[BACKPOST] - Takes place prior to 'Breaking News'

"Title."

By Ensign G'Bat'ea
Tactical Officer

& Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg
Chief Medical Officer

G'Bat'ea had come straight from the Tactical offices to get himself declared officially fit for duty. Having met his chief of department he was beginning to become more keen to get started - Lieutenant Taern had been around the same age as G'Bat'ea and seemed a very capable and knowledgeable man. It seemed they had quite a bit in common and that would more than likely lead to a good working relationship.

Now, entering sickbay, he hoped whomever was available would forego the full medical that was supposed to be carried out on these occasions in favour of a much quicker and simpler check-up. G'Bat'ea always felt some of the procedures were a bit uncomfortable and doctor's seemed to have a nasty habit of asking rather invasive questions - probably learned off their colleagues in counselling. Holistic medicine indeed.

Sickbay seemed rather quiet and there was no sign of any staff in the immediate area. G'Bat'ea walked in a little further. "Hello?"

Klaus peeped around a corner out of his office door, immediately startled by the sight. "Oh My!"

His last encounter with a Nausican didn't end well. The Uniform, a federation standard, defused it.

"May I help you?"

G'Bat'ea noticed the discomfort in the expression of the man before him so approached him slowly. "I am Ensign G'Bat'ea, I have just come aboard to start duty with the Tactical department. I need to be declared fit for duty, sir." He hoped the man was not too afraid of Nausicaans - they were after all a rather intimidating species to those of a smaller and weaker stature.

"You know. You're the first Nausican I've seen in 15 years." Klaus calmed down. It was more surprise than fear. "You'll have to excuse my ignorance of Nausican physiology. I think I'll be doing some homework tonight. Take a seat on one of the biobeds and I'll be right with you."

G'Bat'ea smiled, he often caused a bit of a rouse with doctor's who were unfamiliar with his species - they just weren't sure what characteristics were normal for a Nausicaan. He sat on the edge of the nearest biobed and let the doctor gather what he required.

Klaus had calmed down. This one was a friend. "So. G'Bat'Tea was it?" Klaus asked while digging out a padd with the right information. He mumbled something to himself about the normal life signs of a nausican.

"That is correct." G'Bat'ea nodded, with a light smirk, it seemed that perhaps this doctor hadn't had much experience with his kind.

"Well, I think it's a good thing to see so many varied races in Starfleet. Has a feeling of solidarity, and unity in the Galaxy. Call me a dove. I don't care."

He continued to scan, continually checking his findings with his recorded information. The doctor mumbled to himself something about making the lifesigns second nature.

"A dove, doctor? I thought that was some sort of flying creature native to earth?" He vaguely remembered the information but could not be one hundred percent certain.

"The word is being used as a political term these days. People who just want peace are being called doves, with the war mongering people are being called Hawks. Well. Your life signs appear to be correct. But I'm going to double check."

G'Bat'ea had never heard the words in those terms before, and he fell into neither category but into the infinite grayness in between. "Alright doctor, but be aware I have always had a slightly lower heart-rate than standard - nothing to worry about I am told." G'Bat'ea was not an expert in Nausicaan physiology but he probably knew more about it at current than his doctor...

"I will have your personal physiology memorised by the end of the week. I promise."

Finishing up...."So. What brings you to our humble little ship?"

"A change of scene." G'Bat'ea admitted openly. "I was seconded during the war but chose to stay in the ranks of Starfleet. I've been serving aboard the Sutherland for several years - mainly in Cardassian territory." He didn't want to admit that he had simply bored of his assignment there and had hoped for something a bit more exciting. He had expected it to take the form of more responsibility on a smaller vessel, but here he was.

"A Change of Scenery. I like the sound of that. At least this world we're going to should be interesting...I hope. Heh heh heh. I haven't done much good old fashioned exploring in a long time."

G'Bat'ea hadn't actually had a look at their current mission parameters, he had opted for reading over ship and crew information first. "Which planet are we bound for?" He asked, his interested piqued at the mention of exploration.

"I remember hearing something about a world on the Hydran border." G'Bat'ea had likely not heard about the Battle of Havras. Klaus had to be careful on the subject.

"The Hydrans," G'Bat'ea mused, thinking about the name he had heard before. "I hear they are a bit shady in their dealings, only contact has been borderline hostile? Supposed to be formidable opponents in battle." He had picked up a lot from his education with the Zakdorn.

"They are definitely dangerous in a fight...from what I hear." Klaus said half-serious, half-quizically. "But we're checking in on some archeaologists. Hopefully everything is ok, and there will be some interesting things to see."

"I am not very interested in archaeology." G'Bat'ea was rather let down by the revelation. "But perhaps it may give us further insight into the Hydrans..." One could but hope.

"Hmmm. You think so? We'll see."

"Indeed we shall, hopefully it will not be too adverse a mission." G'Bat'ea conceded, with the number of civilians on board a Galaxy vessel any confrontational situation was bound to end badly. It was not an angle that he had been required to look at tactics from until it had occurred to him moments ago. This could warrant a bit more studying.

Klaus seemed distant for a moment. He knew exactly what G'Bat'ea meant. "Agreed."

G'Bat'ea watched the doctor's eyes as they glazed momentarily, bad memories he had little doubt. "Anyhow, doctor, am I healthy?"

"In accordance to these readings, yes. Rest assured I'll have your physiology memorised and understood. That way there will be no mistakes."

G'Bat'ea nodded in satisfaction. "So, I am ready to start duty, then."

"Yes." Klaus Smiled. "Dismissed."

“Voices”

Location:
Leran Manev View Hospital,
Room 8
Intensive care ward

Primary characters: Dhanishta Eshe (APC)

Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe (APC)

Tanson Eshe (APC)

Kerenza Eshe (APC)

And now her mother had turned against her. Kala shook her head. *She* was the one that had heard Dhanis call, not her mother or her father. *She* was the one that ran to her sisters bedside and stayed there. *She* was the one that had almost died trying to rescue her sister from her own mind. *She* was the one who had been here for six months, waiting and praying. Never giving up hope. And now they come and...

Her train of though was interrupted as she saw Kerenzas outstretched hand…

Kala looked at her mothers’ hand, guilt gnawed at her for thinking that her mother didn’t care. The corners of her mouth descended into a frown as her chin wobbled. Taking her mothers’ hand she let her pull her close.

Sliding on to her knees Kala wrapped her arms around her mother. Her tears spilling out, no longer able to hold them in.

Tanson smiled slightly as he embraced his wife and his daughter. Pulling them close he decided that nothing would ever break them up. He wasn’t going to let death take his family. Stroking the back of Kalas head he pulled Kerenza closer and looked over at Dhanishta.

His heart ached. He longed to hold her. Longed to see her smile. Looking down at Kala he realised he always would. Through Kala part of Dhani would live on forever. Looking down at the red head his chest tightened. Her words from before chilling him, “I’ll die without her.” he couldn’t lose her too.

Kerenza pulled away from Kala. Brushing the hair back from Kalas face she looked deep into her emerald green eyes,

“You know that I love you?” she questioned, her eyes searching Kalas face.

Kala frowned and half smiled all at the same time. Wiping her face with her sleeve she nodded and whispered, “I love you too.”

Kerenza smiled and pulled Kala back into another hug. Such relief at hearing those words from her daughter, a tear rolled down her cheek. Pulling away again Kerenza dried her eyes and sniffed. Standing up she smoothed down her dress and turned back to Dhanis bed side.

Kala stood up grabbing her fathers hand for support. As she rose to her feet Tanson wrapped his arm around her and together they stepped forward and joined Kerenza.

All three of them looked down at Dhanis body.

****

Dhanishta concentrated through the pain. Through the wind she could hear them, almost see them.

~MOM.~ she called out again.

****

Kerenza turned back to Kala. Her temper flared slightly, “Kala, stop that.” She said slightly clipped.

Kala frowned, “Stop what?” she asked confused.

Kerenza took a deep ‘cleansing’ breath, waving her hand she brushed off the comment. Sighing she turned to Tanson,

“We need to let her captain know what’s happened.” She said calmly picking up her mantle of soldiering on.

Tanson swallowed hard and nodded. He wasn’t ready to face people and tell them that his daughter had died. But then would he ever be? He didn’t understand how Kerenza could be so clinical. But he understood that it was her way of dealing with things. And sometimes that approach was needed. But was this the time for such an attitude? A frown crossed his face, was there a manual to this? Could he have it?

Kala stared at her sister in disbelief. She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t.

Kerenza took Tansons’ hand and squeezed it,

“I’ll go.” She told him quietly.

A look transpired between the two of them, conveying more than words ever could; his gratitude, her understanding and much more.

“Can you get the details of where your parents are staying and I will call them as soon as I get back?”

Again, all Tanson could do was nod.

Kerenza squeezed his hand again, “I will take care of everything honey.” she said.

