was well aware that, contrary to all external appearances, he was socially lower than a peasant.

For he was nothing but a pawn of the Proconsul, just as this Starfleet negotiator would be – as soon as he accepted Omar’s “gift.” Of course, the pip was no present but, rather, an acknowledgement from Matthews of his servitude to the general.

And now they were both servants, even if it were not immediately apparent. Tr’Khudrae couldn’t help it – Omar was the only ally he had. Recently, he had considered approaching tr'Hwaehrai for assistance, despite the fact that it had most likely been the admiral who had exposed him in the first place. Tr’Hwaehrai was a good citizen (which was more than could be said for Omar) and the former senator had hoped that the admiral might be able to lend a hand. And, unlike Omar’s help, it wouldn’t make him into a political pawn.

But, as of yet, Tr’Khudrae had failed to work up the courage to covertly approach the admiral. So, for now, he would assist Omar in any way he could. Just like Matthews - it was clear that Atole Tekri would be coming onboard the Galaxy very soon.

"family bonds II"

by Turan Trelar, Quentite

"Ambassador" Meena - old age Trill woman

Trill, planet surface. A ruin near ground zero ...

"Got him!" shouted the man on Turans left side. The man removed a piece of rock and pointed at a piece of severely bruised skin.

"Him?" asked Meena and climbed towards the man.

"It's a boy ... definitely" answered the man.

"Can't be" contradicted Meena and started to carefully remove piece after piece of rubble. The child's body was in a bad shape. More dead than alive, the body looked rather battered, covered with a stained mixture of blood and dust. And indeed, the child was male.

Realizing that all hope to find her little girl alive was gone made Meena's power fade away. Her knees became jelly. A single tear ran down her cheek. The old trill woman didn't just abandon all hope to ever see her 'button-nose' again.. It seemed as if something deep inside her broke, as if she lost her will to live. Slowly, the woman leaned forward and finally collapsed. Without her hands giving any support to the falling body, her face hit the ground.

Turan got up. "Meena?", he addressed her. She didn't react.. "MEENA?" Again there was no reaction. The Trill medical orderly who cared for the buried alive boy turned towards the woman and scanned her with his medical tricorder.

"Breakdown,circulatory disorders, unconscious but alive. Nevertheless, it's best to bring her to the hospital." He diagnosed.

"You ..." he addressed Turan "... what's your name?"

"Turan, sir." answered zhe Quentite giant.

"Ok, Turan," ordered the medical, "try to get your hands on a zero-g-carrier and bring her to the MASH ... it's located at the refugee camp ... follow that street.". The medical pointed at an aisle through the ruins which could have been a street few hours ago.

"Complicated Aftermath"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering

Saia Juis (APC)

Dr. Wert, Counselor (NPC)

Nara walked down the corridor. She had fought sleep the past hours staring at the boring console and returning systems to normal after the hits from the DIIS. She just wanted to go get Saia and go home and sleep. She hit her head with her hand as she stood waiting for the turbolift. Where would Saia sleep!? She'd deal with that and Bran later.

Returning was not pleasant. It took about an hour for Saia to be approved to come to the USS Galaxy. After they FINALLY beamed aboard, a very rude security officer informed her that a note had been sent to the Chief of Engineering and that she had better get her "butt" to work. Pretty much the same crap O'Shea gave her. Except with that security prick, Nara was able to give him an evil eye as she walked past him repeating his words about going to work.

She had reluctantly left Saia with one of the counselors as she went on her first shift. She would figure out what to do after that. Saia pouted, but the woman had handed Saia a PADD and Nara wasn't sure what happened after that.

Nara walked into the waiting area of the counseling offices to find Saia using a small stylus on the surface of the PADD. Nara sat in the chair next to her and watched Saia's brown eyes stare intently at the screen. Nara looked down to see an elaborate bouquet of flowers. Saia looked up and ahead of her. Nara followed her eyes to see a similar arrangement sitting on the table. Nara smiled, "You're really good at that."

Saia jumped and looked at Nara. She smiled and threw her arms around Nara.

"She's been at it since you left. There are maybe 50 doodles in that PADD now." Nara turned to see Dr. Wert, a counselor standing there smiling.

"They're not doodles." Saia pouted.

Nara raised an eyebrow, "She's right. It's sketches." She looked at Saia, "Is that the right word?"

Saia nodded and went back to drawing. Nara stood and walked over to the young, blonde woman. "Did she talk to you?"

Doctor Wert shrugged, "I looked at the brief report you sent, so I asked if she missed her parents." Wert gave a sly smile to Nara, "She's almost as closed as you."

Nara smiled looking down. The chief counselor seemed to have the counselors ganging up on her. Trying to get her to admit there was something bothering her. Well those counselors bothering her bothered her! She looked back at Saia, "She seems to rather just sketch."

Wert looked at Saia, "I said almost. She did talk after awhile. I sat here doing some reports and she would stop sketching sometimes and look around till she found something else. I would ask her things then. Or she would volunteer information. She misses her parents very much. She asked about 20 times when you were coming back. You're the closest thing she has to a guardian. In her eyes and in the eyes of the superiors here. It's temporary for now, but she's your responsibility."

Nara looked at her nodding. She whispered, "But I don't know what to do with her! We did fine when we had to help each other on Trill, but." Nara cast a nervous look at Saia, seeing her differently. No longer was she a helper and someone who could speak for her, but now as someone Nara had to take care of. It scared the wits out of her.

Wert smiled, "Well, get her in the school. I already contacted the principle and he'll meet with you when he can. Until then, just take her in. She's on the row."

Nara nodded, "Uh huh. What time does that start again?"

Wert laughed and handed her a PADD, "Here's the information. When to drop her off, when to pick her up and all. Also have her checked out by medical tonight."

Nara sat in a chair again, overwhelmed. "This changes our relationship. I wanted her to be safe, but I didn't think of anything beyond that. Before she was.Now I've." Nara put a hand to her head.

Wert sat beside her, "You can do this. It's only for a short time till we find someone who can adopt her." Wert looked at Nara watching Saia nervously, "Unless by then.."

Nara looked at Wert. "I can barely handle now. We'll deal with that later."

Wert nodded, "Right. But I'll be talking to you once and a while to see how things go. I fully believe you're able to care for her. You just need some help for now. Any questions, ask."

Nara nodded and sighed. She went back to Saia. "Are you ready?"

Saia mumbled, "I can't get the petals right."

Nara sat down, "I need to take you to sickbay before we go home."

Saia looked at Nara, "Home? Trill is my home." Saia pushed a button on the PADD saving the image and slid the stylus into its slot as she stood.

Nara nodded, "I'm sorry. I mean my quarters. I have a room mate who needs to meet you." Nara stood and sighed as she smiled and nodded to Dr. Wert and walked out.

A little down the hall, Nara noticed Saia kept glancing at her, "What?"

Saia shrugged, "You look different than I expected."

Nara laughed, "Well, what did you expect."

"I realized you didn't have the spots after meeting that guy."

Nara stopped causing Saia to be quiet. Nara knelt down and whispered, "Those meetings didn't happen."

Saia looked at her strangely.

Nara frowned, "Just don't mention them ok? Next time you meet Saul.." Nara put a hand to her head. This was getting complicated. "Never mind." She stood and continued walking. She wouldn't ask Saia to lie. She hoped it wouldn't come up. Nara would confront Saul as soon as he came back. She had words forming in her head. Why didn't he inform any of the superiors? They couldn't ask a child to lie. Saul was in deep.

"Adults don't make sense."

Nara sighed as they continued walking, "We don't make sense to each other either, Saia."

"Return of the Ass Chief!"

also known as...

The Rogue Epilogue (Try to say that five times fast!)

With appearances by Captain Darren M'Kantu, Leo Streely, Commadore Chris Thomas, Major Laughing Horse Log and the Starfleet Marines, and Commander James Corgan.

Also appearing on the 'Big Show' tonight are the former Galaxy Security officer Lt. Commander Raven Darkstar and the man, the myth, the legend himself - give it up for Mr. John Q. Bhrode and his First Officer Lysander Vander-Puls Hawksley!!!

I know, I know. Sure seems like a lot to digest at one time.

Take it slow. You'll be fine. Promise.

Time: Hours after the end of the controversial "Guess who's coming to the dogfight" Part 3.
Location: The USS ZEUS

Suggested sound track: The Imperial Death March.

Throughout mankind's storied history amongst the stars, men and women of power have often found themselves coming together in summits that have often changed the coarse of the future. Be it the Vulcan's first landing on Earth only one day after Zefram Cochran's first warp flight, Benjamin Sisko's first encounter with the Bajoran Prophets, or Captain Picard meeting a young warlord named M'kyn'zee, the examples of such a feat are endless.

It was in that tradition that the past and future collide this very day as Captain Darren M'Kantu, the even keeled commanding officer of one of the Federation's most famous ships: the USS GALAXY, found himself aboard the USS ZEUS, a bristling, ominous battleship, awaiting the arrival of the ship's master, the former Captain of the GALAXY, John Q. Bhrode.

He stood in the cavernous cargo bay and watched as what appeared to be an entire company of Starfleet Marines marched inside, their polished black boots echoing in unison with each step giving the illusion of thunder rolling through the ship.

"Quite a show of force." James Corgan, Chief of Security whispered to M'Kantu who nodded solemnly. Behind them, the captured members of Commander Christopher Kell Thomas' ill fated ship - the USS DIIS - found themselves eyeing each other nervously. The GALAXY's security detail stood guard in the event that any of the prisoner's fear would build to such a degree that they would attempt an escape.

Once the Marines fell into formation, Lysander Hawksly entered pushing an anti gravity sled.

Strapped to the sled, secured in what appeared to be a straight jacket, and wearing a muzzle across his mouth was Commander Thomas. His eyes radiated an intense hatred that could be felt by everyone in the room.

Finally, flanked by the two hulking Indian twins, former assistant chief of Security aboard the GALAXY Lt. Commander Raven Darkstar and Major Laughing Horse Log, commanding officer of the Starfleet Marine detachment, John Q. Bhrode strode confidently up to his guests.

As soon as his custom made, Hirogen skinned boots stopped moving, the Indian bodyguards snapped to immediate attention.

A few moments died a cold, icy death as the gray haired man with weather beaten skin trained his thousand yard stare at the assembled prisoners.

A large puddle of piss formed at the legs of one of the former crewmen of the DIIS.

Bhrode's hawklike gaze noticed this, and he locked eyes with the prisoner, the vein on his temple beginning to throb dangerously. Before he could even speak, the prisoner fell to his knees and began mopping the urine with his own shirt.

"First of all..." he started, then paused a few more agonizing moments.

"You all have got to be the biggest wastes of sperm that have ever had the privilege of breathing my air. If I were your father, I would blind myself with a rusty spoon rather then have to look upon you miserable failures." he snapped his head over to Thomas. "Is this the best you could shit out? This hodge podge of worthless nuggets?"

Thomas just gnashed his teeth together fiercely behind his restraint.

"Number Two, as he seems to be unable to, would you please shake the Commodore's head in the affirmative fashion?"

Lysander gently nodded Thomas' head yes.

"Nuggets, in the name of the Federation of Planets, I hearby arrest you all. The charges are quite frankly too damn many to list as you are not worth but very few more seconds of my time. Rest assured, your all screwed. You nuggets will all find yourselves in the confines of this fine vessel's brig. You will be transported straight to the nearest penal colony for holding. After which, I couldn't care less which shit pile you maggots find yourself crawling in. And by the way, they call them penal colonies for a reason." he said with a sneer.

"Any of you who wish to decline our special brand of hospitality, please remain in the cargo bay. I will be opening the airlock to get the stench of your putrid bodies off my ship. You are more then welcome to get out and walk to where ever your little hearts desire. Any of you who feel like creating a stir aboard my ship will find themselves, bound, gagged and anally plugged like the good Commodore over there. Any of you who attempt an escape will be launched out of a photon tube. I don't give one good goddamn what any Federation convention says about hospitality towards prisoners. You exist solely because it amuses me to allow it. Do I make my self clear?"

A small spattering of 'Yes' brought a look of scorn upon the man's face.

"Jesus Christ in a Taxi Cab! Sound off like you have a pair!"

"YES SIR!!" thundered through the cargo bay.

Bhrode waited for the echo to die down before he spoke again.

"Major Log, please escort the nuggets to the brig."

The Indian nodded briskly and barked out orders. The prisoners fell into ranks and were marched out of the bay by a group of the Marine detachment.

Once the doors swooshed shut (an odd thing for a door to do!) the commanding officer of the USS ZEUS looked once more at the delegates from the USS GALAXY.

"Thank you, Commodore Bhrode for..." M'Kantu began.

"It's Rear Admiral Bhrode now." Bhrode snapped at Darren. "I'd expect that kind of a lack-a-daisacal crapola from a junior officer, but not a Captain of Starfleet. Where's your pride, man?"

"Here is the Engineering Department's assessment of the GALAXY's damages." Lysander offered Bhrode a PADD, as the man glared at the officer who now held the command that had cradled Bhrode's buttocks in her Command Chair.

"See? My Engineers are squared away. The top of the line. Your people could learn something or other from them." Bhrode ranted, the famed 'temple vein' throbbing with every harsh word that left his lips. His eyes flickered over to Corgan.

"Ah, James Corgan. Fine young officer, provided you kick him in the ass once a week or so. Do you kick his ass for him Darren, or hold little holodeck picnics for them?" Bhrode waved away M'Kantu's icy faced rebuttal attempt. "I don't want a lot of shit and shinola excuses from you. Here's your new orders. You have a month to get your ship fixed and space worthy. Your crew is also to help the people of Trill in any ...humanitarian rebuilding efforts." he said almost choking upon the word. "Further more, you will be taking on two special guests. One will arrive before the month is over. They will instruct you further."

"The second?" M'Kantu asked, eager to out of the man's presence.

"Believe me Darren, I would like nothing more then to sit here and baby sit your group of rag tag misfits, however I have to take young Ambassador Thomas and his mutant bastard back to Starfleet Command. They are also getting eager to see VonErnst and Hawksley here. The problem is that you are making a bad habit of scratching and denting that little ship of yours. The Fleet is growing more and more concerned. As such, you are now assigned a new officer to work out of the tactical department. He's hand picked by me personally. His job will be to protect the ship as best he can. I have every confidence in his ability to do just."

"Meat truck!" Bhrode barked. Behind him, Lt. Commander Raven Darkstar snapped to attention. "Your belongings have already been beamed aboard the Galaxy. Give 'em hell, son."

"Aye, Captain." the Indian growled. He then strode over to the Galaxy landing party and stood next to Corgan.

"Welcome home." the Security Chief said with a grin.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Finally, Starfleet has accepted my recommendation to have a special Liaison between the USS GALAXY and The Fleet. He will be my eyes and ears. He will report to me personally on a weekly basis and he will therefore be afforded every courtesy of an Ambassador. Since he is already a member of your crew, there is no need to await his arrival."

"And the new ambassador is?" M'Kantu asked.