“No.” Tanson replied staring down at Dhani, curling her hair round his finger, “I couldn’t let you… Let you…” he choked on his words, “I need to help.” He finished glancing up at Kerenza.

He let Dhanis hair fall sharply from his hands and folded his arms. Clearing his throat he asked, “Should we burry her, or….” He looked back at Kerenza hoping that she would finish his sentence without him having to say or hear those words.

“I’ll talk to her captain and see what he suggests.” Kerenza replied quietly. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at her daughter. This was the sort of thing she was good at; planning. Planning anything! Staring in the face of adversity, soldiering on. But to be honest, right now she didn’t know where to begin. A second ago it all seemed so simple. But then the simplicity left as she looked down at Dhani. She was really going to have to do this; plan her daughters’ funeral. She blinked back her tears. She had to be strong for Tanson, she couldn’t let this… this sudden rush of emotion throw her. Tanson wasn’t as strong, he needed her support. He needed her to make all the arrangements and plan everything and ….and be the cold harsh unfeeling woman she had always been. Kerenza stared down at the floor, life seemed to take all sorts of twists and turns, it really sucked arse.

“Her favourite flowers are orchids.” Tanson blurted out, “We must have orchids, blue and purple ones… she loved them so…..” his voice wobbled as she spoke breaking as he began to cry. Covering his face with his hands he shook.

Kerenza wrapped an arm around him and pulled him to her chest stroking his hair soothing him as best she could. She begged all the gods that she had never once in her life prayed to, or gave a second thought to, to help her through this time of crisis. She prayed that she wouldn’t buckle, prayed for strength.

****

Within the cloud Dhani called out again. Grasping hold of the only piece of reality she could find.

~MOM?~

She cried out desperately as the wind picked up, beating her with the sand of time…

~MOMMY!!!~

She wailed as reality slipped away and all that was left was the swirling mass of colour.

****

“Kala!” Kerenza snapped, “Stop it. I won’t tell you again.”

Kala turned slowly from Dhani to her mother. “What the hell have I done now?” she asked confused and annoyed by the sudden accusation.

“Don’t take that tone of voice with me young lady!” Kerenza threatened as if her twenty-nine year old daughter was five.

Kala really couldn’t be bothered to argue with her mother. She had *decided* that Kala was doing something wrong, so fine. She really didn’t have the energy. Looking down at Dhani, hearing her parents discuss their next move, listening to them talk about her sisters funeral made her stomach turn.

“I’ll be outside.” Kala said walking slowly towards the door. She needed to get some air.

Closing the door she stood for a moment and stared down the corridor. This was all becoming a little too much for her. She could still feel her sister, how could she be gone? It wasn’t possible.

Slowly she walked, each step was a chore; heavy yet at the same time she felt as if she were walking on air, light as a feather. From the corner of her eye she saw Mia walking towards her. Her lips were moving but there was no sound. Around her patients conversed with visitors but she couldn’t hear them. It was like she had gone deaf.

Staring down at the floor Kala continued to the lift. The world still turned around her. In fact the entire galaxy did. People’s lives continued, yet hers had come to a crashing halt. Maybe there were others in the world that were experiencing exactly what she was… but that was little comfort.

She leaned heavily against the wall of the lift. It hummed as it descended the sound penetrated Kalas hearing. She was so sure that Dhani was going to wake up. She was so sure that she could feel her sisters’ life force, feel her will to survive. Or maybe she wanted so much for Dhani to wake up that she was making herself feel these things.

As she stepped out of the lift her tear shot eyes roamed the foyer. Bernzie nodded to her but she didn’t respond. She just had to get out. Get away from all the faces that knew her, all the people that wanted to say kind words. All the people that thought ‘sorry’ could help her and take her pain away.

No one understood the bond she had with Dhani. They weren’t ‘just’ sisters. They weren’t ‘just’ twins. There was so much more, that she herself couldn’t begin to explain.

Her feet dragged as she walked out into the brilliant sunshine and her head began to throb. This wasn’t happening was it?

The rest of the world fell away as Kala’s vision tunnelled and then darkened.

“Not Daddies Little Girl”

Location: Leran Manev View Hospital.

Primary characters: Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe (APC)

Tria (NPC)

And Tanson Eshe (APC)

****

As she stepped out of the lift her tear shot eyes roamed the foyer. Bernzie nodded to her but she didn’t respond. She just had to get out. Get away from all the faces that knew her, all the people that wanted to say kind words. All the people that thought ‘sorry’ could help her and take her pain away.

No one understood the bond she had with Dhani. They weren’t ‘just’ sisters. They weren’t ‘just’ twins. There was so much more, that she herself couldn’t begin to explain.

Her feet dragged as she walked out into the brilliant sunshine and her head began to throb. This wasn’t happening was it?

The rest of the world fell away as Kala’s vision tunnelled and then darkened.

*****

Kala blinked, the sunlight blinding her. A shadow crossed her vision and she opened an eye cautiously. She recognised the face above her. His lips were moving but there was still no sound. Shaking her head Kala rolled over. But Tria stopped her, pinning her to the floor.

“You aren’t getting up that quickly missy!” he told her pushing her gently to the ground. Taking out a tricorder he began to scan her. His faint smile waned as Kala mumbled her rejection at being pinned to the floor.

Leaning closely he brushed the hair from her face and blocked the sun with his torso, “Kala, can you hear me?” he asked her again.

Kala moaned her acknowledgment as she again tried to get up.

This time Tria helped her to stand. With her arm around his shoulder he half carried her, half walked her to a bench. Sitting her down he kneeled in front of her, his hand supporting her shoulder, so that she wouldn’t fall off the bench.

Kala leaned heavily on his hand and stared at the floor between his knees. She felt extremely tired and slightly light headed. Like her head had been stuffed with cotton wool, groaning she rubbed her head.

Tria watched her with observant eyes. Glancing back at the tricorder he frowned at the results before snapping it closed.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Yes.” Kala replied rubbing her temple.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Yes.” She said again sighing.

“Do you ..”

“Yes!” she cut him off her tone aggravated, “I know where I am. I know who I am. I know who you are and I know who the president is, okay? I’m fine alright.” she spat out. Sitting back on the bench she looked up at the sky, tears welling in her eyes.

Tria stood up and crossed his arms. “Well then seeing as you know everything. Mind telling me why you fainted?” he said staring at her with raised eyebrows.

Kala lifted her head and looked at him. His blond hair fell in curls across his forehead his deep blue eyes penetrated her with a look of concern and slight aggravation. For a moment she tried to read him, but her emotions were all over the place. She was a little shocked by his remark, he was a doctor, or something like that at the moment he could have been a targ and she wouldn’t have cared. “I don’t know.” She replied slightly peeved.

Tria changed his footing and continued to stare at her, “When was the last time you ate Kala?” he asked in a serious no nonsense tone.

Kala frowned, “I ate….” she started in the same tone as his but stopped. Frowning her eyes searched the ground, “I don’t remember.” she said looking back up at him.

Tria nodded slowly. He understood all too well but still, she was a Starfleet officer and she should know better. He sighed and pulled out a hypo spray. Filling it up he took a step forward, “Tilt your head to one side.” he told her.

Kala pushed her hair off her shoulder exposing her neck and watched as he moved in to administer the hypo.

Tria brushed a few remaining strands of hair off Kala’s neck with the back of his hand, her skin was warm and smooth. His eyes flittered over her collar bone; pronounced and defined, he noted the curve as her neck joined with her shoulder and kicked himself mentally as his eyes descended down her chest. He tried not to examine her body as he lent over. ~Critical eye~ he told himself, ~skinny, far to skinny, mal nourished… well toned arms, strong upper body, resistance of pain,~ he noticed the brand on her right shoulder, ~striking features, gorgeous hair… bet I could hold on to that! Boyfriend is a Klingon, could beat the crap out of me with his little finger…… bet she’s dynamite in bed!~ Clearing his throat Tria stood up,

“That should make you feel better for a while.”

“Thanks.” Kala mumbled as it hissed in her ear.

Tria took a step back and looked down at her, his features softened as he put the hypo away, “I know that you are going through a hard time. But you have to take care of yourself too. I don’t want to have you lying on a gurney as well, okay?” he said gently. ~Lying on a gurney hey! Tria, shut up!~ he told himself.

Kala shook her head. She knew better but right now… “I don’t care.” she said staring at the ground. “I don’t care if I live or die anymore. I just cared about Dhani. And now… and now.” she stopped, a lump sticking in her throat. “I don’t know how to go on without her.” she said her voice wavering as a tear slid down her cheek.

Tria bit his lip and sat down next to her. He wasn’t too sure of his approach… should he tell her off or console her? This wasn’t in the medical students’ handbook! He had lived several lives and he understood what she was going through but still he himself had never gone through this. A million different approaches played out in his head,

“Kala, I care.” he finally said.