"When I was aboard that ship, whipping that nappy nap loving crew of yours into shape, there was one individual who seemed to have a knowledge of everything that was transpiring. I personally always thought him to be a giant pain in my ass, but he does have his uses. Do make sure that Ambassador Leo Streely contacts me as soon as he is informed of his new position." Bhrode ordered. "If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed."

"A moment of your time, Admiral." M'Kantu requested.

"Make it quick Darren. I have planets to destroy and hearts to strike fear in." Bhrode ordered, moving out of ear shot from the rest of the assembled.

"For the record, I find your actions unprofessional and your conduct reprehensible. My report will be forwarded to Starfleet command and it will include a detailed disposition on you, your conduct and commentary. If I have my way, I will see you brought up on charges. Further more, the appointment of Leo Streely to Ambassador is laughable at best and a tragedy waiting to happen." M'Kantu exploded. His rage, long channeled into impotency no longer able to take any more.

"Ambassador Streely is just a pair of eyes. Nothing more. If you are uncomfortable being observed, perhaps you have something to hide. As for me? I'm just the Fleet asskicker. I go where I'm told and I do my thing. It's not my fault that my thing seems to involve pulling the collective asses of USS GALAXY out of the fire." Bhrode purred. "You got a problem with that, Darren, you take it up with my boss. And save the subspace links, I don't work for Hoth anymore." Bhrode snarled handing a PADD to the GALAXY'S Captain.

The orders were there, spelled out just as Bhrode had claimed. It was the name on the bottom of the authorization that caught him off guard.

"Admiral Price." M'Kantu replied, shocked. Why would Price give the time of day to Bhrode, let alone promote him and his entourage of storm troopers?

"You have your orders, Darren. Commodore Thomas, say good bye."

Lysander snaked his arm through Thomas' restraints and waved.

Without another word, Bhrode executed a crisp heel turn and marched out of the cargo bay. Lysander wheeled Thomas out behind him and the Marine contingent began their thunderous choreographed march.

"Mr. Corgan. Let's get out of here." M'Kantu said.

"Excellent idea, sir."

*** Later in the Quarters of one Leo Streely ***

"WHAT!?!?! WHAT IS ALL THIS CRAP?!?!" Leo Streely shrieked, clutching the front of his smoking jacket and pointing to the two Fleet issued dufflebags that the portly Security Ensign just plopped in Leo's foyer.

"I was supposed to drop these off here. They belong to the new Assistant Chief of Tactical."

"I DON'T CARE IF THEY BELONG TO JAMES T KIRK HIMSELF!!! THIS IS MY APARTMENT!!" Leo exploded. " I DON'T SHARE A ROOM WITH ANYONE. UNLESS OF COARSE THEY HAVE BIG DARK NIPPLES AND LONG HAIR. I'M A SUCKER FOR NIPPLES AND HAIR."

"Heh, heh, heh. Mac, I just drop the stuff off. You got a problem with having a roommate, I suggest you take it up with them." the sweaty Ensign said, then exited the room leaving Leo fuming.

"How am I supposed to get laid with some drooling buffoon crimping my style! Im the Big Hoss! The Master of the Mound! The Veddic of the Vagina! The Pontiff the..."


BBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

"Ah, C'mon." Leo said to the door chime. "You tell the new Tac Weenie that I'm gonna personally kick the ever lovin shit out of..."

"Oh, no." Lt. Cmndr Raven Darkstar uttered.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
VVVVVVVVVEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNN!" Leo yelped in glee, throwing himself into the Indian, wrapping his arms and legs around his massive torso, knocking them both down in the process.

"Where the hell have you been, buddy?!?!?!" Leo asked.

"Um, Leo..can you get off of me before someone sees this?"

At that very moment the Catain Tac officer, Bosco rounded the corner.

"Whoa!!!" he purred whimsiclly. "Wherrre is a holo cam when you need one? By the way Leo...I hear your now an Ambassador!"

The little man's eyes suddenly lit up.


OOC: And with that Ladies and gentleman, Lt. Commander Raven Darkstar once again roams the halls of the Galaxy. This time in the Tactical Department! Look foreword to the same ol' zany mirth and merriment from Raven, Leo and old chum Bosco! Plus weekly holo visits from Bhrode! What more can ya ask for.

“Trials of the Father”

Location: Trill Leran Manev View Hospital, Recovery ward.

Primary character; Tanson Eshe

Also featuring,

Chandrakala Eshe (APC)

Kerenza Eshe (APC)

Doctor Sikes (NPC)

&

Random Trill & Vulcan nurses

Tanson sat back in the chair beside Kala’s bed. He was exhausted. His eyes stung and he had to squint to see the nurse that brought him a cup of coffee. His chest felt heavy. Right now both his daughters, his only children, lay on bio beds.

And only one of them was going to wake up.

With all the devastation on Trill, all the lives that had been lost, all the families that were in pain, he felt guilty that his daughter wasn’t one of those hit by the blast. It was a strange sensation, to feel guilty that Dhani hadn’t been hurt in the disaster. But it felt like the enormity of the crash took away his right to be in pain. So many others had lost their family, some; all their family, what’s his grief compared to theirs? He felt as if he had no right to cry, no right to shout and scream, no right to feel this enormous black hole that threatened to consume him whole.

He stared into the steam that rose in little puffs from the plastic cup in his hands and sighed.

His mind took him back to a place in time when he was happy. A place where the hot sun dried out the earth, turned it to sand and dust. Where emotions were considered things to rid oneself of, and logic was perused with vigour.

A place called Vulcan.

A time when he finally realised what life was about. A time when his joy overwhelmed him, and it seemed like nothing could ever change it. A time when he thought the stars had descended, and he could touch the heavens with his outstretched fingers.

A time when his Sun, Kerenza, gave birth to a Star, Dhanishta, and under a sliver sky Luna sent him Moonbeams, Chandrakala.

He was a proud father.

But then cloud nine began to fall, and his world was turned upside down.

~**~

Year 2355 May, Location: Vulcan

Another scream. A powerful gut wrenching scream.

Tanson threw the covers aside and jumped out of his bed. Kerenza sat up beside him, her face was pale and hollow. Without a word Tanson left the room. He ran to the door and out into the corridor, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor boards.

His heart pounded in his ears, he could feel the blood rushing to his face and his stomach knot and twist. He stood for all but a second outside his daughters room before pushing the door open and running in.

Kala sat upright in her bed. Her tiny hands clutching at her bed sheets. She quivered beneath them, “Mommy?” she whispered. Her head began to throb and as another scream tore through the room. She began to sob.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright sweetie. Everything is going to be alright.” His voice was low and comforting to the small girl. He leaned over and scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her out into the hall. All the while listening to the heart breaking screams.

“Kerenza!” he hollered.

Kerenzas ashen face appeared in the door way, her night gown was inside out as she had pulled it on hastily.

“Take Kala.” he passed the small child to his wife quickly. Worry lines etched across his face.

“Nishta! Nishta!” Kala cried over her mothers shoulder, her small hands reaching out for her other half.

Tanson pushed Kalas outstretched hands away as her mother carried her down the hall towards their room.

Tansons gut turned as the other screamed again, literally shaking the house. Opening the door fully he walked in and closed it behind him. He turned on the light and sighed heavily. His eyes welled up. He wanted to cry. Slowly he turned to watch his daughter writhe in pain. He walked slowly to his child’s side. Remembering how he used to run to her, hold her down and beg her to tell him what was wrong, not that she was able to. He used to hold her fitting form in his arms, stroke her hair till she calmed. But it never helped. Every night was the same. And he was at his wit’s end. He watched as she tore at the restraints. He stood, and watched. Helpless……

~**~

Night after endless night his beautiful daughter, his little girl, was consumed with terror. Her tiny form was wracked with fits, so severe he had to strap his sixteen month old to her bed.

His *sixteen month* old had to be bound.

Every night he heard his babies cry. Every night he carried out one screaming child and placed her in her mothers arms, and sat watching over the others fitting form. Unable to comfort her, unable to help her, unable to understand. Every night his heart broke just a little bit more.

Until at last he accepted what the doctors told him. His daughter was insane.

But the pain didn’t stop there, the guilt never ended as he wondered if it was his fault. Had he been a bad father? Was his daughters’ illness some genetic defect that he had passed down?

And still the torment didn’t end…

~**~

Year 2356, December, Location: Vulcan

“Hey Nishta, look at this.” Tanson said waving a plastic diamond shaped brick in the air. He tried to hide the trepidation in his voice. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the Institutes waiting room, he wondered if the decor of such places, white walls and hard back chairs, were aimed in a mellitus way to make the patient feel as uncomfortable as possible.

His three year old daughter looked up at him and grinned; her nose wrinkled as she smiled showing him her pearly white teeth. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders and her green eyes sparkled up at him. She took the object in a fierce grip and giggled, placing it in her mouth she crawled across the room.

Tanson sat in awe of his three year old. He couldn’t understand how it was possible for a bright, intelligent, happy child to be diagnosed as insane. He also couldn’t understand how this picture perfect normal child turned into a screaming mess at night.

At first the, other parents he knew, put it down to a tantrum. And he had agreed. But then Dhanishta had never been a disobedient or demanding child. She wanted for nothing, she never said a bad word about anything, never showed any sign of being anything other than a normal well adjusted child. She played with her sister in the sand dunes, she interacted with the other Vulcan children without any problems, she attended pre-school and her reports shined.

How could this mere three year old be insane?

How could this three year old turn into what he witnessed every night?

Why did this happen to his little girl?

“Dhanishta Eshe?” a young Vulcan woman called out breaking his train of thought. He looked up at her; she was dressed in green scrubs and held a clipboard in her hands, which her eyes barley moved from. He glanced across the room to his daughter and felt his stomach turn,

“That’s us.” he said standing up and brushing his uniform down.

She nodded, “Follow me please.” She turned without looking at him and led the way out of the waiting room.

Tanson had a lot of respect for Vulcans, he worked with them every day, but sometimes he wondered why they didn’t import another species to work in the hospitals. He could really use someone with a bedside manner right now.

Scooping up his little girl he followed the Vulcan.

Walking down the corridor to the psychiatric ward he felt a twinge of guilt. He and his wife Kerenza had tried in vain for two years to find an alternative to this. An alternative to leaving their daughter in a laboratory. This, after all, is what he was doing. No one knew what was wrong with his daughter. Even the Vulcan doctors who were renowned for their scientific minds were baffled. So this was the last resort. Leaving his baby here, alone, without anyone she knew, to be experimented upon until they could identify the reasons for her sudden change in temperament and behaviour, and maybe find a cure.

If there was any other way he would have taken it. If it meant giving up his life he would have done it. The bond between parent and child, the fierce feeling of protection, the unconditional love; was an overwhelming feeling. Nothing in his life had prepared him for fatherhood. Nothing he had ever read, or his own parents had told him had made him understand the blood bond.

Until now.

It was now he understood his parents worry for him and his siblings; that continued throughout their childhoods and into their adult lives. It was only now that he finally understood *his* parents. He remembered that for years he whished that they could have understood *him*. He never once thought how desperately they must have wanted to, until this moment; carrying his three year old down the corridors to an uncertain future he wished with every beet of his aching heart that he could understand *her*, that he could help her, that he could make everything better; as a parent *should* be able to do.

“Where are we going?” Dhanishta asked her father as she bounced in his arms with each step he took. Her legs were locked tightly around his abdomen and her arms clasped around his neck. She glanced up at the lights on the ceiling as they streamed passed in a continuous flow of colour.

Tanson choked slightly on his own words, “We are going to see a friend.” He replied.

“Why?” the little girl asked with a pure curiosity that only children possessed.

“Because he wants to meet you.” Tanson replied, unable to look into her eyes.

“I want to see Kala, Kala, Kala.” Dhanishta said her little hands clapping to the beat of her repetition.

Tanson smiled at Dhanishta. Her mannerisms always made him smile, she was just so cute.

“You will do soon honey.” He replied shifting her on his hip into a slightly more comfortable position.

“I want to see her now!” Dhanishta protested, her little nostrils flaring in defiance.

Tanson stroked her hair and smiled slightly, “Soon baby.” he coxed, “Soon.”

At the end of the corridor the Vulcan woman stopped and knocked on a door. Tanson felt his stomach lurch again as the door opened and she motioned him inside.

The room, like so many on Vulcan, was plain. Their architecture was un-inspirational to the Trill. It was precise, without flair and design. Sometimes he missed his home planet. Trill had so much history; in fact their culture was obsessed about it to a degree. Their art galleries were amazing, stimulating and uplifting. Trill was a strikingly beautiful place, truly breathtaking. Vulcan was stark in comparison. The endless deserts were hot and barren, devoid of anything except endless miles of sand and rough mountain ranges.

Stepping inside the room he felt a chill run through him. The shear plainness of the room was startling. Everything was designed for use, from the bio bed to the computers, even the desk seemed boring. The trolley contained instruments that he had never seen before. As a scientist himself he was curious, as a parent he was terrified!

“Good morning!” The doctor said spinning around on his ‘ease of use’ stool. There was not a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

“I am Doctor Sikes, specialising in psychiatrics.” He introduced himself.

Tanson nodded his acknowledgment and forced a smile of greeting.

“Tanson Eshe.” He said clutching his daughter tighter.

“This is Dhanishta I presume?” he asked as he slipped his hands into a pair of medical gloves. He raised one of his askew eyebrows at the small Trill child.

Tanson nodded.

“Put her down on the bed.” He said turning away from Tanson. He scanned through his instruments and picked several of them up, slipping some into his pocket he pulled up Miss Eshe’s chart on a datapadd and began to flip through it.

Tanson began to feel uneasy. And it seemed as if his daughter could feel his fear, she began to whimper as he sat her down on the bed. Her bright green eyes glistened as they welled with tears.

“You know the procedure?” Sikes asked looking up from the chart.

Again all Tanson could do was nod. Words escaped him.

“Very well, let us begin.” Sikes concluded putting the datapadd down. He turned back to the trolley and picked up a hypospray.

“There are restraints on the bed. It would be easier on the child if you strapped her down.” Sikes said plainly.

Tanson looked back at Dhanishta, he tried to hide the pain in his face from his little girl. He tried to push the feeling of utter dread away. He tried.

“Nishta, honey, lie down for daddy?” his voice was slightly hoarse as the lump stuck in his throat.

Dhanishtas trusting eyes looked up at him, “Why?” she asked. Her little face full of confusion.

“You’re going to have a little nap.” Tanson lied, “I’ll be here the whole time.” he lied again, “No one is going to hurt you, your perfectly safe here.” and again.

Dhanishtas’ face contoured. She heard the words. But she saw the truth. She always saw the truth. That was her curse.

Tanson forced a reassuring smile. Hard to do when you’re shitting a brick. Moving closer he gently pushed Dhanishta down on the bed. And began to fasten her wrists to the restraints.

“Daddy?” the small child questioned a tear slipping down her face.

Sikes took a step towards the bed.

Dhanishta felt his intentions…..