Kala turned to face him. Again she reached out with her mind, trying to sense his feelings. They had talked so many times; in fact they had been inseparable for months, but lately he had distanced himself from her and she wasn’t sure why.

His eyes locked on to hers for a moment but he turned sharply and sat upright on the bench, “Your family care too.” he added.

Kala shook her head as he turned from her. Sighing inwardly she stared out across the open field before them. “They don’t care.” she replied.

“Oh?” Tria replied questioning with raised eyebrows.

Kala took a deep breath and looked at him, “Honestly?” she asked.

He nodded.

“My parents love my sister. Well my dad does. And I know what you’re gonna say, they love me too right?”

Again Tria nodded.

Kala frowned, “I know they love me, but… and I love Dhani too.” Kala added.

“But?” Tria asked leaning forwards and resting his arms on his legs, letting his hands dangle at the wrists.

“But.” Kala sighed not really knowing how to explain. “Dhani was their favourite. She was the one that was going to do great things. She was going to be joined and uphold the family name.”

Trias’ head tilted to one side as he turned to look at her, “But you don’t want to be joined. You hate Symboints and all they stand for.” he said slowly. As he finished his sentence he could have kicked himself. Looking down at the ground between his feet he smiled at his own revelation, chuckling he shook his head his blond curls bobbing slightly.

“It’s not that I hate them.” Kala corrected him, “It’s just that…” she paused not really knowing how to explain herself.

Tria smiled, “You don’t need to explain Kala. It’s simple.” He bent down and picked up a stone that shimmered in the sunlight.

Frowning at the back of his head, Kala took hold of the bench seat beneath her thighs, just feeling the wood beneath her fingertips, digging her nails into it, “Huh?” she retorted her face scrunching up.

“This is a clear case of sibling rivalry.” he said simply.

“No it’s not.” Kala insisted.

“Why are you getting uptight about this?” he asked turning his torso to face her fully, “It happens within every family. It’s nothing to feel bad about.”

“It’s not like that.” Kala protested.

Tria just looked at her. His expression said all.

Kala shook her head and remained silent. She huffed to herself. He didn’t understand. No one did!

Tria watched Kala from the corner of his eye as he rolled the stone between his fingers. “You lost your place didn’t you?” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Kala barley turned to him, just stared forward.

“Your father is a Trill, isn’t he?” Tria continued despite her silence.

Kala nodded.

“You get on well with your mother?” he asked already knowing the answer.

Again Kala nodded.

“What about your sister?”

Kala flinched slightly, “They got on okay I guess.” she replied.

“But not as well as you and your mother did?”

Kala shook her head.

“So I was right.” Tria stated flicking the stone across the grass.

Kala turned and frowned at him.

“You get on well with your mother, but not your father. That much is clear.” He said turning to face her. “Dhani got on well with your father but not your mother. Things like that often happen with in a family. It’s normal.” He reflected a moment on his past lives; the memories of raising families. It was so simple for him to unravel her feelings. This was one of the positives of being joined; the vast experiences of lifetimes.

Behind them Tanson walked out of the hospital and surveyed the grounds. His eyes rested on the pair talking on the bench. He rubbed his eyes and began to cross the grass.

Kalas eyes fell from Trias face and hovered over the bench. “Yeah.” she mumbled, “That’s it.” she said sullenly.

Tria smiled again, “No its not.” he stated, there was more to it. There always was.

“Dhani never tried to bridge the gap between her and mom, she never cared about it.” Kala explained as best she could.

As Tanson approached he stopped, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. He lingered behind them for a moment wondering if maybe he should keep walking and come back later. Maybe he should just wait in the foyer for her or something. Nodding to himself he turned and began to leave, but Trias voice carried and the conversation made him stop and turn back.

“But you do. You have been trying your whole life to be noticed by him, haven’t you?” Tria asked his voice full of understanding and compassion.

Kala nodded. Finally it seemed as if someone understood. She loved her sister and she never had a bad thought about her. But now it seemed as if the delicate balance had been tipped.

“You have tried to be as different from your sister as possible, to keep your individuality. And in doing that you have said that you hate everything she liked so that you could be different. And everything she did your father approved of. And so now you feel as if you have alienated him by stating that you dislike everything that she liked.” Tria said trying to be concise and put Kalas feelings into a nutshell,

“And now you have lost your place. Because deep down what you long for is his favour. As long as there was a discord between your sister and your mother it was okay, because Dhani wasn’t perfect. Now she has gone you don’t know how to fill the gap.”

Kala pouted, she tried to stem the tears that welled in her eyes. Sometimes she hated the way Tria took her life and mashed it on the table before her. He could see through her like glass and she hated him for that. She respected him too, but sometimes she couldn’t take the bleakness of the truth, sometimes ‘the water off a ducks back’ technique just didn’t work. She knew all this, deep down she already knew everything he was saying, because she felt it. But to hear it, to have it laid out before her was just too much to take, his words hurt her.

“You feel that because he had more in common with your sister that he loved her more?” Trias voice was soft. There was no indication of accusation in his tone.

Kala nodded. The dam finally broke, “He loved her more than me!” she blurted out, tears cascading down her face.

Tanson felt his heart lunge into his throat as he heard Kalas out burst. For a moment he stood rooted to the spot. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t have been listening. He should have walked away but….. it wasn’t like he was eaves dropping.

Tria took her hand, “Kala I’m sure that’s not true…”

“No it’s not!” Tansons voice interrupted him, he had meant to say that under his breath, ~Bugger!~

Tria turned sharply and stared in disbelief at Tanson. ~Oh crap!~

Kala turned and looked at her father. She stood up quickly, her hand slipping from Trias. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t intended for him to hear this. In fact she hadn’t intended to say any of this, to anyone.

Tria too stood up and bowed his head. For a moment he felt like a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But then he also had memories of these conversations with his children. He frowned to himself. The man standing before him who, for a minute, had seemed the intimidating adult was now almost child like. Tria mused at the conflicting emotions and memories he had. Being joined was interesting. He wondered when it would feel normal.

“Daddy, I’m sorry.” Kala whispered; her vocal chords had seemed to go on strike.

“Moon Beams”

Location: Leran Manev View Hospital.

Primary characters: Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe (APC)

Tanson Eshe (APC)

And Tria (NPC)

****

Kala nodded. The dam finally broke, “He loved her more than me!” she blurted out, tears cascading down her face.

Tanson felt his heart lunge into his throat as he heard Kalas out burst. For a moment he stood rooted to the spot. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t have been listening. He should have walked away but….. it wasn’t like he was eaves dropping.

Tria took her hand, “Kala I’m sure that’s not true…”

“No it’s not!” Tansons voice interrupted him, he had meant to say that under his breath, ~Bugger!~

Tria turned sharply and stared in disbelief at Tanson. ~Oh crap!~

Kala turned and looked at her father. She stood up quickly, her hand slipping from Trias. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t intended for him to hear this. In fact she hadn’t intended to say any of this, to anyone.

****

“Daddy, I’m sorry.” Kala whispered; her vocal chords had seemed to go on strike.

Tanson raised his hand to silence her. His face took on a stern expression. He was angry. But not with Kala, he was angry at himself for how he had made her feel. He shook his head slightly as he digested what he had heard.

Taking a tender step forward Tanson mulled over his reaction. He glanced up at Kala, unable at this moment to look her fully in the eye for any length of time. Turning from her, he sat down on the bench and rested his head in his hands. Frowning he tried to choke back the tears that were forming in his eyes and the lump that stuck in his throat.

Kala stood and watched her father as his expression changed from anger to hurt. She wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t intended for him to hear this, and here he was! She should be angry at him for eaves dropping, but right now she was more concerned for having hurt him.

Tria took a couple of steps backwards. Part of him wanted to advise Tanson, as a mentor would. He had the experience in dealing with things like this, many times, from both the perspective of a man and a woman. But he knew that in this body he still looked like a child. And he wasn’t sure of Tanson’s opinion on joined Trills, would he welcome the advice of the 100 year old slug? Or only see a 23 year old male before him?

Tria nodded to himself; sometimes a man should be left to make his own way. Looking back at Kala, who’s feet had become one with the ground, he smiled slightly, one of reassurance. He gently took hold of her upper arm, and in parting let his fingertips run down to her hand as he walked away. His presence wasn’t needed here anymore.

Kala stood rooted to the spot, her mouth had dried out and her body stiffened. She stared at her father till her eyes burned, looking for any sign that he was okay.

“Dad, I’m sorry.” she said again, not really knowing anything else to say. What else was there? She wasn’t sorry that she had said those things, she had needed to. But she was devastated that he had heard her. She never wanted to hurt him, ever. The tears stung her dried eyes.

Tanson patted the bench space next to him indicating for her to sit. He wasn’t sure what to say or do. Part of him wanted to hug her and tell her that he loved her but he knew that wouldn’t be enough. He had to give her more than that; he owed her more than that. He needed to explain things.