SCREAMS tore through the building. Everyone who had ears heard it, and all those who had ‘power of the mind’ felt it. She tried to move, tried to get away, she had to run.

Tanson tried to soothe her, he tried every word of comfort he knew. He stroked her hair and pleaded with her. Tears streaming down his face.

The child’s fear didn’t bother Sikes. He didn’t flinch as she girl writhed in the restraints. She was just another project to him, a mystery he had to find the answer to.

The struggle was fierce, the fear was immense.

Dhanishta continued to scream. Tanson held her hand and protested that everything was going to be okay, but as Sikes advanced and injected her with the hypo, Dhanishta broke the restrains, a mere three year old!

Objects began to levitate and fly round the room, crashing into the walls, the floor, everywhere. Several aimed at Tanson and Sikes. Both men ducked as they held the fitting child down. Sikes raised both eyebrows and looked at Tanson…

~**~

And still the endless nights continued. And the guilt increased as he had to help the doctors strap his daughter to a bed time and time again. Watched as they pumped her full of drugs, watched as her eyes changed when she realised the part he played. Watched as the most vital part of any relationship; trust, left her eyes. He lied to his baby, made her trust him, and then led her into that place of torment and pain, over and over again, for years.

His heart began to bleed.

And it never stopped.

“I think she’s waking up.” A voice broke into the memories.

“Dhani?” Tanson questioned, his heart leaping. He looked with hopeful expectant eyes.

The nurse cast him a curious, concerned look, “No, Chandrakala.”

Kala flinched as she woke up. Was that all a nightmare? Her parents telling her that they were turning off the machines that kept Dhani alive? Scanning the room she didn’t recognise where she was. Sitting up she looked at the guard by the door.

“Kala?”

She turned to the direction the voice came from, “Dad?” she whispered. It wasn’t a dream! Her chin began to wobble as tears welled in her eyes.

Tanson stood up. He was unbelievably tired. He perched on the side of Kala’s bed and took her hand, “I’m so sorry.” his voice was low and croaky. He hadn’t realised that he had been crying for a while. It just seemed as if he couldn’t stop. He wiped away a tear that rolled down his nose.

Kala looked at him and finally realised the pain he was in. She could feel his grief run as deep as her own.

“Daddy!” she cried out wrapping her arms around him. Her body shook with tears and her head vibrated on his chest as she buried into it.

Tanson was slightly shocked, he had expected another argument. For a moment he sat stilled by her embrace. And then his arms encircled her, holding Kala tightly, his own tears cascading down his face and into her mane of hair.

And that’s how they stayed, locked tightly in an embrace both shaking with tears, for a long time.

“Sins of the Mother”

Location: Trill, Leran Manev View Hospital, room 8, Intensive Care ward.

Primary Character; Kerenza Eshe

Also featuring, Tanson Eshe

Chandrakala Eshe

&

Dhanishta Eshe

“Daddy please!” Kala begged her tears dripping onto his shoulder. But he kept on pushing her towards the door. As her sister became a blur through the tears she screamed,

“Dhani! DHANI…”

Two security guards appeared behind her grabbing her arms and pulling her free from her fathers grip. They raised her from the floor, kicking and screaming.

As she felt a hypo push into her neck she concentrated with all her might,

~Dhani hold on, don’t go. If you die, I die. Do you hear me? Find your way back home, find your way back ho….~

The sedatives flowed into her blood stream and the last thing she saw as her body stilled was the door to her sisters’ room closing.

Tanson collapsed in the hallway. Covering his face with his hands he cried harder than he ever had in his life. A nurse rushed to his side, as another two ran down the hall with a stretcher and helped the security guards lift Kala onto it.

Kerenza stood in the middle of Dhanishtas room staring at the closed door.

Outside the commotion died down and she heard the footsteps as people moved away, heard Tanson crying by the door. She knew that he was crushed by this decision, and that he was in pain, so much pain. And she could do nothing to comfort him.

She felt nothing.

She felt like she didn’t know how.

Blinking several times to moisten her stinging eyes Kerenza finally let her gaze fall from the door and centre on the floor.

She felt…. She frowned; she really didn’t know how she felt. Was Kala mad at her? Did it really matter?

She had become so used to not feeling other peoples emotions, so much so she didn’t even recognise her own anymore. There was a time when she could feel everyone, their thoughts, their dreams… everything. She had the power, so much power.

She could take every one of these pathetic little nurses and crush them all with a single thought.

She could have forced her way into her daughters mind and retrieved her kicking and screaming, if that was the way it had to be.

She could have saved her.

Save Kala from the pain of losing her sister.

Save Tanson the pain of losing a daughter.

But not anymore.

If she had known all those years ago that this was the price for what she had done… to lose her child, she would have…

She cast an eye back to the girl she was…

~**~

An ear splitting scream ripped through the silent night.

In the stillness she sat. Watching her victim, feeling everything he felt.

The feeling of something, so much bigger than him; it pulled and tugged, crushed and tore through his mind. All he could feel was the pain and the fear. There was nothing else.

As his pain increased her heart began to beat faster. The rush that this moment gave her was immense.

All hope had been taken, by something so much stronger.

She could feel the despair now, and the utter worthlessness, the humility. And she kept going, tearing through his mind with ease. Making him feel everything that she had felt. Making him pay for all that he had done.

There was no purpose left now. There was nothing to live for.

She felt the joy as he relinquished, the relief he felt when he let go. And then the sadness as everything slipped away and the world went dark.

Something smiled in that darkness. She smiled in that darkness. Her goal had been achieved and now she was happy. Happy that she had taken his life. The utter simplicity of it. She hadn’t even broken a sweat, never lifted a finger. Didn’t even enter his apartment.

And now he lay dead.

And her head spun with the euphoric sensation as all that power was usurped and sucked into her centre.

With every life she took she became more deadly.

~**~

Kerenza shook her head. The girl she was wouldn’t have cared that her own daughter might die as a result of her actions.

Did that mean she didn’t care now?

Slowly she turned and crept to her daughters’ bed. Almost on tiptoes, so silently, as if she didn’t want to disturb her, as if she could wake her with the sound her feet made as she crossed the room.

Hell, she could come in here with a marching band, smashing saucepans together and still Dhani wouldn’t wake up.

Maybe she should just take the pillow that her empty head lay on, and suffocate her with it. End this pathetic excuse for life.

Maybe she should shake her and scream at her to wake up and end her families suffering.

Maybe she should hold her broken daughters body and cry like a whimpering child over it, over something she could never make right, something that was all her fault, something that she could never forgive herself for.

Was that what she was supposed to do?

Would someone tell her?

Would someone come rushing in through that door and tell her how she was supposed to react to her daughters’ death?

NOW?

PLEASE?

Looking down Kerenza realised that her hands were clasped around the railing at the end of the bed, her knuckles whitening as she gripped harder and harder. Her jaw set firmly and her teeth clenched.

Was this anger she felt?

The heat ran through her body, her insides churned as if she had eaten a really bad curry and her arms began to shake as her fists tightened around the railings.

Was this what *their* families felt when she killed their loved ones?

She had never thought about the families of her victims before. It all happened so many years ago. She was a different person back then. Back then, when she had power. Back then, when she had a heritage. Back then, when she had a name that was known all throughout Betazed. Back then, when she had a family, parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, generations upon generations to call her own.

Did they feel this when she died? Did they even cry when her empty casket was laid to rest in the gardens of Betazed? Did they know of the terrible things she had done? Did they even care?

She hadn’t.

Did that mean she shouldn’t now?

What did it matter if she did care? There was nothing she could do to change what she had done.

Her eyes narrowed on the sheets that covered Dhanishtas’ body.

Was this her punishment?

To watch her first born slip away into oblivion? To stand their, helpless, as her babies body failed organ by organ? To watch her body wither and die?

Not even she had been this cruel.

What exactly had her daughter done to deserve this fate?

Dhanishta was intelligent, though not anymore; now she was a vegetable. She was an exemplarily student of the ‘power of the mind’, excelled way past her experienced 200 year old Vulcan tutor, although she showed this talent by burying herself so deep with in her own psyci that she comatose herself.

Kerenza let go of the railing and rubbed her aching hands together, letting the blood flow through them.

Dhanishta was a warrior, accepted into many reputable Klingon Houses, but now she wouldn’t even be accepted into Stovokor. She was accepted to be a host, the first ever Trill hybrid to be accepted for joining; the vast amounts of knowledge that the Trill society would gather form this joining was immense, although, not anymore, Trill was going to lose out and so was her daughter.

Kerenza stepped forward, her eyes staying fixed on the white sheets.

Dhanishta was a Starfleet officer, served on one of the most historic ships of the fleet, although now she was incapable of standing to attention. She was an exceptional engineer, although now, she was incapable of fixing a light bulb let alone anything else. She was a hero, although now, she couldn’t save herself, let alone anyone else.

Kerenzas eyes glanced upwards towards her daughters face.

Dhanishta was beautiful, although now… Absently Kerenzas hand reached out and touched her daughters face; her once rosy cheeks were now tinted yellow. She ran her fingertips through Dhanis hair; once dark, sleek and shiny, now was full of split ends, lifeless and dead looking. Her thumb brushed over Dhanis eyes: once bright green and full of life were now dark and sullen, black rings surrounded them and her skin sagged. Kerenza leaned down and kissed her daughters lips, once cherry red, but now they were turning blue from the lack of oxygen.

Pulling away, a tear splashed onto Dhanishtas face, followed by another and another.

Kerenza sat ever so gently on the bed. Her hand reached up the sheets sliding against the smooth cotton, until her finger tips reached Dhanis. Lifting her daughters limp hand she placed it in her own and shuffled closer.

“If I could take back all the truly awful things I’ve done, I would. If it meant that you would live, I would walk off a cliff.” Her voice was soft, a whisper.

“If I could live my life over, I would tell you that I love you, every day of your existence.” her voice began to waver.

“I would tell you how proud I am of you.” her voice broke and she began to cry harder.

“I would tell you that you are truly amazing.” her voice rose as she tried to combat the sobs.

“I would tell you that you are beautiful… that you are everything to me… you are my life Dhanishta…. you are my daughter and…. And…. I love you so much.”

Leaning forward she slipped her arms around Dhani and pulled her up into her arms.

“Dhani…” her voice gave up as the fit of tears consumed her. She shook as she held Dhanis body tighter and tighter.

“You’re my little girl.” She half screamed, “You’re my baby… I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!” she rocked back and forth, cradling Dhanishta, repeating her words over and over, shouting them until her throat hurt, sobbing all the while, until her voice was hoarse and barley audible, and still she whispered,

“I love you.”

"family bonds III"

by Turan Trelar, Quentite

"Ambassador" Meena - old age Trill woman

The view Turan's eyes caught when he turned around the corner was virtually overwhelming. There were hundreds or even thousands of small equal looking tents arranged around a square of much larger shacks.

This wasn't just a refugee camp. On Quentin, there weren't many cities bigger than this one build of fabric und metal struts..

Turan glanced at the elderly Trill woman laying on the zero-g-carrier in front of him.. Meena as the woman announced herself minutes ago was still unconscious. The giant Quentite continued his way pushing the carrier towards the camp's main entrance. A man wearing the uniform of a Starfleet medical approached, scanned her with an electronic gadget for several seconds and finally wrote a large 'C' on the back of her left hand.

"Move her over to the observation shack" the doctor ordered "third line on the left side, second row. The colleagues over there will care for her."

Turan did as ordered. In front of the designated shack, he was stopped by an other checkpoint. The medical standing there didn't waste much time in examining Meena again. With a "sometimes I hate my job"-impression on his face he looked at the letter written on the back of her hand, then called for an assistant who wasn't even wearing medical clothes. They laid her on a stretcher and carried her into the shack.

Turan tried to follow them but was stopped at the shacks entrance by an other man - obviously a guard. Nevertheless he was able to gain a look inside the building. What he saw wasn't what he expected to see. The shack was full of bodies lying on stretchers side by side. Occasionally one of the patients whimpered or groaned, Most others didn't even move. There wasn't any doctor looking after them or treating them. There weren't any medical instruments. The whole shack rather looked like a boy scout camp's dormitory than like a hospital. It seemed as if patients with an C weren't even scheduled for treatment.

Turan sat down on the zero-g-sled. For the first time after many hours of work he allowed himself a rest.

"When am I going to learn to shut my big mouth?"

Lt JG Claire Barnes, Security/Hazard Team

Walking into one of down-market bars, Claire cracked her knuckles. Unfortunatly, it didn't look like any bar brawls would happen in the next few hours. Although she knew that hunting for a brawl wasn't really something a Starfleet officer should do, but she was bored and they just happened sometimes.

Heading over to the bar, she ordered a lemon-lime mineral water and made her way over to an empty table at the back. Watching a quite excited and probably drunk group of Tellarites who were imbibing even more on the way to what she suspected would be very large hangovers, most likely because they were stuck on Trill, she grinned.

There were many times when she had drunk herself under the table and had been glad that the sole time she really lost it back at the Academy & had been dancing topless on a table didn't get her booted at worst or reprimanded.

It didn't take long before her keen and ever cautious Security-training led her to notice a possible disturbance. Over in one corner, a bunch of senior officers were drinking and seemed to have taken offense at the Tellarites. One of them seemed to be communicating over a combadge and after a few moments, they got up. A security team also arrived at the door, and Claire put her drink down.

Moving over to the Tellarites, the senior guy spoke up loud enough for her to pick it up, "You, Tellarites. You are making a public disturbance and will have to leave now. Trill doesn't need that."

The Tellarites obviously didn't want to, and seemed to be quite angry but she couldn't understand their language nor would it be translated this far away. The senior man shrugged and said, "In that case, you are all under arrest."

The security team came forwards when there was a scuffle and Claire didn't like this abuse of power. Standing, she walked over to where the Security team was grabbing the Tellarites, where she noted the highest officer was a Commander who had been the man to approach them, "Excuse me, but I was watching all of this. The Tellarites may have been a bit noisy, but there was no reason for them to be arrested."

He turned to her and spotted her pips, "Mind your own business, Lieutenant."

"Sir, respectfully, this is an abuse of power."

"They are just drunken Tellarites. Always like that."

"That is not true, and very racist. As a witness, I feel compelled to mention that and to the Security office."

"Lt, I will say this once. Go away and forget this happened."

"Under Starfleet regulations, there is nothing about breaking someone's civil rights for being drunk. Sir."

He was getting mad now, but she couldn't back down, "Shut up bitch ,and get lost."

"Commander, regulations force me to report this incident. And if you are going to be such an asshole and deny it, I have no choice."

He growled, "THAT'S GROSS INSUBBORDINATION, LT! Place her under arrest and brig her."

Claire struggled as the officer grabbed her, and she snapped, lashing out verbally, "YOU WANT GROSS INSUBORDINATION, I'LL GIVE YOU GROSS INSUBORDINATION, YOU SACK OF MONKEY TURD!!!"

At that point, the security team dragged her away quick before she could dig a deeper hole.

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

Later after she was cooling down in the cell, Claire really wished she had shut her mouth and waited for someone from the Galaxy to turn up. The brig officer had told her that there probably would be a reprimand, and that her ship had been told to come collect her before she mouthed off to an admiral or something.

"The More Things Change…"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Intelligence Officer

Family.

It is the first alliance you're bound to when you're born. If you're 'lucky', it is also the grieving farewell party when you're perish. And in between, it is a major pain in the rear.

Most of them times, I seriously consider not establishing a family, ever. Not only that having other people depend on you is hindering, it is also unfair toward the newborns.

You see, like I found out the hard way, once you're born, you can't escape your family name forever. Especially if it is 'Bental'.

* * *

The sign on the building said ' Mex and Xin's Shuriburi', in vivid red letters on a purple background resembling the hue and texture of Trill's oceans.

Through the semi-transparent walls, Saul could see that almost every table was taken by Trill dinners. Saul's table in the corner remained empty, as it was reserved for one 'Dag Nahash', one of Saul's false identities. 'Dag Nahash' was a marine biologist, with platinum hair and a slight limp. It's amazing how just a few changes in body language and external appearance could make you totally unrecognizable.

He entered the restaurant, exchanged a few words and a wink with the hostess, and took his place.

It was lucky that Saia knew this Red-fish restaurant, since the main audience seemed to be upper-class Trills. During the five minutes between sitting down and receiving a copy of the menu, Saul found out that the two men sitting next to him were in the software business, and that their company was fortunately working on some 3D holographic GIS software which the Trill government now desperately needs to manage their relief efforts. Saul made a mental note to invest in that company.

The waitress, a stunningly beautiful Trill woman (as expected), handed him the menu and quickly gave him some recommendations for dishes that Humans are known to like. Saul asked for a dish called 'Manev Metexi', which was not very different from the Japanese Sushi.

Then, he drew a PADD from an inner pocket in his Corduroy jacket, and began the real work.

* * * *

At the exact same time, two men made their way through the kitchen of Mex and Xin's, and entered a side corridor which abruptly ended in a flight of stairs.

The stairs took them three stories beneath the ground. If one was watching, he could see that the man in the front was obviously leading the pair, whereas the man in the back was following closely, looking sideways like someone who is visiting the place for the first time.

The man in the front was probably in his forties. He looked respected and stern. He had very light brown hair, very sparse near the forehead. He also had a long, broken nose which resembled anti-Semitic caricatures of long nosed Jews from the mid twentieth centuries. One of his eyes constantly shifted to the left, whereas the other was focused dead ahead. He was wearing a Caramel-colored business suit.

The other was either his son or closely related to him. He still had all his hair, and was slightly taller.

Their names were Joop and Aaron, and as one could've guessed, they were loosely related to one, Saul Bental. The same one that was now watching them, through a small, mobile camera, disguised as a local insect. Saul wasn't misusing any Starfleet equipment for this one. He purchased the equipment in the local market, and modified it using schematics he asked from the Galaxy Intel. Technical officer, Boris Shtazai. It wasn't state of the art, but it was good enough.

The two conversed quietly in Dutch, and Saul didn't get most of the words. It wasn't too bad since he was recording the conversation with the 'bug'.

Eventually, Joop and Aaron reached the bottom of the stairs, and entered a door after Joop's retina was scanned by a small scanner fixed to the wall. A small 'insect' followed them before the door closed again.

The inside was a small, clean warehouse. There was a single source of dim artificial light, located just above a round wooden table. There were people near the entrance, but they were just insignificant guards. The significant people sat by the table.

There were three of them, all which Saul identified. There was Janny, his cousin, which invited him to this meeting. There were also Hubert and Hugo, two short, mustached men with beady rat-like eyes.

"Hag Sameah.", Joop greeted, and took an empty chair. There were two other empty chairs, one that Aaron sat on, and the other which remained vacant. Aaron sent a wandering glance at the woman sitting at the head of the table.

"It's waiting for a special guest.", Said Janny Bental.

She was probably the best looking Bental of the current generation, an exotic breed of Bolian and Human. Unlike Saul's whose Bolian heritage isn't visible, and its only consequence is the fact that he constantly has to consume a certain medication, Janny was obviously more Bolian than Human. Her skin was blue, and while her facial ridge was less prominent than the average Bolian's, it was still there.

Her blonde hair, which attracted so many men like a honey trap, was tied in a braid.

"Who is the guest, Elijah the prophet?", Aaron tried to make a joke, but won an angered glare from his father. Joop

"Actually, he's already with us.", Said Janny, smiling. She then turned and looked straight at the 'insect'.

Three stories above, Saul Bental said 'Fuck!' audibly, just as the waitress brought him the Manev Metexi.

"…The More They Stay The Same"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Intelligence Officer

One probably wonders how Saul knew where the meeting took place.

Actually, it's not that difficult once you know how things work in the complex organization called 'The Bental Mercantile Corp'. Since it's a family-based corporation, many of its codenames is based on famous events in the history of the family. For example, meetings take place in places that match old family stories according to the time of the year.

For example, suppose you wanted to set a meeting at Trill near Passover, right? The most famous story that went down the Bental family and took place during the month of Passover was the story of Shmuel and the red fish. The story is rather silly, and involves a Seder meal at a restaurant owned by a Bental, and two kids which though that using artificial red dye on the Gefilte Fish would be really funny.

The bottom line is, when a Bental wanted to set up a meeting with other members of the family during the month of Passover, he or she didn't need to name a location. It was obvious that it will take place in the most famous Red Fish restaurant in the city or the area of the meeting, in memory of the story. That way, only someone who was from the expanded family could know where exactly the meeting will take place, and the meeting could be held without any unwanted ears.

Saul was reflecting about the story of Shmuel and the red fish when he felt something pressed against his back. "Shaul, could you please come along?"

Saul didn't even bother to turn. "You're not going to shoot me in the middle of a full restaurant. Tell Janny I'm not interested."

"Oh.", The voice said, "It will look like you're a Human who ate something that his stomach wasn't built to digest. What a tragedy. Got to love Caitian Arsenic."

"Screw you and screw that blue-faced Zona.", Saul cursed. He stood with a smile, shoving one last mouthful of red fish coated with algee into his mouth, and paid a reasonable amount of credits plus a generous tip before letting Hubert lead him toward the kitchen's door.

* * *

"Wasn't Saul buried dead somewhere?", Joop Bental shrugged his shoulders. "Frankly, with the REDISTRIBUTION by the end of the year, the less people knew about this, the better."

"Have a vision, Joop.", Janny sneered. She didn't like the 'middle generation', but Joop Bental was one of the richer members of the family, and probably the only one focused on real estate. She wasn't about to alienate him, and his son seemed easy enough to influence so it would be a long-term investment to maintain a good business relationship with him.

"Visions are for prophets.", Joop patronized, "I can't possibly see how this boy will promote our plans. He's probably a failure like his dead father, that's why he ran away from Utrecht."

"It doesn't hurt to have eyes and ears in Starfleet.", Said Hugo, toying with his beret hat.

"It does hurt for Starfleet to have eyes and ears here.", Joop countered, "During the last century, the Federation had little interest in our section of the rim, and that helped business flourish. We're backwater enough to ignore, and there are more problematic organizations, such as half of the Orion cartels."

"Let me just tell you this.", Janny said simply, "Did you heard what happened to Rosenthal on Bajor?"

"Did I HEAR?", Joop scowled, "I was one of his biggest investors. We had a shipment of Retamin and Romulan ale planned to the Bajoran system just three days after he was arrested by the militia. It was my worst loss in a decade."

"And do you know who was behind it?", Janny asked, her voice dripping with poisoned honey.

"Stront… why?"

At that exact moment, Hubert and Saul entered, and both took their seats. Saul folded his arms, then rested his legs on the table. He mindlessly picked up a Passover cookie from the bowl on the table and began to chew it.

"Guys, it was very sweet of you to invite me, but I don't really have anything to contribute.", He said.

"Actually you do, Saul. You've been away for too long. Uncle Joop here thought you were dead."

Saul lazily shifted his head toward Joop and Aaron. "Just because he's my grandfather's nephew, I'm not going to 'uncle' him. Real Estate is kak."

Joop's knuckled turned white, but he said nothing.

"Saul, it's very simple.", Said Janny again, beaming at him, "In the end of the year, there's going to be a REDISTRIBUTION. Eventually, every one will have to take sides or they're not going to get any piece of the pie."

Saul rocked the chair slightly. "I don't need any piece of the pie. Starfleet provides me with pies on a daily basis."

"Your mother might lose the shop this years. She loaned money from Devoss, I think, and she wasn't able to pay it back."

"So she'll lose it. She can go to work as a history teacher or something, I'm not concerned."

"What a loving son.", Hugo commented.

"I'm offering you to join us.", Janny continued, "Your mother aside, I know you're itching to get back to the game. Don't pretend to fool me, Saul Bental, I've known you since you were THIS little, and you're greedy like the rest of the people in the room. Otherwise, you wouldn't mess with Rosenthal, or invest in that Latinum mining company."

Saul sighed. Another false identity just found its way to the garbage can. Two, if counting 'Dag Nahash'.

"Well, if I ever really feel greedy, I'll just take over the family business myself without your assistance.", Saul grinned.

Someone laughed. It was a rusty, broken laugh, the kind of laugh you'd expect from someone who should get the hint and quit smoking already. "You?!", Aaron said gleefully, "You're like the smallest fish! If we were the royal family of Holland, you'd be the bastard son of the adopted half nephew of the court Jester!"

"Sorry, that was too complex for me to follow.", Saul rolled his eyes.

"My point IS.", Janny put emphasize on every word, "That either you join with us, or one of the less nice parties is going to try and bring you to their side. And by less nice you know who I mean."

Saul knew exactly who she meant. Almost every merchant in the Bental family had his or her hands in dubious business. Be it smuggling, trading illegal goods, dancing in the gray areas of local trade laws, and so on. Some of them were less gentle about it than the others, and some were outright criminals.

"Suppose I accept.", Saul said, "What then? I don't have any time or resources to contribute, and I will not divulge any classified information from Starfleet. I'd say I'm quite worthless."

"Oh, I would never ask you that!", Janny protested, "All I ask is that you share what little resources you may have, drop a tip or two once in a while, and support us when the time comes. You can't lose anything, and you have a little to earn."

Saul removed his feet from the table, and then stood up. "The offer is tempting, Janny, but I'm really out of the game. What I did to Rosenthal was because I was pissed that someone who's working for my own family could take advantage in such a nasty way of those poor, ignorant people. I don't really have anything to contribute."

"What Rosenthal did is taking advantage of a business opportunity. I know you better than that, Saul.", Janny replied.

"No, you don't. I will leave now."

"OK, but we'll be in touch. Hag Sameah."

"Hag."

And with that, Saul Bental headed for the door. The guards were about to block his way, but Janny gestured them to leave. She smiled at the rest of the people in the room.

"That was smooth.", Said Hugo.

"Why did you let him leave?", His brother, Hubert, inquired. "Won't he call the local police?"

"On what basis? All we do here is legit.", Janny smiled broadly. "And this meeting was more important than you think. Let's just say that I planted a little metaphorical bomb in our dear relative's mind, and now we'll just wait for someone else to make it go off."

Joop scratched his chin. "I can see where you're heading. Yet, I still can't understand what's behind the actions of this boy. On the other hand, he says he doesn't want to participate in the REDISTRIBUTION or do business with us. On the other, the Rosenthal affair, the Latinum deal, and the fact that he bothered to show up here and spy on us."

"Let's just say that either he'll be on our side, or on nobody's side, and that was worth the fifteen minutes we've invested." Janny concluded. "Now, for the real reason of this meeting. Before we discuss Kurt's involvement in the Siave Shuni corporation, the First thing we should talk about is the medical equipment suppliers we want to invest in. Now, I suggest we purchase twenty percent of…"

* * *

Back in the streets of Leran Manev, Saul Bental could barely see where he was walking.

There was a REDISTRIBUTION by the end of the year.

Janny told him that on purpose, of course. He knew it and she knew it. It wasn't a slip of the tongue. She wanted to let him know. She's curious about how he will react. She's toying with him.

Just like she always toys with men.

Saul thought he had two or three more years before the next REDISTRIBUTION. It turned that he had a few months. If not for the recent turn of events on Ferenginar, he would've given up on his agenda and return to concentrate on his Starfleet career and love-life difficulties.

But there was still a chance.

His hands sank deeper into his pockets.

There was still a chance.

"...And Your Band of Merry Men, Part II"

Starring:

Col. J'Genthk Gessekensett, SFMC 188th TSS Btn. CO (SPC, MJ)
1Lt. T'Shani Akledorian, Furies CO

Also Starring:

MGSgt. Carl Johnson, Command NCO (APC, MJ)

With:

SSGt. Matthew St. Valentine, Aide de Campe (NPC, MJ)
TechSgt. Carol "Foehammer" Rowley, Blue Transport Pilot (NPC, Wil)
GSgt. Niklaas Furji, Red 1Sqd. Top-Kick (NPC, Wil)
Cpl. Dexter Grif, Alpha Red 2Sqd. CE/Demolitions (NPC, Wil)
Cpl. Richard "Dick" Simmons, Alpha Red 1Sqd. Heavy Weps (NPC, Wil)
Pvt. Franklin Donut, Bravo Red 1Sqd. Rifleman/Intel Spec. (NPC, Wil)

And the rest of the SFMC's 188th Furies Tactical Strike Specialists (TSS) Detachment!

== Deck 4: Main Shuttlebay Flight Deck ==

<Continued from "... And Your Band of Merry Men, Part I">

"Gunney, the Colonel's shuttle is on final approach, now. ETA, five minutes."

There was a small pause before Johnson replied. [Very good, Sergeant. Have the unit form up, I'm on my way down.]

"Aye, Gunney," Valentine replied before cutting the transmission.

Two of the original core "foursome" of the 232nd Joint Ranger/Marine strike unit stood around near one side of the hanger bay, watching Second Lieutenant Ward's "Blues" milling about and generally having fun. Gunney Niklaas Furji reached into a pocket of his Class-A's and pulled out a small cigar, which he was about to light up when suddenly Grif coughed, making the Bajoran look at the younger trooper.

"HOT BUTTERY LUGNUTS! What is it Grif?!" Furji shouted at Grif, who gave a weak grin.

"Um, Sir. You do know that you're not supposed to smoke on the hanger deck... or any other part of the ship right?" Grif said but before Furji could say anything the deck doors opened and Rowley, along with Simmons, escorted Donut in.

Donut looked rather... normal in his Class-A's with his intelligence markings. Then Furji noticed the P.O.W. badge on his uniform along with the other awards and citations. Even though that damned war was over, he still felt like an ass because Donut got left behind and not Grif. ~Oh, for the love of GOD, why couldn't Grif have *not* followed ORDERS JUST ONCE?!~

Rowley helped Simmons make sure that Donut got over to where the others were then nodding respectfully before doing an about-face and marching over to the rest of the Blue Team. Simmons let out a low whistle.