But where to begin?

A parents love for a child is equal. He loved Kala just as much as he loved Dhani, but in very different ways. Dhanishta was his first born. And Kala was the second. Even though there was only a miniscule time difference between the girls. There still was a difference.

“When your mother fell pregnant there were complications and she was very sick. The doctors said that the pregnancy should be terminated to save your mothers life.” Tanson started his eyes never leaving the toe of his boot.

Kalas eyes widened hearing this. Her parents had never told her this before. She fidgeted slightly on the wooden bench, wondering why her father was telling her this, and why now. Where was it leading?

“Kerenza refused to have the pregnancy aborted. And that was just before our assignment on Vulcan. The doctors tried to persuade your mother to stay in a Starfleet medical facility but she wouldn’t have anything to do with them. We packed our bags and headed to Vulcan, completely against Starfleet medicals advice.”

“What happened?” Kala broke her silence. She was intrigued, “Mom never told me this. She never let on that there were any problems when we were born.”

Tanson cast a glance towards the hospital where Kerenza sat with Dhanishta. It suddenly dawned on him just how much he and Kerenza kept from Kala and Dhani. He shook his head, “The ins and outs aren’t important.” he said quietly, “But several times Kerenza was hospitalised.”

As usual Tanson skipped the reasons for this, which he knew, and also the type of hospital Kerenza was admitted to. “Even up to the night of your birth we never truly understood the possible damage that had been caused, to you two, or your mother.”

“Why did mom insist on having us if there were problems?” Kala asked turning to face her father.

Tanson smiled slightly still looking at the hospital, almost as if he could see Kerenza through the walls, “She knew.” He turned to Kala his smile growing, “She just knew.” he said simply.

Kala frowned, she didn’t totally understand what he was saying, but decided not to peruse it. She would just let him talk. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to understand. She shrugged to herself.

Tanson took a deep breath, “As it turned out there were no complications during the birth itself. I remember watching it like it was yesterday.” his eyes glazed over slightly as he let the memory consume him. As he spoke his voice carried an air of nostalgia and awe, “It changes you.” he said simply as if Kala would understand.

He chuckled at the face she made, “Watching your child being born.” he elaborated, “It’s truly amazing. As I held you sister I remember looking down at her. So tiny and delicate, yet strong in her own childlike way. She was beautiful. I remember how I felt. I never wanted anyone to hurt her or you. I always wanted to be sure that you had everything you could ever possibly need. Even if it meant that I went without. As long as you had clothes on your back, food in your bellies and felt loved… I would go through anything, do anything.” he looked up at Kala wondering if she could ever understand. And knowing that she would, one day, just like he had these talks with his parents…. He had never understood them, until he had children.

Kala squinted as she looked at him, as if she was trying to see the explanation written in the air before her.

Tansons face fell slightly as he realised that maybe he had failed. But he perused anyway, “After Dhani was born the midwife handed her to your mother, and then me. She was wrapped up in a lace blanket that your mother had been given from one of her relatives. I walked out on to the balcony and looked up at the sky. It was littered with thousands of stars. As I held her she began to squirm… I remember looking down as she opened her eyes, and there, above us a shooting star fell from the sky. I watched it mirrored through her eyes. And I knew at that moment what we should call our first born daughter.” he looked up at Kala, “Star.” He said simply.

Kala frowned and shook her head, her forehead wrinkled and she leaned forward, “Dad I don’t un…” she stopped herself and leaned back, snorting air through her nose. It was obvious really; she had been right, dad did love Dhani more than her. And he took any opportunity to tell her about his wonderful daughter! She gritted her teeth and began to pick her fingernails.

Tanson noted her indifference at his story telling, but he wasn’t even close to half way through yet! He sighed as her posture shifted to one of reluctance and indifference. Maybe he should have gone with the first idea and tell her that he loved her and just simply hugged her. It was a bit late now though. He had started so he may as well finish.

“We had no idea that we were expecting twins, least of all identical twins. I know, I know, with all the technology around these days that sounds a little ridiculous doesn’t it?” Tanson nudged Kala, hoping to at least get a slight smile.

Kala looked up and rolled her eyes.

Nodding to her unspoken words of ‘get on with it’ Tanson continued, “After the Starfleet doctors had seen us and told us to abort the pregnancy Kerenza had a slight aversion to doctors. On Vulcan, although she was hospitalised several times, that was for other reasons. They weren’t fully equipped to deal with maternity issues.” He explained, “So by the time you were born, we weren’t sure what to expect. We had prepared for a still birth and when Dhani came out healthy and alive we were ecstatic.”

“And me?” Kala wanted to hold her tongue but the words just fell out of her mouth.

Tanson smiled widely, “When you were born,” he took a pause to find the right words. Tears welled in his eyes at the memory and slipped down his cheek, “Kala we were overjoyed.” his chin wobbled as he spoke, “To have two healthy babies after the hellish pregnancy was amazing.” he concluded.

As if caught by the memory Tanson continued, “I laid you down in the bassinet next to your sister and watched you both, for what must have been hours. We had no idea what to call you.” He chuckled slightly, “Kerenza came over and sat on my lap and together we stared at our little creations. Both just as scared and excited as the other. As the curtains fluttered in the breeze the moonlight streamed in through the window. And as it flowed over the crib, you opened your eyes and stared back at us. Even then I swear that you smiled. They say that new borns don’t smile, not until they are at least three months old. But I swear you did. And that’s when it came to us to call you; Chandrakala, it means moon-beams.” he looked over at her and smiled.

Kala smiled slightly at the anecdote, but it still didn’t change how she felt. She still felt like she was second best, compared to her sister, in her fathers’ eyes. Kala couldn’t pretend any more. They had come this far, it was time for the worms,

“I can’t believe that I’m jealous of her.” she said honestly. “She is my sister and we have a bond that is thicker than blood. We have a connection and I can’t even describe to you, or anyone. And I’m jealous of her…..and you!” There she had said it, finally after years of feeling this way she was confronting her father. And her sister lay in a coma, they had just turned off the ventilator this morning and here she was, her sister not even dead yet, and she was already bitching about her. What a bitch she was. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She never thought that anything came between her and her sister, and now all this. She felt truly wretched. And it didn’t matter what he said anymore. She was going to feel this hole and it was only going to get bigger the more they talked about this.

Tanson looked up, “Jealous, of me?” he questioned. “Why?”

Kala was furious with herself, “Because you loved her more than me.” she almost shouted. “She was the one that was going to become joined. She was the one that you were proud of. She was the one that you ran to hug. She was the one that you lit up for. She was the one that, that…” Kala lost her train of thought in her anger.

Standing up she realised that she was shaking, tears of frustration anger and pain flowing down her face like a water fall, “She was the one… the one that you tucked up at night, the one you told stories to… the one that….” her face scrunched up as she almost screamed. She couldn’t talk as the fit of tears took hold of her. She stood in front of him trying to keep any sort of composure, failing miserably.

Tanson chewed on the insides of his cheeks, not really knowing what to do now. Slowly he stood up and stretched his legs. Looking at Kala, her bottom lip so far over her top that it almost reached her nose, he almost laughed. Shaking his head he began to pace. Taking a deep breath he looked up at the sky, Kala stood watching him, he could hear her fuming as she trembled and jerked with the tears.

“Kala,” he began softly, “you probably won’t understand this. Not until you have your own children at least. But you have no idea what it’s like when one of your children falls sick. Little things don’t bother you much, cuts and scrapes heal. It still hurts when you see your child in pain, but you know that a cut will heal.”

Kala frowned, her body remained stiff as a board, but her eyes locked on to his form, watching him like a hawk as he paced.

“Do you remember when you were little, how sick your sister was?”

Kala nodded, “Dhanishta is my *twin* dad. Of course I remember.” her nostrils flared.

Tanson stared at the ground for a moment. Not even he and Kerenza had spoken about this, not since it happened anyway, “December, twenty-three fifty-six.” he said the date burned in his memory, “I took Dhani to a hospital on Vulcan for tests. Your mother couldn’t bear to go with me so I took Dhani by myself. I had to strap her to a bed. She was so tiny and so scared. Only three years old. She was so normal though, so normal during the day; bright, intelligent and happy. But the night; every night, she would fit. I couldn’t control her. I couldn’t help her.” he shook his head as he remembered, “And I was her father. I should have been able to. She was only three and she broke the restraints.” He glanced up at her, tears welling in his eyes; they dropped to the floor and into the dirt.

“I don’t remember the tests that they did on her. Hell, I don’t think I even understood them when they were performing them. But I remember her screams. I remember the day she stopped screaming. Stopped calling out for me…” a huge lump stuck in his throat, but he continued. His voice became hoarse and strained, “I also remember the look in her eyes after the first visit. And then there was the second and the third and …. The trust left her eyes, Kala. I took her every day to that place. I even left her there for weeks, for months. I knew that she hated it. I knew that she was hurt physically and mentally, and I let it continue. I told myself that I was making her better. Kala it took them six years and still they didn’t figure out what was wrong with her. She ended up in a coma. Do you remember that?”