"Damn, Sarge. Why did we get stuck with Asaki while Ward's got Foe-Hammer?" Donut asked, turning to face his superior officer. "I mean, Foe-Hammer is a very nice lady and she's a killer to boot, she'd fit right in, true?" he finished.

Furji had to admit that Donut did have a point. Asaki was a temp replacement for Sergeant Kristina Kenobi who got injured in a joint services mission about six months ago.

Simmons was stroking his goatee thoughtfully while Donut and Grif were having a conversation about something involving Klingons and their tastes in music, which made Furji somewhat glad that he had people to talk to that were his own rank... kind of. He went over to where Foe-Hammer was standing, looking at the Delta Flyer class runabout.

Furji's kid brother Edon Furji was a Warrant Officer aboard the Voyager when she was first lost and now his kid brother was a full Lieutenant in Starfleet.

Foe-Hammer was talking to Second Lieutenant Greg Ward, one of the higher ups in the detachment that Furji could actually talk to, on-the-level.

"I don't care what those big-wigs at Command say, these Delta Flyers are still fugly shuttles, or runabouts, or whatever they want to call this thing.

"I mean, sure Admiral Paris' son helped to create this... thing, but it's still fugly none the less," Carol said as she adjusted her granite gray beret.

Greg was about to make a comment when he saw Furji standing there and gestured towards him with his head.

Carol turned and smiled at Furji as she nodded in turn to the senior grunt of the red team.

"So Sarge, you want to go for a couple of drinks after we get done looking all pretty for the CO's sake?" Carol asked.

Furji let a small smirk cross his lips as he replied with "I only drink the blood of my enemies...And occasionally a strawberry Yoohoo." which brought a few laughs from the three of them.

"Seriously though, I think I might be spending the rest of the night having to fill in the CO about the little in's -and-out's of having myself, Donut, Simmons *AND* Grif in the same unit as your kids, Greg.

"Oh, by the way. Did you know that you're little female friend in Roswell is back. O'Shea asked Simmons to do her a favor and make sure that she got the message, or something." Furji finished with a slight shrug, which brought a look that he'd never seen come over Ward's face: an actual smile.

That scared him, as Ward usually kept his facial expressions closely guarded and under control. For him to show something as simple as a smile usually meant that something big - like another war - was going to happen.

Furji noticed that Simmons needed help with Donut and, after quickly excusing himself, Furji went back over to where his three "favorite" people were standing.

"Hey Sarge, did you know that we're getting that Widdelstien kid as a junior Marine?" Simmons asked.

Furji simply sighed and then looked at his squad second and said, "Simmons, why don't you just write me a memo entitled 'Shit I already know' on it?!" Furji replied.

Simmons was about to reply to Gunney's comment, when Matt Valentine - 'Saint', as he was nicknamed, after his full last name - came on deck.

Staff Sergeant Matthew St. Valentine, formerly Hayes' Aide-de-Campe, moved to - what he surmised to be - the front of the assemblage of Marines on the Flight Deck. Though he didn't cut an impressive figure (he was tall, but very wiry, with rusty red hair and a light, freckled complexion), he was gifted with a sharp, unmistakable voice.

"Company, fall in!"

Though he kept his face as serious as possible, Valentine beamed inside as the men and women moved into Parade Review position. As always, the Marines executed the orders quickly and efficiently.

Just at that time, the sound of the heavy pressure doors opening caused Matt to turn his head to the side to see the Master Guns enter. Quickly, with time-honored practice and precision, he relinquished his position to Johnson, then fell into Parade Rest with the rest of the Furies.

Johnson walked quickly, a stiff military gait propelling him to the forefront of the assembled Marines. He cast a requesting glance to Lieutenant London, the acting CO, for permission to continue. Silently, Branwen nodded her assent.

"Listen up, apes!" Johnson's unmistakably clear and punctuating voice filled the void of pin-drop silence that had prevailed. Yelling at the top of his lungs, in true drill-sergeant fashion, Johnson continued.

"As the majority of you pea-shooters have figured out, somethin' big is goin' down today! Today, we have the fine distinction of proving, all over again, that we *are* the best! Can I get a 'Hu-rah', for that?!"

In drilled precision, the Marines answered, "HU-RAH, MASTER GUNS!!"

"Today," he shouted, "we have the mighty fine duty to prove that we're not just the best tactical unit on the mighty Starship Galaxy!" he stopped at one end of the parade, turned on his heel, and began pacing the other way.

"Today!" he shouted, a little louder, "we have the *honor* of proving that we are not only the finest in the entire 'hundred eighty-eight!" Again, he stopped, turned, and continued.

"TO-DAY!" he yelled, louder, "we have the *DUTY* to prove that we are not only the finest unit in the entire Beloved Corps!" He paused, doing his best to cover a creeping smile, as he saw the Marines begin to beam with pride.

"NO! Today, we have the *PRIVILEGE* of proving that we are the best fighting unit in God's Great Galaxy! Am I right, Marines?"

"OF COURSE YOU ARE, SIR!!"

"Damned straight I am!" He yelled back, grinning from ear to ear.

Silently, a flight deck technician walked up to Johnson, and handed a data padd to him, before retreating to one of the hangar stalls again.

~Here we go,~ Johnson thought as he read over the note that was handed him. The runabout Mekong was on landing approach. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the low, long form of a Danube-class runabout turn to enter the protective energy shield of Shuttlebay One's main hangar.

Looking over to Valentine, Johnson gave him 'the nod', to which Valentine crisply performed a left-hace, marched to stand beside the Master Guns, and yelled out, "ATEN-HUT!"

The precise clap of polished Marine boots thundered through the cavernous flight deck, as the Mekong hovered, rotated 90-degrees on it's lateral axis, and performed a hard-land on the tritanium deck.

A low hiss announced the lowering of the Mekong's main hatch. Valentine watched the hatch closely, waiting for the precise moment to...

"PRESENT-ARMS!"

The Furies crisply saluted.

"COLOR GUARD, PRESENT COLORS!"

The four-man color guard extended the colors of the United Federation of Planets, the SFMC, the 188th, and the Furies, as Colonel Gessekensett, followed by a tall, beautiful, and deadly-looking Andorian woman disembarked the Mekong...

"Loose Ends, Part 2"

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

And Various NPC's

Location: USS Galaxy-A

Three days after the 'Trill Incident', James found himself in a more relaxed mood.

The fight between himself and Zeke Wikkens took more out of him than the wind in his lungs. The doctors found that he had suffered cracked ribs, a dislocated vertebrae, a concussion that still rung in his ears whenever he moved suddenly, and various other aches, pulled muscles, bruises, and hurts that felt worse than the other injuries combined.

That combined with the strains of doing hours of humanitarian work (consisting of rubble relocation) should have made him a human wreck.

But that, combined with some groovy painkillers after he was healed, put James in uncommonly high spirits. He could reason that though there were thousands of deaths, traitors, and plenty of civil unrest and fighting going about, the Federation (and their ship in particular) actually did a pretty good job. Their mission was a success. James in particular caught the traitor, an Ensign Zeke Wikkens, with the help of his deputy Lt. T'lan. Sure, their success could have lightened his mood, but it really was the drugs. The other bad factors, such as a planetary capital being attacked, would have brought his spirits down.

But then there was Mika, his 'friend' on the surface. For that he was glad to have painkillers, but they were only effective as an escape. He felt there was no drug that would suppress his worries about her.

Speaking of spirits, James was beside one who would argue didn't feel any. Lt. T'lan flanked him, her arm in a blue sling. Phaser fire, cutting close to the heart and scorching flesh and bone near the breast and collarbone hit her. Her arm was slung to prevent movement from exasperating the healing process. For the most part she was ok, and though her Vulcan physique was as hearty as it was alluring, she too also needed a painkiller for her serious injury.

It was on their trip to the doctor that they meet in the halls, two comrades in arms reflecting on the past battle.

"How are you feeling?" James ventured to ask.

T'lan answered, "My injury is healing with satisfactory results."

"There's that." Corgan mused, "But there's still the matter of what happened the mission before. Are you still having the dreams."

T'lan's Vulcan calm was momentarily cracked. "I... still have them."

"You really ought to see Lt. Iniara about that." Corgan said.

"I will... eventually, sir. Though as traumatic as the memory may be, one could benefit from its experience." T'lan then looked piercingly at her chief, "Did you not learn from your encounter with the Borg?"

Corgan paused to think, then said with apprehension, "I would not be a security officer otherwise. Probably an engineer. And I would have been all the happier. I could have done without it, Lieutenant. Can we talk about something else? My meds are about to run out and I'm in a hell of a mood."

"As you wish, Commander." T'lan answered, "I will see Lieutenant Iniara immediately. You are... worried about my well being. I appreciate that."

T'lan added, "You are... protective towards others. It must be quite a burden at times. Have you heard any news about your friend?"

James turned dark, his voice seeping a gravelike chill. "No. She's still missing."

T'lan kept quiet as Corgan settled once more in a black mood. She waited a minute as they silently walked before speaking to him again, and this time she spoke as if walking through a minefield... very carefully.

T'lan added, "You are... protective towards others. It must be quite a burden at times. Have you heard any news about your friend?"

James turned dark, his voice seeping a gravelike chill. "No. She's still missing. You don't need to look after me like a mother hen. I'll be alright. Mika will turn up, and when she does I'll be right there to greet her. There's not much I can do now but wait... and tell you to take it easy. I'm starting to worry about you."

"Worry not, Commander. By Vulcan standards I am already an eccentric."

James looked at his friend with an apt shocked look to his face. "You don't say..."

"But I am." She reasoned unemotionally, but with a hint of what Vulcans would identify as mischief, "I derive satisfaction from watching bewilderment from emotional species, and I sometimes engage in activities that would spawn these reactions."

"A Vulcan sense of humour?"

"We have no humour. Only experiments." T'lan quipped.

"Oh well..." James shrugged, resigned to be the victim of T'lan's 'experiment', "We try to bewilder you Vulcans by twisting your logic. Turnabout's fair play."

"An illogical, but accurate statement."

"Amen to that.... Waitasecond... did you just try to distract me with small talk?"

T'lan and James was getting closer to sickbay. As they came closer, James felt there was something that he missed saying. It came to him as they were inches from sickbay's doors. He halted T'lan and prepared to speak.

"I never had the chance to thank you for the last couple of days." James said, "May I do so now?"

T'lan shook her head, "There is no need, Commander. I have no emotional need for gratitude."

"Nonesense, Lieutenant." James dismissed the idea, "You Vulcans derive gratification from a job well done. You don't need me to tell you that you did a good job these last few days. You saved my life, and put your own at risk in the apprehension of Ensign Wikkens. If anything, I need to get that off my chest." He extended his hand to T'lan, "Thank you very much. I appreciate all your efforts. You don't get enough credit for what you do."

Nonchalantly, T'lan shook James hand, "You are... welcome. And thank you for the compliment."

"See? Vulcans need praise like everyone else, and I should know, I rarely get any myself." Corgan joked, but then turned serious, "I could ask for no better of a security officer. I know my career is f**ked at this point, but if I by some miracle find a way to advance myself, I won't forget you. Someday I may need officers whom I can trust, who are smart and adaptable, who can be relied upon. I'd say that you are one of these people. So what do you say? If I move up and I find that I need some people to fill in positions, would you take it if I call you?"

Without pause, T'lan said, "In convenient and ideal circumstances, yes. I would appreciate this very much."

"Good. Now with that out of the way... I need some painkillers." James cheered, nodding his head.

T'lan winced as her arm snaked out to open the door, "As do I, but perhaps now is an ideal time to tell you..."

"Can it wait?" James hushed his Vulcan compatriot, "Me hurt. Me need happy pills."

"But I believe that you must know..."

Too late. James already opened the door.

Sickbay was still dealing with the wounded from Trill, which filled every hospital bed on the ship. Even so, when James, T'lan and Zeke were scraped from the shield generator room floors after their big fight, they had no problem receiving medical treatment. Trill was taking most of the casualties, so Galaxy was saved for medical operations and crews. It was still a busy, bustling place, but everyone seemed to be on the mend. There was an atmosphere that was electric with anxiousness, positive and excited as patients and medical staff chatted or went about their business.

There was an underlying current of discord, however, as many patients kept to glassy eyed stares and deep introspection. James knew that look, and people who witnessed tragedy possessed it. A good day wasn't going to quash a historic disaster like Leran Manev. James knew this too well.

His good mood was now quashed by a sombre shadow.

His body, however, was being quashed by the vicegrip of a single arm.

"JAMES!" quashed a shrill, excited female voice originating from a few inches from his ear.

With the ringing of his ear subsiding, James found the gumption to turn his head and see who ambushed him from behind. From what he saw and felt, he saw blurs of blue and white. Blue skin, white hair, and soft brown eyes. His mind was reeling from the sudden attack, only that it wasn't any attack he could fight back or comprehend. His ribs ached from the weight of the other body constricting him with a single arm and a... leg? He heard more talking from the mystery attacker, but couldn't understand partially due to the ringing in his ears (but mostly to his bewilderment).

He tried to manoeuvre, pivoting to catch a glimpse. When he did so, he had already been peppered by a half dozen kisses to both cheeks. Coming face to face brought his own to the brunt of the affectionate cavalcade.

"Mika?" James asked as he dodged her lips with tight head movements, "Ribs..."

"Jamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjamesjames...." She gibbered between kisses, pressing small blue lipstick stains all over James' face. Her tears flowed freely as little clear trickles. She clung tightly, switching from her passionate pecks to a boa constrictor's hug that strained James' aching body. She spoke in a rapid tempo that was almost impossible to keep up. "OhJamesitwashorribleIsawthewholething!" She gasped a hearty breath of air, "IwasinLeranManevwhenIcalledyouandallthesuddenIsaw... twostarsbuttheyweren'tstarstheywerestarshipsandtheyflewoverthecityatmachspeeds... andthenIwasinthepathofthefallingshipanditflewovermeandIwasbuffetedbyahuge... shockwaveandIwasflungaboutandIwaspeltedwithdebrisandIbrokemyarmand.... Guhhhh... blewoutmyeardrumsandthenIwastakentotheacampinthemiddleofthecityfor..... Oh my... medicalattentionandthentheytookmeuptheshipsotheycouldoperateonmyeardrums and reset the bones in my... left... arm...."

She squeezed James tighter, clinging to him, shivering and sobbing, "I missed you."

James could ignore the pain in his ribs for a short time. He answered back her hug with his arms around her back and shoulders. He felt a tiny tickle run down from his eye, through the canyon of the bridge of his nose, then down to the corner of his lips. He spoke with a voice that rasped, like it was holding back. "My god, Mika. I was so worried about you. I thought..."

"I'm ok James!" She piped up, wracked with sobs.

"Thank god... thank god." James basked in the undiluted joy, accepting Mika's embrace like it was his own. He felt the tension of the past few days melt away in that one moment, felt the intensity of emotions he couldn't quite understand. It was as if he was free of worry, like a watchdog relieved to see his mistress arrive home. His heart sang and beat, rattling his ribcage, a steady deep thump that contrasted with the rapid, manic beat of Mika's own heart. He felt her warmth, from his chest to his cheek as Mika nuzzled his shoulder, felt the silkiness of her snow white hair and the windswept movements of her antennae brush up against his head.