Kala’s face fell. She remembered. She nodded slowly. They had not once spoken of this. Sometimes she thought that she had imagined it all. She remembered how Dhanis screams tore through the night. She remembered how her father bundled her into her mothers’ arms. And how her mother tried desperately to keep her focus away from the sounds as Tanson tried to soothe Dhani. Kerenza would read her stories, her tired eyes half closing as she did, jerking awake with every scream. She remembered how she had gone into her sisters’ mind, and was thrown across the room. She remembered it so well, like it was yesterday. For a moment she wondered why they had never spoken of it before.

Tanson swallowed hard, “I always wondered if she was sick because of me. Was I a bad father, did I do something wrong, was there a defective gene that I passed on? I beat myself up over that for years, and the guilt for taking her there. I thought I had lost back then. And we did lose a part of her. It started on that first day. She never came back whole. I tried so hard to rebuild the trust between me and her, and to this day I don’t think I ever have, not fully. And I don’t think that I can ever make it up to her.” he turned from Kala and tried not to let the pain and the guilt eat him, “I never intended to push you away Kala. And I’m so sorry if that’s the way I made you feel. I love you just as much as Dhani. I would die for either one of you. I just wanted to make up for all I took from her. She lost her childhood because of me and I …. I …” he stopped and sat heavily on the bench, “I’m the one that should be sorry Kala, not you.”

His voice was muffled by the hands that covered his face. Kala was speechless; she stood in shock watching her father, at a total loss of what to do.

Her face cracked. She finally had some understanding of why, but this small revelation couldn’t undo all the pain she felt, it couldn’t undo the past.

“But… Dhani was your star!” she said her chin wobbling.

Tanson choked, his own words used against him. His shoulders jerked as he began to cry.

Kala felt so much worse than when she had started this conversation. She didn’t want to cause her father any more pain. He was already loosing a daughter. She reached out to touch him but drew back. Stepping forward she reached out again, her had hovering above his shoulder, “Daddy… I’m sorry.” She could feel her nose dripping as the tears rolled down her cheek, “Daddy, I love you!”

Tanson looked up. Grabbing Kalas hand he pulled her on to his lap

“I love you too, silly girl!” he said through his tears.

Wrapping his arms around her he hugged her tightly rocking back and forth.

Kala buried her head into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.” she said again holding on to him as if she was never going to let go.

“There are thousands of stars Kala,” Tanson whispered in her ear, “but there is only one moon.”

"The Doctor's Desk."

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer

Lt. JG Dr. Jack Slen Pathologist and General Practitioner

Ens Deacon Starke Head EMT and Hazard Team Medic

Location: Klaus' Office

"I should have been aboard...Why wasn't I aboard...Why didn't I figure it out..."

Jack shook his head. "Klaus, Don't beat yourself up over this crap. Your help with the minefield got us out of there alive. Without that, chances are we'd all be dead, and millions more in some pointless war."

"Yea Boss, we did need the help, but it wasn't there. We made due, and we saved alot of lives."

Klaus seemed consoled...but it still hurt. It seemed like everyone wanted to pick a fight either with the Federation, or the Galaxy herself. He longed for a simpler Era, but simple times were something the weary doctor never had. Strife and pain throughout his career. One war, in the past, and one loomed in the future. The Burden could also be felt on his friends. Most of the crew he'd come to know since it happened.

"They all know what happened." Klaus said solemnly.

"Very Astute. But yea...that's a problem. The Cat's outta the bag. Whats our plan."

Deacon spoke up again. "How do you mean Doc?"

"What are we going to say when people ask!" Jack shot back, as if what he meant was obvious.

They looked at Klaus as he tapped on the desk. "The Truth. If people ask what happened, we tell them."

Jack nodded. "Yea, thats what I thought. Deac?"

"Yea, yea. I'll tellem I was running around dragging bodies and the injured to sickbay."

"Well, you Were Deacon." Klaus added, with a mostly neutral expression.

"Yea, but is that really the image I want to give the newer members of the crew?"

"They just said that over 16 THOUSAND starfleeters died. What do you think they'll think? They Died of old age?!"

"Yea...Whatever Doc." Deacon rolled his eyes like a kid.

Klaus added with a caring father-like tone. "You don't need to spare all the Details Deacon. Just don't hide anything."

"Ok, Boss. I get it."

"Then it's settled. No secrets, even if the admirality tell us otherwise."

Jack nodded, and Deacon merely said "O.K."

"Implications"

By Legate Kylar Curran
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

Appearances by:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer
USS Galaxy

Storl
Chief Aide to Ambassador-General Natasha Mol
Federation Liaison Corps

OOC: Bits of "Breaking News by Pat W. used.

*****

Kylar Curran's Quarters
Liaison Offices
Deck 42

Curran rubbed his temples.

Proctor was deliberately trying to provoke him.

First it was the morning mints, then the fresh orchid petals on her bed. The personal access to a holodeck for the duration of the trip wasn't enough; she had to have her own holo-emitter in her quarters for viewing of the latest in fashion or some such. He had fended off her inane desire to have a social gathering in 'honor' of sharing the ship with Jasmine Heloi, the 'best-damned singer-actress in the Federation!'

Now, it was the middle-of-the-night calls. There was no point to the calls. He could swear he even heard giggling at one point. A Starfleet Admiral giggling?

He'd just terminated one of said calls. She wanted new sheets for her bed. Satin this time. Just like last night. Now he'd have to requisition supplies to add the task to her maid's duties. As if the operations officer who had drawn that assignment didn't have better things to do. Like, make sure the shuttlecraft didn't stall in-flight. Or the EVA suits didn't have leaks.

There was no sense in going back to sleep now. Reaching over to the endtable, he flipped the switch that would activate the lighting manually. Using the computer every chance you could get was simple laziness. If you can do it yourself, do it.

Rolling back the sheets, he swung his legs over the side and took three deep breaths, gathering his thoughts and using the meditative techniques he'd relearned while on Kelva II last year during his sabbatical.

Blinking away the residue in his eyes that had accumulated over the last three hours of downtime (which was about the last time he'd received a call from Proctor) he pushed himself off the bunk and strode to his terminal to go over the feeds from the night before.

"Computer, activate feeds on audio." His throat was dry and chalky, resulting in a cracking of his voice. Human bodies were so frail, needing sleep. He could do so much more if he were free of this punishment. His reconstitution into the natural form of a Kelvan on Havras the year before was self-satisfying. If it weren't for the unintelligent transporter officer who had beamed him back to the ship using his human DNA in the patter buffer to reconstruct his molecules, he may have retained the form he cherished. And perhaps his keepers on Kelva II last year would have been more receptive to his requests.

The computer cycled through various Border Patrol reports - an outpost had been lost near the Hydran and Romulan borders. The Merrimack had been dispatched to investigate. The Gryphon Asteroid Belt was seeing increased traffic from outside the Federation. A Hydran Battlecruiser had been spotted in the region. A Miradorn carrier as well.

Diplomatic relations with the Ontailians were on the outs again. Starfleet had requested a return to Rashanar for various reasons he barely paid attention to, but were being denied access by said Ontailians.

Federation Day was announced to be taking place on Earth by President Bacco. The USS Miranda was on her way back to Earth to partake in the celebrations.

Trill was still listed as a disaster zone. More convoys were dispatched with medical aid. Between Trill and Tezwa, the Federation relief convoys were stretched thin. World rebuilding was a heavily plodding task. It was at least one thing the Federation does that gained his approval.

The next one caught his attention though, as he was splashing his face with cold water.

It started out fairly average. Curran kept tabs on the Federation News network, as its journalistic integrity was superior to all others. They managed to have an unparalleled grasp of Federation politics through its many notable contacts. Several Federation councilors and former presidential advisors have appeared on one of their programs - "Illuminating the City of Light" - in the past and been quite forthcoming in displaying the nuances of the activities at the center of the Federation government in Paris on Earth.

"Good afternoon, sentients of the Federation." the rather tackily-dressed reporter said as the holocams started running. "This is Breaking News. Your usual host, Emmett Bregman won't be joining us today. I'm Vera Donahue, and I'm filling in."

Emmett Bregman was a reporter station on board the Galaxy. Curran hadn't had the chance to interview him as yet, but he did keep a very close tab on his transmissions and wanderings amongst the crew. His name was the keyword that engaged the recording of the news article.

"We have today, one of the most shocking stories to ever be uncovered by the Federation News Service. According to information we've received from a source inside Starfleet, the government of the United Federation of Planets has been lying to us all. We have some logs from the Starship USS Arizona that we would like to show."

The Kelvan dabbed his face with a towel, casually strolling over to the terminal, tugging on casual-wear of loose-fitting clothes. He was just buttoning his top when the images came on the screen.

Before the first scene showing the mass destruction the two ships had endured completed, Curran was nailing a communication to Earth over scrambled frequencies to his supervisor, Ambassador-General Natasha Mol.

It took but a minute to connect with her offices. A haggard-looking Vulcan male answered the telecommunique.

[Legate Curran, the Ambassador-General is currently in a meeting. Is there something I may be able to assist you on?]

"I doubt very much you can assist...."

[Storl]. Behind the Vulcan, Curran could see personnel in a heat of activity moving about back and forth. Papers were being passed to the Vulcan. Must be an aide or personal secretary.

"I need to speak with the Ambassador-General immediately, Storl." Curran had tossed off his casuals and began donning his uniform.

[As do the majority of field personnel and Starfleet, Legate. She is currently in a meeting with President Bacco, Chief of Staff Pinero, Press Liaison Kant Jorel, Intelligence Liaison Holly Hostetler and Admirals Ross, Abrik and Akaar. She has left instructions that she will update all Diplomats in the field with the pertinent details when they are de-classified and made available. Now, I must tend to other matters. You will be contacted as soon as we are able.]

Before Curran could respond, Storl terminated the call, leaving the Federation logo on the screen as the telecast rolled on in the background.

"Bregman. He must be the security leak." Hurriedly, the Kelvan rushed out of his offices and straight to wherever the Captain was.

****

Captain's Quarters
Deck 5
USS Galaxy

Captain M'Kantu answered the persistent chime with mild annoyance. Being a Starship commander gave him very little downtime, and with the Rear Admiral on board just waiting to pounce at any given moment, Daren was left with even less opportunity to take time to himself.

So when he engaged the opening mechanism for the bulkhead and saw Kylar Curran leaning in the shadow of the doorway, he knew it was serious.

The Kelvan didn't wait for an invitation; he instantly entered the Captain's quarters and accessed his log records on the closest terminal. Any other person who did just that, and they'd find themselves at the end of a beratement worthy of a Tellarite.

M'Kantu instead, getting the feeling this was not something he wanted to argue the finer points of etiquette about, ordered a cup of the Tanzanian tea he lived by from his replicator. He thought of ordering something for the Kelvan, but he'd never seen the Kelvan drink. He instead had a second cup of tea replicated. If the Kelvan chose not to drink it... well, that's his choice.

He set the cup down on the table as the Kelvan inputted the last of his access commands on the terminal. He double-taked on the cup being set for him and raised an eyebrow.

"We have a situation that needs to be addressed, Captain."

As the images and sounds panned over the screen, the cup that had been risen to M'Kantu's lips froze in place as his eyes grew as wide as saucers.

When the scenes finished and the terminal faded to black, he set his cup down gently. He wrapped his robe around tighter.

"This is serious indeed." He tapped a few commands into the terminal. No messages waiting from Starfleet Command, which was a surprise considering his was one of the ships at Havras. Not even an order to return to Earth or Starbase for inquiry. Plenty of messages from the crew, all saying the same thing he was thinking. There was a security leak on the Galaxy.

"I've already been in touch with the Liaison Headquarters on Earth." Curran relayed the conversation he had with Storl.

"Emmett Bregman."

Daren was in contemplation, rubbing his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"There were a lot of ships at Havras, Legate. Anyone could have released the information."

"But it takes a certain level of access to get it off the ship, Captain. Bregman had a close relationship with Min Zife. Wouldn't take much to obtain the access codes to send a scrambled data packet to Earth with all the detail. A Starfleet officer of that level access could only be a Department Chief or Lt. Commander level or higher."

"There are elements of Starfleet that don't follow the same ideals as we do, Legate. I know you realize that." Curran felt a wave of nausea at being told he had anything in common with a human. "We need to get in touch with Captain Elaithin. His closer proximity to Earth may be yielding him more information."

"And what about Bregman?"

"Security will keep an eye on him. We'll bring him in for questioning if the need arises." M'Kantu raised a hand in response to Curran's rebuttal.

"Operations. Patch me a secure line to Captain Elaithin of the USS Miranda."

[Aye, sir]

"We shall get some answers, Legate. Hopefully soon."

[Proctor to Legate Curran. Where is my hot chocolate?] Curran clenched his fists while M'Kantu chuckled inwardly. At least there was something light-hearted amidst the severity of the day.

NRPG: Just in case people are wondering, this is NOT a plot-related post, but refers to the item of the events of Havras breaking to the public where it otherwise had been kept under wraps. Anyone is free to write their own perceptions of the news. It will have a bearing on future episodes and shape the universe we write in as will your reactions if you choose to write about it. Intel is free to pursue their avenues, and I actually encourage it. Contact Pat for details.

There are lots of things to write about if you can't get into the plot or are waiting on something. Just take your pick and run with it. No need to wait for us.

"Well, duh"

Lt. Ella Grey

***

"We have today, one of the most shocking stories to ever be uncovered by the Federation News Service. According to information we've received from a source inside Starfleet, the government of the United Federation of Planets has been lying to us all..."

Ella snorted as she cut off the annoying reporter with a command to the computer. What an idiotic thing to say, she thought as she curled up on her couch under a pink blanket.

Of *course* the United Federation of Planets had been lying to them.

Everyone lied about anything. Didn't need some stupid reporter to tell her that. The day this Donahue chick came on the air proclaiming that the Federation was the sqweaky-clean messiah of the universe, then Ella would take an interest.

Besides, she didn't need any more drama in her life. She was trying to keep things relatively simple: Going to work. Avoiding Romulan ale. Chipping through the wall that was Victor Krieghoff's brain, Ignoring her past. She really didn't want to have the dasterdly deeds of the Almighty Federation to have to think about too.

She told the computer to play some classical music and then got out her computer PADD to work on a design for a new model shuttlecraft.

OOC: Borrowing quite a bit of Pat's "Breaking News" post.

"Innocence Lost"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

Eytan stumbled into his quarters, stifling a yawn as he pulled off his uniform jacket and tossed it on top of a nearby chair. He looked at the time and shook his head. Normally he worked Delta Shift, but tonight he'd covered Gamma Shift for Tizarin instead, and it had screwed up his internal clock. He yawned again and had the computer start up his customary music as he made his way into the shower. It had been a long, slow, and very boring shift; at least two-dozen panicky crewmen who couldn't sleep had come to Sickbay claiming that something was wrong with them. Fortunately, none of them were suffering from anything that a good sleeping aid couldn't fix.

He finished up his shower and walked back out into the living area of his quarters, pulling on a pair of pants before sitting down and turning on the vid screen, deciding to check in on the news before getting some sleep.

"Good afternoon, sentients of the Federation." the rather tackily-dressed reporter said. Obviously this report had been recorded earlier. "This is Breaking News. Your usual host, Emmett Bregman won't be joining us today. I'm Vera Donahue, and I'm filling in."

Eytan started to wonder why he should care who was hosting or not, but then he realized that it was the news that actually mattered, not the glitzy faux-celebrities reporting it.

"We have today, one of the most shocking stories to ever be uncovered by the Federation News Service. According to information we've received from a source inside Starfleet, the government of the United Federation of Planets has been lying to us all..."

That made Eytan sit up. "What?!" he exclaimed, not believing what he just heard.

He watched as the horrible-looking newswoman was replaced by an external camera view of a starship. Donahue mentioned what Eytan was supposed to be looking at, but he was focused more on the images in front of him than the babbling coming from the woman. He watched as more ships appeared, followed by a huge, devastating battle that ended with a Galaxy-class starship colliding with a...he wanted to say T'Kith'Kin...ship. Over the imagery, Donahue talked about how the Federation ships were supposed to be on a diplomatic mission, and that the main party was captured during the battle.

When the camera left the horrible battle and focused on Donahue again, Eytan was actually relieved. He couldn't stand watching anymore of it; even the reporter was preferable to it. "This turns out to have been a hoax perpetrated by the former Breen General, Thot Gor, who assumed power during this incident. Now a dictator, "Aval" Gor is actually in alliance with the powers of the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans.

"The footage you saw previously was taken in the Havras at the time of this incident. It is of the 12th Fleet forcibly extricating the starships Miranda and Galaxy from where they were massively outnumbered.

"The Federation Council chose to hide this incident from he public at large, even though no less than twenty-nine Federation starships were destroyed, claiming a death toll of more than sixteen thousand. To put some more perspective on this, that is five thousand more people than were killed at the disastrous Battle of Wolf 359 by the Borg." Eytan frowned. He'd heard all about Wolf 359, and he knew firsthand that it wasn't even close to the kind of damage that the Borg could do if they were *really* upset about something. But then he had the benefit of growing near the Borg's main stomping grounds in the Delta Quadrant, while the Federation was far away from it all...