Impassively, T'lan bowed out minutes ago. Her job as messenger, as she logically suspected, was redundant and unneeded.

The couple looked eye to eye, with James breaking the moment. "I don't know how long you'll be visiting, so I promise to take some as much time as I can. I almost lost you again! We have so much to catch up on... I'll take as much time as it takes to do it, I swear."

Mika looked back at James, perplexed.

"Visiting?" She whispered?

Startled, James asked, "What are you saying?"

She awkwardly paused before starting, "I wanted it to be a surprise, James, but I'll tell you."

She stepped back, out of their comfortable embrace, her eyes looking down sheepishly on the floor. The excited, passionate Mika melted away, bringing her back to her gentle, diplomatic persona.

"James... I accepted a job on the Galaxy."

"Rouge Epilogue : The Rouge Merchant"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Intelligence Officer

Saul Bental suffered from the phenomenan known across Starfleet as BQK, or 'Bad Quarters Karma'.

For the second or third time since he came on board, his quarters were breached by an enemy weapon – this time, a phaser cannon from the USS DIIS – and all the furniture was sucked into the vacuum of space.

Again.

Saul was sitting on his temporarily assigned quarters down on Trill, examining the data he extracted from the Neural Jell-pack with the aid of Engineering's biosystems specialists.

He was placed by Cora as the Intelligence Officer in charge of the Akula crash followup, and he didn't intend to screw up. Starfleet Intelligence perhaps failed to predict the assault on Leran Manev, but they sure as hell will pursue and bring to justice each and every one of those behind it. Thomas was already behind bars, but some of his alleged men were still roaming freely across the Galaxy, namely Lt.Commander McCauley who was most likely to be Thomas' mole on the Akula.

Why would anyone agree to help Thomas? Saul wondered. What kind of twisted mind would agree to devastate an entire city, to wipe millennia of rich past, to have the blood of thousands on his hands, just to close a debt or to prove a point?

Whoever he or she was, their days were numbered.

When he was done with that, he proceeded to check on his Academic status. His fourth and final semester was about to end, leaving only the thesis work between him and a Masters degree in Federal Security and Political sciences from the Herzelia Interdisciplinary centre.

With recent events, he had tons of material to go through and homework to complete.

He did just that when the display above his head turned to life. He spun around, leaning his back on the cushion, and watched the newsflash.

"… relief efforts on Trill continue.", said the News reporter. As images from Trill filled the screen. Saul thought he identified the figure of Commander O'Shea in one of the shots. "In the last few days, dozens of Starfleet vessels including supply vessels and Medical ships warped into the Trill system, to land a hand to the thousands that remain wounded, roofless or buried beneath the rubble. Trill president Mrs. Lirisse Durghan told our reporter that…"

Saul rubbed his eyes. When he finish, the item on Trill was finally over.

"And to other news. After the recent sudden collapse of the central Stock Exchange on Ferenginar, the stocks slowly begin to climb at return to their previous values. The collapse was apparently caused by a wild rumor, that Ferenginar was about to suffer a suicide attack similar to that which hit Trill. Here with us is our economic analyst…"

Saul grinned broadly.

What he did with Grok was, in his not so humble opinion, brilliant.

First, he sold of his own shares in the Ferengi stock exchange, effectively severing his business ties with Grok.

Then, he hinted the Ferengi that Ferenginar might be the next target for the Galactic terror.

Of course, Grok did what every stock investor would do when getting such a hot tip from a 'reliable' source. He didn't take any chances, and sold all of his stocks, and let his family members and business partners know that they should do so as well (Only after selling, of course, otherwise he would lose Latinum!)

Soon, the rumor spread, and panic spread with it. With each sell of stock shares, the prices of the shares kept decreasing, until hitting rock bottom.

At that point, Saul invested all of his available credits in purchasing the stocks he previously sold at full price.

Soon, the Ferengi market began to recuperate, once Thomas was caught and it became obvious that no attack will take place. Saul's new shares' value increased by dozens of percents, some times hundreds. In fact, in a matter of less than a month, Saul's original fortune tripled, and then tripled again.

Indeed, Lieutenant Junior Grade Saul Bental had every reason to grin.

He just became a rich man.

"8-Ball In The Crocodile Pit For The Win"

Nara & 8-Ball With NPC, Saia

Nara and Saia walked down the corridor. Saia was quiet as she walked. Nara understood and continued to sickbay. She just needed to get this over with. She wasn't sure if Saia was fed lunch, and she was allowed some time to eat, but was too upset about the reprimand she couldn't eat much. She had to get something in Saia though, and then she needed sleep.

8-ball stepped out of sickbay and put a hand over her eyes. For the last couple of days she had been having headaches and they were driving her crazy. She had had worse ones before in her life, but they were after long nights of heavy drinking and therefore to be expected. These ones were new, and not entirely what she would consider to be a benefit to her life.

The docs said the headaches were probably caused by stress. 8-ball knew EXACTLY what they were caused by. The evil little minions of the Starfleet school system. If 8-ball didn't see another child, it would be too soon.which was too bad, because that was exactly where she was headed. Back to the monsters.

What she was not expecting to see was Nara, recently not-so dead girl, and another little monster. . .a Trill one. 8-ball blinked and literally felt herself pale. . .a new experience for her. What the HELL was a Trill kid doing here?

Nara saw 8-ball and suddenly realized how she must look. She was exhausted and sure she looked a mess. Nara gave a nervous smile to 8-ball and keeping in mind of Saia, made an inside joke she hoped 8-ball would get, but Saia would not, "Not much to hit on now, am I?"

Saia looked at Nara and rolled her eyes at the comment. So far these humans just talked a lot about stuff she didn't understand. Which was fine. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what they said anyway. But Saia had an idea what that phrase meant. Her mother and father used the phrase when they told about how they first met. Saia wasn't sure why she said it to another female. She looked at the other person before her. She looked different. Maybe she was one of the other Federation species? She looked sick though, "Neither is she."

Nara looked down at Saia surprised. "You know, maybe I should go back to not talking. You seem to do that enough for both of us." Nara winked at her smiling.

8-ball raised an eyebrow. "You could never not look beautiful," 8-ball said dryly to Nara. "I would always want to hit on you, wherever you were or however you looked, as long as you weren't dead or something. Speaking of which, it's nice to see that you're not dead, you know. I was starting to wonder if all the girls I hit on ended up dying in battle or something." Then, because 8-ball figured she couldn't ignore the little Trill girl for ever, she said, "So, who's the little one?"

Nara blushed. She wasn't attracted to women in "that" way, but it was a compliment nonetheless.

Saia looked at the other woman again. She wasn't sure what they were going to do now. Nara just said she wanted her to be checked by a doctor. They were in a medical tent for weeks! Why did she have to see a doctor now? But adults had a way of wanting to talk to every person they came across.

Saia was suddenly hit by the memory of her parents and how they would had been alive now had they NOT stopped and talked. Her mouth quivered as she looked down trying not to cry.

Nara had looked up, missing the emotion hitting Saia, and put a hand on her shoulder, "This is Saia. She lost her parents in the crash, so she's staying with me until they can make other arrangements." There was a hint of sadness in Nara's voice, but she spoke casually.

~Dear Jesus God in Freaking Heaven~ 8-ball swore in her mind. What was this, God's idea of a spectacularly poignant cosmic joke? First orphan Trill children left in her care, then dead orphaned Trill child in her arms, then a hoard of little Starfleet children making her work, and now ANOTHER little orphan Trill child running around? Had she killed a bunch of kids in a past life or something? How was this possibly happening to her again?

"I'm sorry for your loss," 8-ball said to Saia, knowing perfectly well how completely inadequate those words were. She then started to wonder how quickly she could get out of here without seeming totally rude. This wasn't something 8-ball would normally sweat, but she was trying to grow here. Or pretend she was.

Saia looked at 8-ball. Her eyes were watery, but her face turned to something. It was the look of child knowing when they met someone who didn't like kids. They can sense these things. Some tormented the poor soul. Saia was one who just whatevered it and didn't really care. She'd leave them alone as long as they left her alone.

"So," 8-ball said, "I'm sorry to bump in and run, but I have to get to this school thing---I'm helping out at the education for the kids here, and I'm already running late, so---"

Nara smiled, "Saia will be there tomorrow!"

Saia looked at Nara and then at 8-Ball. It was fine when they were passed in the hall, but to spend school hours with someone who didn't like kids? Saia had been babysat by neighbors who didn't like kids. Those people are boring.

8-ball felt a little ill. Of course, the Trill child would be there tomorrow. What possible more torment could be thrown upon her?

"That's nice," 8-ball said with what she hoped was a sincere-looking smile. "I look forward to seeing you."

She'd look more forward to being eaten by sixteen ravenous crocodiles, but 8-ball could hardly say that. That wasn't considered nice, after all. Besides, it wasn't Saia's fault that she was an orphaned Trill. You don't really get to pick things like that.

Saia was too young to care about diplomatics and did not smile. Nara smiled and waved at her as she put a hand on Saia's shoulder to lead her into sickbay. Saia walked in and frowned. She wondered if she would ever get used to all the black suits everyone wore. The place definitely needed more color.

8-ball put a hand to her head and walked quickly away from Sickbay. She was definitely not looking forward to tomorrow. School, children, Saia.

Maybe that crocodile would come after all.

"Special Talents"

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Branwen had been avoiding Saul for a long time now. And to be honest it was driving her crazy. So, after another bad night tossing and turning she decided it was time to talk to him. He had been hiding down on the planet, so she took a shuttle down to try and find him.

It took her over two hours to finally locate him. When she did Branwen entered the room he was working in and quietly watched him work.

Saul Bental wasn't proficient in healing. He was far from muscular, and couldn't lift a heavy boulder if his life - or the life of someone buried beneath that boulder -depended on it. He couldn't fix a leaking conduit, and he certainly couldn't babysit, say, a couple of orphans without getting, say, one of them killed.

But boy, could he coordinate.

"No, 426, you will take route seven instead. It's the clearest road, and besides 19 is already working on the Galleria Melanda. They have better suited equipment. Yea, sure thing. I'll take care of that. Yes. Yes. Shalom."

In front of Saul, one of twenty displays flickered and the insignia of Starfleet appeared. Other than him, there were three other people in the small rag-tag operations center. One of them was a Bolian in Starfleet uniform, the two others were Trills from the local rescue teams. Saul was obviously working the hardest, and so he didn't even notice that she was there - unlike one of his comrades.

"Oh, hello there marine, come sit with us!", Said the Bolian, with a teasing smile. Saul turned his head around, and the expression on his face was unreadable.

"Hey Branwen...", He said quietly.

“I was worried about you." She replied softly. "Can we talk privately?"

"Could you...", Saul began, but the Bolian already sled into Saul's chair. Saul gently put a hand on Branwen's sholder, leading her out of the room.

Outside, it was sunny. The room was part of a make-shift building set up by the relief troops, one of many control centers set across the city. It was set next to a stadium, which cast long shadows on the broad pavement.

Saul took a moment to adjust his eyes to the sunlight, then smiled sheepishly at Branwen. "I'm sorry if I made you worried... I thought about you during recent events, but everything was so intense I didn't even think of contacting you... would you accept an apology?"

"Sure. I didn't know how to approach you, I thought you would be grieving for Nara. You loved her, right, not me." She looked at the ground.

"Don't say that!", Saul said sharply. He didn't know if Bran knew that Nara was actually OK.

"It's obvious. I could see it in her eyes. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would you like me to say? That I'm fond of both of you, and still I'm not sure about none of you? That I know I'm a jerk, that I know that by avoiding both you and Nara I'm just making things worse?"

Saul turned his head to gaze at the stadium. The architecture, like many other structures on Leran Manev, was quite impressive and dwarved the images of the Colloseum of Rome or the Amphihall of Betazed he once saw.

"One of the first lessons you learn in business - and in life - is not to say anything that will only make things worse. And that's why I didn't say any of those things."

"But not saying anything makes things even worse. Now both of us don't know who you will choose. Do you think that is fair?" She was not angry. "I would not have shown my interest if I had known in the first place. Maybe you should be with Nara. She was here first."

"I don't care 'Who was here first', Bran. It's not a game. At least I don't regard it as a game. I..."

Saul paused to think, mindlessly knocking on his teeth with his knuckles. His eyes met Branwen's eyes again, those warm brown eyes he first saw on the frightened face of a young girl being intimidated by her own father.

"You don't deserve this treatment, and neither do Nara, even though she has been far less clear on her feelings... and even now I'm not sure what she makes of me."

"She loves you. And so do I. But I don't want to see her hurt. I am used to hardship." She looked at him bravely.

"Branwen, I would rather shoot myself with an Ion pulse pistol than see either you Nara hurt. I have no idea how we got into this... situation… probably a special talent of mine.", Saul sighed. "It just that all I can think of now is how to make things less complicated for a while, after all that happened here on Trill and on the way. I wish I could just stop time, take a month off and then get back. Actually, come to think of it, helping here on Trill IS my way of taking a vacation from the Galaxy.", He added with a grin.

"We could use you back on the ship for the talent show. Miramon and I have been trying to figure out what to do. We could use a third party."

Saul's instinctive response was a 'No way!'. But then he held the resistance deep within his stomach. Why shouldn't he do something light and fun for a change? It can't hurt. The worse that can happen is him making a fool of himself, and then months of constant mocking from Nyoko and Seren.

"I'm game.", He said, smirking. "What are you planning to do? I know how to play a guitar - lousily - and I can sing - even more lousily... other than that, I know card tricks!"

“I think we were planning to sing. So we can make it a trio.” why was he so cute.

"All right.", Saul straightened up, "Contact me when you plan to rehearse, and I'll come on board for it. When is the talent show?"

"In a few days time. So we have to start rehearsing." She said.

"We'll have no competition, Branwen London.", Saul grinned nastily, rubbing his hands together, "The crowd is going to go so wild the noise'll mess with the internal dampeners!"

She laughed. He was so funny. "Saul, we have to figure this out. We have to, the three of us."

"Me, you and Miramon? Ah, don't worry, as long as you keep my microphone on mute..."

"You know what I mean. You me and Nara."

"I know that's what you meant...", Saul said, the sheepish, almost apologetic smile returning to his face. "Just give me a little more time. As strange as it may sound, being away from the Galaxy and deep in the disaster zone for a while will help me get my head straight. OK?"

"Okay." She said gently. "Just don't take too much time."

"Healthy Except For The Attitude"

Klaus & Nara with Saia (APC)

Nara walked into Sickbay, wondering is Klaus was working tonight. She had spent about 15 minutes with him earlier, and she wondered if she had failed to mention Saia to him. She was too busy apologizing for lying.

The Doctor looked out of his office; he was pulling on his new Jacket.

"Ah, Nara, you've returned. Have you seen the new Class-A uniforms yet? Well, They're not really new, I just never noticed the choice before."