"This Reporter was astonished to discover that not only are there no less than three significant galactic powers pursuing hostilities against the Federation - we have been able to confirm reports of a significant number of border engagements with both the Breen and the T'Kith'Kin - but that the Federation Council has chosen to hide this information from the public for nearly a year, while Starfleet has been explicitly ordered not to increase it's defensive posture!"

Vera Donahue was certainly not the only person astonished to discover this. Eytan supposed that she could have just been acting, playing along to garner audience sympathy, but he didn't care. This wasn't at all like what he had been taught to believe. According to what he'd been told back on Voyager, the Federation was about as perfect a society as you could find in the galaxy. He'd thought that meant that there were no secrets, that there were no skeletons in the closet, that the citizens of the Federation weren't being lied to by the government they placed their lives and their trust in. ~So much for that,~ he thought bitterly.

"We will be running a--"

Eytan switched off the video feed, a look of disgust on his face. "What gives them the right to do this?" he demanded. He pushed himself back up to his feet and paced back and forth, frowning as he thought. "I thought the Federation Council was supposed to be working for the best interests of the people, not lying to them, not giving them a false sense of security while another damned war is starting!"

The Brenari stopped pacing and looked over at his discarded Starfleet uniform. Just looking at it now made him feel sick, and the thought that he had just been wearing it proudly no less than an hour ago made him feel even worse.

"Computer, end music. Lights off," he ordered angrily as he stalked into his bedroom. He stubbed his toe in the darkness, but he was too upset to acknowledge the pain right now. Eytan fell into his bed and looked up at the darkened ceiling. Finally he understood why so many people had been having trouble sleeping tonight.

"Plots and Pregnancy: Part 2"

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

Captain Atole Tekri, Tal'Shiar Agent

And Mika sh'Sonora, Hapless Schoolteacher

Location: Ten Forward, USS Galaxy

To say that the meeting was tense was an understatement.

James Lionel Corgan was facing one of the greatest decisions in his thirty some years of living. For the most part, the pivotal moments of his life were ones that he was swept into... the Borg Invasion, the Dominion War, the various peacekeeping duties on the Galaxy and the Battle of Havras... all beyond his control.

But then again, this was no ordinary moment.

James Corgan was pondering whether or not he had to take care of a small, unborn life still incubating in Atole Tekri's womb. A child that, though defying all logic but one, was supposed to be his. And if, somehow his sperm had the durability of Khan's supermen and the survivabilty of a Klingon deep scout, and even then if Romulan women came with a freezer in every uterus, then there wouldn't be any doubt whether or not the child was a result of genetic implantation (or, in another horrifying twist, another man, but for some reason James male pride couldn't see it happening).

On reflection, he couldn't see how the means would change anything. If it was still his child, whatever the method of conception, he had some serious decisions to make, and he wasn't sure that he had the knowledge (translated: maturity) to handle the the problem.

~"Damn her for forcing this issue!"~ James inwardly cursed, quaffing powerfully some alien beverage that was alot more powerful than coffee or synthale.

On another point of the triad, the group's lone outside observer was sipping a fruity alien drink from her home planet, giving a watchful eye to the other two at the table. She was pulled in by a connection to James; the current girlfriend.

Mika sh'Sonora was a practised diplomat, but every instinct was to walk over the table and throttle the both of them for such a stupid mistake. She knew, however, that she did not have all the facts. Nothing much added up, be it human/romulan conception, or the time it happened, or anything! She needed more facts before she could dole out punishment. Therefore, she sat coolly, sipping her drink, casting baleful eyes at the other two while staying in a serene, almost aloof aura of impending judgement.

Underneath, she was truely hurt. Atole Tekri partook from James something that she herself had yet to try, and doubted she could ever do.

~"Damn her!"~ Mika cursed to herself, while still staying calm on the outside.

Tekri was trying to stay calm as well - calm, that is, relative to her hysteria in the corridor earlier. The test results would no doubt come back soon from sickbay, and she would not be surprised if the result was artificial as she feared. James was right - the idea of natural conception seemed rather far-fetched, but Tekri could still hope (she wondered if he was as impotent as he claimed. As far as she knew, Terran sperm supplies were inexhaustible like most species, but - with the amount of woman James seemed to get through - one could never be sure.)

"So... still not going to tell us?" Mika broke the silence with her question, still very sure that Tekri was hiding something else.

"I've already told you, I don't remember," Tekri said, annoyed at Mika's scepticism of her story. "I hurt James, and he - unintentionally, I guess - traumatised me for months."

"Oh right." The former Andorian diplomat rolled her eyes most unprofessionally, "A blur as usual, between rolling in alien gutters and swilling ale as blue as my skin. From what I was led to believe, you were supposed to be slightly more intelligent than that."

"And as for you James..." Mika angrily growled at her boyfriend, "It does not speak well of your tastes in women, and makes me question why you are attracted to me in the first place."

"Dammit Mika, lay off." James sighed, wearying of Mika's constant assaults on his manhood, "I'm not trying to dry hump her on this table. I thought I was pretty clear that I didn't want her back. Why are you still on my case about it?"

"Because you didn't do a good enough job. If you made it clearer, would she be here?"

"Yesssss, she would still be here because clearly she has some serious issues if she has to use a pregnancy scare to win me back..."

"It's not a scare!"

"I know! And that's what makes it more f**ked up! I'm still not taking her back... i'm not taking you back by the way." James momentarily turned to Tekri, before going back on the defensive with Mika, "I'm not taking her back... so why are we arguing about this?"

"Because..." Mika's antennae started to sag and wilt disparagingly, "...as long as she's around, she's will always come between us."

Tekri barely heard the last statement, so irritated by the way this conversation was going.

On impulse, she turned towards James and slapped him. Hard. She then glared venomously at Mika before speaking.

"Let's make two things clear - one, just because I may have artificially impregnated myself, it does not automatically make me a fully-fledged stalker-psycho. Two - I believe the purpose of this meeting was to discuss the future of my impending child, not to have an adolescent quarrel about your relationship."

"I can't stand this," she muttered, still glaring at them both before calling to the nearest waiter. "At this point, I'm so stressed I'm past caring for the welfare of the baby. Waiter - get me the largest Terran whiskey you've got."

She turned back to them both in askance. "So, can we start this conversation again please?"

"Yes." Corgan testily grumbled, "Waiter, hold the damn whiskey. I'll be damned if my kid gets FAS. And about that slap... don't do that again. Ever. Clear? And try not to comment on OUR relationship when you clearly have no place in it anymore. What Mika and I argue about is our business. Ok?"

Tekri reluctantly nodded, calmed down by her sudden outburst.

"Now you wanted to talk about the child's future?" Corgan rose up like an oncoming thunderstorm, "Then here is what I see. The means of your pregnancy matters not when faced with the fact that this child will not have a stable family to stay with. By that I mean his or her mother and father in the same home. Clearly that is not happening, so we have a serious problem. What are we to do about it again?"

"The child will be brought up at my family estate back on Romulus-" Tekri started to say.

"That's the problem I see." James interjected, "The child won't have a proper father, since I'm still going to be galavanting across the stars on this ship. You don't plan on raising the kid, but instead plan on staying with the Tal'Shiar while your parents have to raise the kid. Right?"

"Yes it will have a father figure. The child's grandparents will be able to serve excellently in a mother-father role."

"Then tell me this Atole... how do your parents feel about it? From what you told me of them, I doubt they will like the idea of raising a half romulan, half human bastard while the mother and father go about their separate careers. And since your relationship with your parents is... cordial with an undercurrent of rebellious tension, I doubt they will raise the kid in a warm and loving family environment. That is my concern."

"Not quite, James," Tekri said. "The baby should have enough Romulan features to just about pass for a Rihannusu, saving my family any embarrassment. My wealthy parents can give the child everything he or she needs-"

"While still having to hide the fact that the child is half human? That is no way for a child to live, so I have an alternative. I'm willing to take responsibility." Corgan blurted out, "Even if the kid is artificial. I'm willing to raise the child... on the ship if need be."

The choice, though at the time seeming to be out of the blue and impulsive, was in fact more deliberately thought out than even James could give himself credit for. In his face he showed more maturity, finally grasping the seriousness of the crisis and coming up with what was to his code of honour the only ethical answer he could give.

He could actually raise the child.

Fast in deciding, but James knew himself that he would have come to the same conclusion given months of preparation.

"One of these years, though I didn't anticipate it would be this soon, I thought of raising children." He gave a glance at Mika, who was not looking at her boyfriend with a look of advent shock, transfixed on his words as if they were a sermon, "And I always thought that if I wanted to raise children, I would raise them on a starship. Sure, it is dangerous... my job is dangerous enough. But I was raised on a starship, and I can attest to this when I say that being on a starship was the most wonderful, memorable, greatest part of my childhood. Playing hide and seek in the halls of the ship, my first time in zero gravity, all those interplanetary stops, the starfields and spacial phenomena outside the portholes... it was something special."