Klaus walked out to meet his friend, the chest flap hanging loose. "Anything I can help you with?"

Nara smiled, "It suits you." She looked down at Saia. She wasn't sure she mentioned Saia or not, "Well, I have to apologize again for possibly not telling you something else. Especially after spending some time just chatting earlier. I brought Saia back with me from Trill. She was orphaned."

Saia looked up at Nara showing annoyance. She was tired of being introduced that way.

Nara didn't pay attention to the look and continued looking at Saul, "I was advised to get her here for a physical."

Saia looked back at the doctor and her eyes shot wide as she recognized him and quickly got behind Nara. Nara shot her head back confused. She was confused a moment looking at Klaus, "She's never done that before."

Nara's mouth opened, "Oooh." Nara turned to look at Saia, "He's a friend of mine."

Saia backed up, "He's your friend? He put a Symbiont in a human!"

Other's in sickbay were now watching the commotion.

Nara sighed, "I'm sure he was just helping."

"In my defense, I saved two lives where I would have lost both had I not done that. And if you're wondering, Mr. Savoie has already made a full recovery. Now please. You'll be conscious the whole time, so I won't be able to slip any symbiotic life forms into your abdomen!" Klaus chuckled at his stupid attempt to be funny... but stopped realizing he could do better than that.

Saia's face was still sad as Nara watched her. Neither noticed the attempt at the joke.

He tried another approach. "Please. We should get this done before we leave Trill and the rest of my staff is busy. We're a bit short on supplies."

Nara looked at Klaus, not quite understanding why that was relevant, but motioned for Saia to come here. Old habit, she supposed. Saia came closer and Nara put her hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, "Trust me. I won't let him hurt you. He's a doctor."

Saia knew he was doctor. She shrugged and sighed.

Nara stood and walked with Saia toward a biobed and helped her on it.

"I assure you that I am perfectly safe. I unfortunately have no other members of my staff to take care of this." He pulled out his multitude of tools and began. "You know. It's good that's finally over. Time to put the disaster behind us and rebuild."

He switched scanners and continued. "So, what is your name little girl?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "She just told you. Saia. And I'm not little. I'm ten."

Nara sighed, "Forgive her. As I told you before, we were in a medical tent these last weeks. Not much rest to be had there. We just got back today and I don't think she got much more rest than me since then."

"Well, I am sorry for what you had to see, it must have been an affront to, and would have been to your people, but it had to be done." He continued scanning, hoping his serene smile would influence the child.

Saia frowned and slumped. She wasn't sure she even cared. She had grown up learning that to receive a symbiont was the highest honor, but she wasn't quite old enough to really desire one. She had a few years before she would even be able to be a host. Now with her parents gone, she wasn't even sure she was eligible anymore. "As long as the symbiont is ok." She had basically slipped back into a melancholy state again.

"I assure you, Slen is recovering quite nicely. I'd like to try to understand the whole Symbiont aspect, but I'm just a human, and probably never will. I'm not too concerned. I wish I could have done more on the surface..." He stopped for a moment, but continued.

"Well, you seem Healthy. Still I want a blood sample for the ship's database. An idiosyncrasy of mine." He pulled out a special hypo and painlessly extracted the droplet of blood.

Saia jumped a bit hearing the hiss sound, but stayed somewhat still.

"Ok. I think we're done for now. I hope you feel better about things. And I believe Nara will be able to care for you just fine."

Nara smiled and helped Saia off the biobed. "Thanks Doctor. Have a good evening."

Nara walked out with Saia. "I know this is hard for you, but can you TRY to be nicer." Saia looked up and saw the exhaustion in Nara's face. She took her hand, "I'm sorry." Nara smiled at her, "It's ok. I think we both just need some sleep." Saia looked back toward where she was walking. She made the decision to be nicer.

Of course, she also forgot it the next moment. She realized she didn't have her PADD. She suddenly ran back into sickbay without giving Nara a chance to realize what happened. By the time Nara was between the doors, she saw Saia grab her PADD and run back toward the door. Klaus was already back in his office, so Nara was glad he didn't see that.

Then they were back out in the hall and Saia nearly hit a corner as she drew on the PADD. Nara abruptly grabbed it, "Give me that before you hurt yourself." Saia crossed her arms and wouldn't take Nara's hand. One should NEVER grab an artist's canvas or brush from them. It was just sacrilege!

Nara just let her walk beside her. "Pout if you want, but you can have it back when we get to my quarters." Nara knew she could had simply asked Saia not to draw and therefore get a less upset reaction, but both of their wits were ragged by now. They needed to eat and sleep soon before they were at each other's throats.

Nara sighed saddened by the sudden irritation they seemed to have with each other. Suddenly she wished to be back on Trill, silent in her cloak. At least there Saia and she got along.

"Scoop"

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Jasmine Heloi
Emmett Bregman

Emmett Bregman leaned against the plush chair as he regarded the two fighter pilots seated before him through considering eyes. His position on the USS Galaxy did tend to come in handy, especially when it meant that he could get some exclusive interviews that people like that Times bastard could only hope for. Bastard, he mentally repeated. Getting the scoop on him.... Bregman caught the glimmer of amusement in the woman's eyes and sternly pulled himself together. She was a Betazoid after all...then again, it was said that they made the best lovers....

'Pull yourself together, Emmett,' he told himself firmly before clearing his throat, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me Major Rex, Lieutenant Heloi. I trust you're familiar with the recent coverage on the Diis incident, but most of that coverage tended to be a little...bare of human personality as it were. Then again, it was put out by the Times..." 'Bastard,' he thought again. "Anyway, I'd like to hear in your words, what the final few hours leading up to the capture of Mister Thomas were like."

Jasmine Heloi's long legs were stretched out haphazardly before her as she considered Bregman's question. She had met the man before during her time as an actress, and she had to admit that he was good at what he did. He was just a little on the coarse side. Jasmine looked towards Corran and arched her eyebrows to see if he wanted to 'go first.'

"Quick." Corran replied uncomfortably, edging slightly in his seat. In all of his lives, he'd never really been comfortable with public attention (though he often seemed to find it nonetheless.)

He therefore, generally, replied in quick and succinct terms, and constantly looked for a way to get out of situations just such as this one. Nevermind that Jazz had insisted he do it. She knew how he felt about it, this was certainly some kind of sadistic punishment...

Of course, thinking of it that way, he was vaguely turned on. Until, of course, he recalled that his exec was pretty firmly involved with Wes.

Ah well. What a waste.

Jasmine's lips quirked upwards as she fought back the laugh that threatened to escape from her iron control. Revenge was sweet. She could tell that Emmett was not too thrilled with the 'quick' response that he had received from Corran, so she took pity on the poor man. "Like Corran said, it was quick. Though from my end, it was busy. I was leading Vanguard Squadron while Corran was on the planet surface. When the Diis had attacked the Galaxy, I was on the other side of the planet. Needless to say, something had to be done and fast."

Drawing upon her acting skills, Jasmine drew a picture for Emmett and in turn for the thousands of viewers that would be watching this interview of those tense moments as she came up with a plan of attack to try and free the Galaxy from the Diis' clutches. She could distinctly remember the fight and her focused senses as she flew her fighter in maneuvers that threatened structural integrity and sanity. She had regretted that zone later, especially since it had made her miss the first few moments of Corran's 'kamikaze' run.

Emmett was about ready to kiss the gorgeous red head for saving his life. He had always hated interviewing people like Corran Rex. How could you produce or execute an interview with people who were limited to single word responses? You couldn't. Thank god for the former actress! Vaguely he wondered if she was seeing anyone. "So, tell me Corran, you don't mind if I call you Corran do you? Anyway, tell me...just what was going through your mind as you were barreling at .5 warp towards the USS Diis?"

"I'm an idiot?" Jasmine muttered, only to earn a sharp elbow in her side.

Scratching his ear for a moment (after the firm elbow he'd planted in Jazz's side), Rex did recall that he'd promised to at least try with this.

"Well, Emmett - can I call you Emmett?" without waiting for a response, he continued. "Mostly I was thinking "You son of a bitch, you're not pulling this again." It's the kind of situation where you have to make decisions in a split second. An Akira's a pretty heavily armored ship, and our weapons just weren't cutting it with Galaxy's weapons disabled."

"I was closest, so I knew what I had to do. I laid in my course, stayed long enough to make sure she'd hit, and activated my emergency transporter." he finished.

"You don't get a lot of time to think in cases like that. You do what you have to, and pray it was the right choice."

"Do you think Starfleet's actions, and even Trill's, were enough in the face of this madman? Was there something else that could have been done? Or do you think, that no matter how the story played out the ending would have been the same? With you and this crew playing the heroes once more?" Emmett asked as he gestured for Shep and Dale to focus the cameras more tightly on Corran's face.

The Trill frowned at that, eyebrows knitting together. "We're not heroes, Emmett. We were just doing our jobs. The real heroes are all the rescue workers down on Trill, braving danger daily to save lives, and the history of my people, down in Leran Manev.'

"And it's a foolish thing to ask - could we have done more? In hindsight, sure - that's the beauty of looking back on something. You can always figure out what you should have done. But you have to live with what you *did*. What you could have done - that never matters, because it didn't happen."

Emmett smiled, "That's just it, Corran. You are heroes. Down to the lowest janitor. It amazes me sometimes to see people like you and Miss Heloi on these mighty starships thinking nothing of just what it is that you're doing out here. I can ask a child on any one of the planets in the Federation just who their heroes are and I can guarantee you that they'll point at a Starfleet officer. But, listen to me, I'm preaching." Bregman cleared his throat before continuing, "Did you consider, as you were barreling towards the Diis or as you, Miss Heloi, were fighting against the Breen, your mortality? What would happen if you failed? Or did you only focus upon the positives?" Jasmine shook her head as she replied, "My mortality is just that. My mortality. Whether I live or die doesn't matter when I'm out there, though I do hope for life. What matters is that I'm out there fighting for what I believe in and protecting my shipmates. Any other considerations are moot when I'm in the zone. It's only afterwards that I think about what might have been and accept both it and what did happen be it good or bad. It's how you survive out here. Fear can paralyze you and that is not something you want to think about when you're in a fighter with a thin layer of shielding and bulkheads between you and the cold vacuum of space."

Corran actually offered a little laugh at the question of mortality. "How old do you think I am, Emmett?"

"Which one?" Emmett asked with a faint grin, "The kid in front of me, or the old geezer in the pouch?"

"We're the same person." Corran replied. "Well, these days, anyways."

"But, I'm over five hundred years old. For the last few years, I've had T'Rex's Syndrome - it's only recently gone in remission. I'm used to the idea that this is my last life. If I die - I die. I've had a good run."

"You're making me feel like a kid," Emmett muttered slightly before nodding, "Jasmine," he didn't ask her if she minded if he called her that, "spoke of being in a 'zone' during a fight. Do you find that applies to you as well, Corran?"

"I'm a pilot, aren't I?" Corran asked, that easy smile still plastered across his face. It must have been Vorzin's influence - that was the only time he'd been a politician. This was getting easier as the interview went on.

Emmett just gestured for him to continue.

"But yes, to answer your question, I do get "In the zone", as Jazz calls it. All pilots do - it's a thing we call situational awareness. you have to be aware of everything, all at once, and able to process that. There's a certain amount of lateral - as well as unconventional - thinking you have to be capable of to be a starfighter pilot It's why you find so many odd personalities in the Starfighter Corps."

He received an elbow in the side for that comment, "Which is why Corran tends to fit in so well amongst them," Jasmine smiled innocently. "Come to think of it...it's why I do too." Emmett suppressed a sigh as he watched the by play. First the Times bastard outscoops him and then the future ex-Mrs.. Bregman turns out to be taken. This really wasn't his month.

"Careful with all the touching, Jazz." Corran whispered to his exec quickly. "Wes'll probably see this, after all." he grinned. Of course, it would play right into Corran's hands if Hammond did. The Trill loved tormenting his Miranda counterpart in Rogue Squadron in any way he could. As did, come to think of it, a great many other people.

The Betazoid flashed a glare at him as she whispered back, "Keep on dreaming, fly-boy." "That wraps up all the questions that I have for the two of you. Is there anything else that you'd like to say before I wrap up this interview?" Emmett asked.

"Er.." Corran shrugged. "Not really, no."

Jasmine just shook her head in the negative. With a brief shrug, Emmett smiled his patented million-watt smile, "Then I'd like to thank you again for agreeing to speak with me. It was a pleasure, Jasmine," he grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips, "Corran," with him, he simply offered his hand.

"Emmett." he said, giving a nod, and returning the quick handshake.

"All right, Shep, Dale, pack it up. We'll do the editing first thing tomorrow and get it shipped to the office tomorrow afternoon," Emmett said as he began ushering his crew to pack up from the interview. Jasmine was still looking at her hand as if it had been contaminated. She thought she had felt his tongue on her hand. Shuddering slightly, Heloi wiped the back of her hand against her pants and determined that her first port of call would be the head.

Corran waited a moment until Bregman and his crew had left, and the door to the pilots lounge had swished closed. "So, seriously? I think he wants to sleep with you, Jazz."

"I think he's a pompous prig and I don't give a damn what he wants," she replied still wiping her hand against her pant leg, "Gah. I really need to get to the head. I've been contaminated with...with...Emmett cooties," Jazz finished lamely.

Corran just laughed at that. "Hey, want me to join you?" he asked, giving her a wide smiled that told he was joking - mostly.

"Only when the universe stops expanding," Jasmine replied with a laugh, "You're just getting more daring in your old age, Rex."

"You only live once." he replied, smirking. "Unless you're a Trill, of course."

She just rolled her eyes, "Next you're going to be suggesting I count your spots. Might I recommend getting a good pick up line instruction manual?"

"Nothing wrong with my pickup lines." Corran muttered. "They'd work on you if you were single."

"You wish, Rex," Jasmine smiled slightly as she patted his cheek. With that, the Science Chief walked out of the lounge. If she swished her hips a little on her way, who could blame her?

"Holding the Reins"

1Lt. T'Shani Akledorian CO, SFMC 188th Furies TSS Dtc.

2Lt. Branwen London Furies' XO

SSgt. Matthew St. Valentine (NPC, M. Miller) Furies' Aide de Campe

== Deck 4: Furies Command Offices ==

Finally the summons came from the new commanding officer. Branwen made sure she was there in time and waited in the foyer. The aide, Staff Sergeant Valentine, was busy doing 'paperwork' and ignoring Branwen.

She sat there trying not to show how nervous she was. She really wanted to prove herself, and Lieutenant Hayes had been so nice. How would the new commanding officer reacts to a shrink, and her being assistant chief. *BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Valentine looked up from the LCARS display he was studying, to the commpanel on his desk. Swiveling in his chair, he reached for and then depressed the button. "Valentine here, Lieutenant," he replied.

[Send in the Lieutenant, Sergeant,] came the clipped voice of the Furies' new CO, T'Shani Akledorian.

Branwen took a deep breath. She knew chances of the new CO being as nice and understanding as Hayes were very slim, and she was not looking forward to this interview.

Valentine looked over to where Second Lieutenant Branwen London was seated before replying, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Lieutenant London, Lieutenant T'Shani is ready to see you in her office, Ma'am," he gestured toward the now-closed doors beyond a small separating hallway. If there was anything to say about Valentine (besides "boring", which was appellated to him quite often), it was that he was always professional.

She entered the office and came to attention crisply. "Second Lieutenant Branwen London reporting for duty, Ma'am." The commanding officer did not turn to look at her as she was staring out into space. Branwen felt the last of confidence flowing away. Yet there was nothing she could do but stand at attention and wait.

There was nothing interesting in the vicinity of space that Tish was staring at. Every once in awhile, a shuttle would quickly zoom past her view, either to or from the massive shuttlbay complex that was near the Marine offices. She had heard London enter and report, but didn't mind letting the younger officer 'sweat it', a little bit. Markay'di'n had done the same with her, when she was a greenhorn.

Slowly, the Andorian woman turned to her guest, regarding her closely. London was tall, with good build and a strong, yet attractively feminine face, framed by her dark brunette hair pulled back into a braided bun.

Branwen also watched her Andorian commanding officer. She was fascinated with a little antenna that kept twitching.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," Tish said simply, pulling her own chair out, as well.

"Thank you, Ma'am." She sat down crisply waiting for the interrogation to start.

Tish watched London closely, noting that the woman - girl, really - seemed more nervous than would be usual for a meeting with the CO. After reading the after-action reports from the Trill mission, Tish was wondering more and more what, exactly, Hayes had seen in her. She thought she knew, though...

Branwen in the meantime tried very hard not to show she was nervous.

"You are new to the Corps, Lieutenant?"

"I have been on the ship a few months, Ma'am. But this is my first posting. Although I have lived amongst Starfleet personnel since I was a teenager."

"Yes, I have reviewed your duty jacket, Lieutenant. Quite an interesting childhood. How does that affect your ability to relate to others, on a professional level?" Tish knew that she was being quite direct, but wanted to hear London's response, after what Johnson had had to say about the Lieutenant.

Branwen blushed, she didn't like to talk about her childhood. And she knew that Starfleet files were only the sanitised version. "I grew up with my sister from when I was fourteen. At the academy grounds in San Francisco, there I learned to socialise. And I have never gotten in to trouble with it. Or Iwould not have chosen counselling as a profession, Ma'am."

"I see," Tish said, leaning back into her chair. Then leaning forward over her desk, "Lieutenant London, I am very impressed by your academic achievments, regardless of your... unique upbringing. In a span of five or six years, you recieved your Doctorate degree. That shows to me that you are passionate and focused in your field."

"Thank you Ma'am." Branwen wasn't sure where this was going.

"You're welcome," Tish sighed, and leaned back into her chair a little. "However..."

~Oh no...here it is... 'you are young, you are a shrink, I don't want you'.~ It all went through Branwen's head.

Tish noticed Branwen shifting uncomfortably in her chair, as if she had been expecting the CO to have something negative to say. Tish paused, interjecting, "relax, Lieutenant. Let me finish, before you draw any conclusions."

"Yes Ma'am."

Tish continued, "However, I *am* concerned about your performance, especially during this last mission. You effectively relinquished your command authority to Lieutenant Baile, even though *you* were in command. Explain," Tish said, trying to be to-the-point, without sounding too agressive. She was genuinely interested in Branwen's explanation, as it would be a founding basis for her decision as to whether London would remain the Exec.

"With respect Ma'am, although I was the most senior officer, I had not been put in command of the Marine's mission. I had been assigned to help in the hospital. It was only later that Lieutenant Baile needed my help. He had been on the scene all the time, and he knew the situation. I thought it would have been irresponsible to assume command at that moment." If that was wrong, so be it. Branwen would not do it differently another time.

"So you relinquished your command?" Tish pressed, testing how far she could push London, before she either broke or became angry. Besides supplying T'Shani the information she would need to form a basis of opinion about Lieutenant London, the tactic served as an effective 'feeler' for her emotional stability, as well.

"In my opinion I was never in command of that mission in the first place. It was Lieutenant Baile's mission, and he had been briefed on the background." Bran said very calm.

Tish did her best to hide a smirk, as she noticed that London kept herself well-composed. Tish had given her a shovel - so to speak - and had figured that Branwen would either dig herself into a hole, or make something out of it. So far, she seemed to be making it...

Branwen is getting better had not showing how nervous she was as she watched her commanding officer get up and walk back to the window.

"Let's leave our bars at the door for a moment, Branwen. I believe you are a good officer. Young, inexperienced, and naive, but with much potential."

"Thank you. I know I still have a lot to learn, and I am willing to."

Tish turned and looked Branwen straight in the eyes, fierce yellow-gold meeting doe-like brown. "As my Exec, I *expect* you to 'hold the reins' - as you Pinkskins say - when I hand them to you. I have no problem with delegation, but let me make one thing *PERFECTLY* clear," Tish emphasized while leaning over her desk.

The younger woman watched her, mesmerised. She nodded her head that she understood.

"Unless you are unconcious, seriously incapacitated, mentally insane, or dead, you will *not* relinquish your command to anyone who does not have proper command authority. I know this may require you to grow some backbone, especially around Second Lieutenant Baile. But do it and get over it." Tish straightened from her desk. She knew that she was laying into London a little hard, but figured that it was better to get this all 'on the table' now, rather than having to deal with some damned emotional breakdown on the battlefield, later.

Branwen swallowed a smart as remark, especially about the backbone.

"Can you handle that, or should I draft the XO spot for someone else?"

"No ma'am, I can handle it." She assured the CO.

Tish allowed a smile - albeit small - along with an amused bob of her antennas. Branwen would do fine, as long as she took action.

"Stand to, Marine!" Tish commanded.

Immediately London came to attention.

T'Shani picked up a padd, and read its contents aloud. "Second Lieutenant Branwen London, as Commanding Officer of the Second Detachment of the Marine Corps of the United Federation of Planet's Starfleet Command's One-hundred Eighty-eighth Tactical Strategic Strike Batallion - and by command of this Batallion's Commander-In-Chief, Colonel Gessekensett - I hearby charge you with the duties, responsibilities, and respect due you as the Executive Commanding Officer of this detachment."

It was still a surprise, and a victory for Branwen to be given this chance.

Tish placed the padd on her desk, turning it to face London. "Just give me your thumb imprint right here," she gestured to the padd, "to signify your acceptance of this position."

She did what was asked of her.

"Good," she gathered the padd, touching a button on the device's screen to send copies to both Branwen's Inbox and HQ. Then, looking up at London again, she extended her long, slender, blue hand.

"Congratulations, XO."

"Thank you ma'am." Bran shook the hand smiling.

Tish only nodded her head in reply, then added, "The executive and support staffs will be under your direct control when we are not on the battlefield. When we *are*, you will be my eyes-and-ears; I'll be relying heavily on you, Lieutenant. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then get to it, Marine." Tish said, another smile creeping around the corners of her lips. "Dismissed."

Branwen turned for the door, she wanted some alone time to digest everything that had just happened.

"And Lieutenant?" Tish called out, causing Branwen to pause in the still-open doorway.

"Ma'am?"

"The Skipper tells me you'll be joined by Ms. Widdlestien for some... 'instructive training'. Keep her out of my hair, or I'll rip that bar off your collar faster than a Bretaxian speedflier."

" Yes ma'am." Obviously the Andorian was not a fan of children.

"Now, get out of here, Lieutenant."

The doors swished quietly behind the new Executive Officer as she speedily exited Tish's office.

"Loose Ends"

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer

with... Lieutenant Elisa Henderson,
Chief Flight Controller, USS Tiberius

PO1 Timothy 'Terror' Mirapoints,
Senior Phaser Gunnery Mate

and... Captain Doctor Clive Larkin, CO: USS Demeter

****

Business District, Leran Manev, Trill

Cass Henderson brushed the dust from his shoulders, and walked back over to the waiting hovercar. He'd just finished supervising the destruction of one of the less stable buildings in the 'Ground Zero' of the Akula's crash in Leran Manev. With the defeat of Commander Thomas at the hands of the Galaxy crew, and the slightly late arrival of Rear Admiral Bhrode's USS Zeus, life had returned to order.

The relief efforts still had to be managed, and it was Cass' turn to take command on the surface. He'd been intermittently switching off with Corgan, Tarin, and O'Shea, in coordinating the continuing relief effort.

So far, he'd found it to be a fairly relaxing distraction.

There was something about the hands on work and the minute to minute accomplishment of individual goals that appealed to Cass, especially since it moved his mind away from Intelligence, away from Rima, and especially away from the growing concern he was feeling about the Havras coverup.

Opening the passenger side door of the comandeered hovercar, he dropped into the seat. "Well, Terror, was that better than the last one?" he asked the Petty Officer sitting in the driver's seat. Normally a Phaser Gunnery Mate, "Tim The Terror" was doubling as a supervisor for demolitions and a driver for Commander Henderson.

Terror grinned, his battered face showing the results of the dozens of fistfights he'd been in. "Marginally, sir. These Trill engineers don't really know enough about debris containment to do it right. You're still getting some rubble outside the box."

Cass looked back over at where the former headquarters for Reban Accounting Inc. had stood. Sure enough, when the engineers had imploded the building, some of the rubble had fallen just outside the foundation, too close to the digging equipment. He frowned.

"At least it didn't hit anything," he shrugged, "So where are we off to now, Chief?"

"Symbiosis Commission, boss. About fifteen minutes from here. One of the Engineers says they found something interesting while stabilizing the Akula's Saucer for removal. Said you might want to see it," Mirapoints replied, engaging the hovercar's engine and beginning to pick up speed. "Oh, and your sister called. Wants you to call her back."

Cass grinned. Another welcome distraction. The wind began to whip through his short cut hair as they came to top speed. "Is there a screen in this thing?"

"Over there," Terror pointed at a monitor that could be pulled up from the door.

"Thanks," Cass nodded, reaching out to pull the monitor up from the door. The display was, of course, in Trill. Thankfully, he'd managed to pick up a really weak working knowledge of the language in the last few days, and was able to recall the frequency needed to call his sister back. It had been a long time since he'd last spoken to her. With his sudden promotion to Executive Officer a year previously, he'd been so busy adjusting to the new duties that he'd ignored his family.

A few moments later, the thin face of Elisa Henderson, his siter, appeared on the monitor. It had been nearly a year since they'd talked. Cass had been busy, mostly because he'd been promoted and then taken on responsibility for the five field agents that he was handling. [Hey there, Cassius. You got my message?]

"I think so," he replied with a grin. He and his sister had always been close. Growing up, he had been very protective, and he still was to a degree. "Provided that the message was just to call you back. What's up, Elisa?"

[Yeah, that's it... Ah... Well, I was just promoted,] she smiled, pointing her chin at the second full pip on her collar. [When Commander Harris left Command School, she recommended that I replace her as Chief Flight Controller.]

"Congratulations, then," Cass nodded, "How's the adjustment going?"

[Too fast,] Elisa laughed, brushing her blonde hair back over her ear. [I've been overwhelmed the last few days, but I think I'm starting to get it all back together. Cass... Mom and Dad are kind of worried about you.]

"Oh?" That surprised him. Usually his mother and father were too busy with their own duties to be worrying about him. If they had been concerned, and thought it important enough to have Elisa come to him, then perhaps there was something to it.

[Yeah. Well, you haven't exactly called any of us recently,] she replied, [And you're usually very good about that. Is something wrong?]

"Not that I know of," he shrugged. "I've been very busy since becoming the ex-oh here. I suppose what you've said about the transition that you're going through is really the same for me."

Elisa frowned at him. [Cass, please don't bullshit me. Mom thinks you're working for Starfleet Intelligence again. She said that the last time you didn't contact us for over a year was when you started working for SFI the last time. 2372 to 2376, Cassius, and we barely heard from you.]

"Elisa, this isn't a secure line," Cass frowned. He stifled the urge to glance over at Mirapoints. This was a bad time, and he would have to be careful not to reveal anything. "Even if I were working for SFI again, I couldn't tell you."

[Cass, I... Okay,] she pursed her lips in frustration.

"It's not that I want to hold anything from you. I hope that you believe that I'm not. But you remember how it was when I was working for SFI," he replied as the speeder began to slow down. They were approaching the wreckage of the Akula. "I shut you all out of my life because it was a risk."

Mirapoints looked over as the car came to a stop at the Forward Command Post of the relief operations forces. "Sir, we're almost there."

"Elisa, I'm going to have to cut this short. I will call you back tonight, and I'll do whatever it takes to assure you that I'm not going back to work for Intelligence. I swear," he said, "But for now, I need to get back to work."

[Alright, but if you haven't called by 2400, I'm going to call you," his sister replied. "And I'm going to keep calling until you answer.]

He shrugged, "Fair enough."

[Okay. I'll talk to you tonight. Elisa out.]

Her image blinked out from the screen, and Cassius pushed the monitor back down into it's socket. "Thank you, Terror. Go grab some food. It's going to be a long day." He pointed over to the mess tent, then opened the door and got out.

The place was a crater. They were probably lucky that the entire area hadn't exploded. But then, that was what Marsh and Remur had been for. Thankfully they'd managed to disable the self destruct at the last minute. For that, Cass was eternally greatful. Watching Trill civilization die wasn't exactly high on his to do list.

He walked over to the command post, taking a moment to survey the refugee camp that had sprung up around it. The wounded, homeless, and lost had all gathered around the flag of the UFP, which fluttered in the breeze over the command post. If only there was more that they could do, Henderson mused.

Passing the guards at the door, he entered the building and made his way to the situation room. As he entered the room, hew as greeted by the officers from the other starships that had taken up position in orbit.

"So, what do you have for me?" Cass asked, walking over to the table that they'd set up for maps and reports.

An unfamiliar officer wearing the pips of a captain spoke first, "Actually, I'm here to relieve you. Captain Clive Larkin, USS Demeter. We're a relief ship, specifically designed to manage these situations."

Cass nodded. Though he hadn't been expecting it, it was a welcome relief. "Thank you, Captain Larkin. Do you know if Captain M'Kantu has recieved new orders yet?"

"I do," Larkin replied, and handed him a PADD. "The Galaxy is to proceed to Starbase 212, where you'll be met by Rear Admiral Livia Proctor, the new commanding officer of Deep Space 5. Evidently Starfleet Command seems to think that after Trill, you need a rest, so you're to ferry her to her new command."

Cass nodded, and accepted the PADD, dismissing a frown before it could cross his features. Admiral Proctor was one of the more prominent members of the 'Hawk' faction in Starfleet, and was also, in his opinion, an unoriginal tactician. Having her so close to the Hydran border was a security threat as far as he was concerned. He'd have to recall an agent to watch her.

"Thank you, sir. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave now. I'm sure I'm needed on the Galaxy," he said, offering his hand to Larkin. The other man shook it, and let go.

"Of course, Commander. You're dismissed."

Cass nodded, and headed for the transporter room.

2438