Corgan turned his attention to Tekri, and spoke whistfully, "If you want, I can raise the child here. He... she... whomever... would have a good life here. None of the prejudices she would face on either Earth or Romulus... she'd be a spacer like the rest of us. And I can promise you that the child will never want for necessities or attention, for I am not poor and I will be close by. The child will... have a good life with me, I promise you."

Tekri looked at Corgan in surprise - she wouldn't of thought he had the courage or maturity to say something like that, and it just made him an even more attractive mate than before.

However, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind, and focused on what he had just said.

"Look, James," she said, smiling at him genuinely and warmly. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm not sure I can accept. I'm sure you will make a great father one day, but if you raise the child here - how will I ever see it? Having my parents raise the child on Romulus is far from ideal, but at least I could see it from time to time. I expect this will be the last and final time I am ever allowed on the Galaxy, so agreeing to this would mean never seeing my child - and I'm afraid I can't do that."

Mika cut in, "We have visitation laws in the Federation. Use them to your advantage."

James looked at his girlfriend, surprised to see her helping her nemesis, "Mika?"

Nonchallantly, Mika shrugged her shoulders, "I have a post doctorate in Political Sciences. The curriculum also involved Federation Law."

James came back to Tekri, "No matter where the child goes, we would have to work that out. If the child is mine, I would like to see it too."

"Of course," she said, hesitating for a second before continuing. "Look, James, I'm rather surprised you're even interested in this child at all. I mean, you were running away from me at transwarp speeds, so it's just odd..."

~"Not entirely true..."~ James thought, the disappointment hanging in the air like a thick fog, ~"We had to stop... I had to stay away so that you would too."~

"And," Tekri gestured at Mika. "James, you've obviously moved on, forgotten me, and are enjoying your life. I guess I always assumed my parents would care for the baby, since I doubted you'd be interested."

"Anyway," she said. "Like Mika said, I suppose I could visit the child here. But shouldn't a mother have more immediate access to the child than the father? It seems appropriate, since the child in question is inside my womb now."

James nodded his approval, "Yes. You have a good point. But the option is open to you, Tekri. I wish we could do better... the child deserves better than two separated parents, but we can work something out. We owe the child that much."

~"We owe the child more than we can give..."~ Corgan thought, ~"And what that child deserves is a mother and a father together, and that is something it will never have. I do wonder, how many childhoods have been turned upside down due to the selfish decisions of an adult? How many divorces or breakups kept a child's parents away from each other when that kid needed them both to be together? How many couples have forgotten to love each other, lost their love, changed or just mistaken love for more selfish urges, only to find that they could not be together when it was too late, when there was a child involved? How unfair it must be, to be a child born from these relationships, from adults who didn't think carefully enough to see that they could do harm to one of their own all for an unfulfilled desire or impulsive, short term gain of affection?"~

~"To this child, I would have to say sorry. For Tekri's desparate attempt to win me back, and for myself for giving into lust when discretion would have been more appropriate... all those months ago... i'm sorry. These selfish actions mean that you will not have the normal childhood you deserve."~

=/\="Commander Corgan, Captain Tekri, please report to sickbay."=/\= The computer ordered, breaking James out of his thoughts.

Tekri sighed nervously. "Let's go," she said with a tense nod, and the trio left Ten-Forward. Tekri remembered the last time she had left Ten-Forward with James to try his absinthe in his quarters - it had been under very different circumstances. Sadly, those days had past - and she would have to face up to reality now.

"Fanatics"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

Ensign T'Ashaya
Operations Officer

It was the beginning of another, normal work day. Saul woke up early, for the first time since he clashed with Cora.

Even though the corridors' artificial illumination kept the same intensity and brightness levels throughout the day, there was a special feeling about early morning. If Saul closed his eyes, he would almost feel like the early sunrises on the boot camp on Utrecht III. It was almost good enough to convince him to start coming to the CIC early, but just almost.

He smiled at the people who passed by him, waved at one or two he knew by name. Their faces were just swift brushes of color to him, as he moved forward quickly. He almost missed her because of this lack of attention.

The scratch of his heels echoed through the corridor. He stumbled, then turned around and gazed at the back of the other officer. From here, he could notice that both her collar and her hair were golden.

"Excuse me Ensign, I have a rather dumb question."

The tall Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow as she looked at the man clad in the black uniform of Starfleet Intelligence. He out-ranked her, but that was hardly unusual. Nearly everyone aboard the Galaxy outranked her. She chose her words most diplomatically "I would think that, in your profession Lieutenant, you would live your life by the philosophy that the only 'dumb' question was the one that remained unasked. How may I assist you?"

Inwardly, she hoped he wanted to ask for a requisition for extra power for some hobby of his, or perhaps wanted to ask if her hair were naturally blonde. She hoped he wasn't another fan-boy. She'd had the experience of one during her training at Starfleet Academy. It had been, she stumbled mentally as she tried to find the right word before settling on unpleasant. Of all the things in the world T'Ashaya needed, she didn't need a superior officer, intelligence officer, fan-boy stalking her aboard the ship.

It would make things. . . difficult.

Saul brushed the back of his head with his fingers, inwardly praying he wasn't making a fool of himself. "Is there any chance that you competed in the Federation Olympics?"

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Not again. Please, not another illogically obsessed human fanatic. Perhaps, she thought, if she played it cool. . . he would go away. "I have competed in a wide variety of events," she stated in the most neutral of tones, tones she knew very well that most humans considered icy at best. Vulcan, a planet of deserts, known best for men of logic and women made of the coldest ice. That was the image and T'Ashaya now found it advantageous to maintain it.

"Is that so?", Said the Intelligence lieutenant, making a statement more than asking a question..

She suppressed the urge to add even a hint of a smile to the statement. Nothing friendly, she reminded herself. Pure, ice cold statements. Nothing more. The gentleman in the academy had been hard enough to dissuade because she had given him the barest hint of a smile. It had taken asking Sef for a favor, the favor of paying her a visit and playing the, if one could use the word of a Vulcan male, jealous fiancée.

T'Ashaya wasn't taking any chances this time. She didn't care to have to impose on Sef in such a way ever again. Such things also made things difficult, though in different ways.

"If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I will be late for an appointment," she lied, hoping to excuse herself from the situation.

"I'm not going to slow you down... but if you don't mind the company I would love to escort you to the meeting place. Plus, you didn't answer my question, and you know the joke about the curious Intelligence officer."

"As I understand jokes, Lieutenant, a curious intelligence officer hardly seems to fit the definition," she replied plainly, "though, as I understand it, Vulcans, as a race, do not possess a sense of humor and thus my understanding of jokes is severely limited." She took a turn toward the holosuites and away from her actual destination, the cetacean labs.

Saul rolled his eyes, but didn't give up following T'Ashaya. The truth was, there was no joke about a curious Intelligence officer - none that he knew of, at least. But he didn't expect a Vulcan to know anything about jokes, as the golden-haired Vulcan sagely indicated.

This particular pathway through the ship would take her particularly close to several of the conduits Lt. Commander Hwii' used regularly. T'Ashaya hoped she would be able to locate Commander Hwii' in one of his corridors. Her own command of the dolphin language was still remedial, but she knew the word for shark attack and it fell easily within the range of the Commander's language that she, as a Vulcan, could easily reproduce. She hoped signal to the commander that she needed his assistance with this particular shark. Luck, however, seemed to be something she lacked this particular day.

She turned the next corner sharply and came across an intersection she didn't know. It varied from the as built plans and the original plans. T'Ashaya paused and got her bearings before choosing a direction and continuing to walk. She didn't like the way the morning traffic thinned out of the corridors, so she took another turn at the next corridor hoping to find her way back to more populated parts of the ship. The strategy did not seem to be working. T'Ashaya felt certain that if she were out surfing today, the surf would be all buggery and hardly worth the effort.

"I must be taking you out of your way," T'Ashaya finally stated. "Perhaps it would be more logical for us to part ways at this time. I must be keeping you from some important intelligence duties." She did not add her thoughts on the matter, that she found him just vaguely creepy, however illogical it might be to do so.

Saul, of course, knew to take a hint, but her behavior also affirmed his suspects. It was HER, alright.

"I just wanted to say, T'Ashaya, that you broke my heart on the 2376 Olympics - I wanted Emma Von Kloeten to win so much, and if not for that amazing stunt you pulled on that final leg, she would've brought the golden medal back to Amsterdam... other than that, have a good day."

Saul flashed her one of the infamous Bental grins and turned to leave.

It's not every day that a sports fan gets to give his opinion to the Olympic superstars. He resolved to check how comes the Olympic champion - which he only saw on Holovids up until now - ended up on the Galaxy, but figured it would be easier for him to check out the files instead of asking her directly.

"I do not normally feel it necessary to discuss my past accomplishments, but you are mistaken in your analysis, Lieutenant," she corrected quietly. "I am not alone in the assessment that, while Emma is a good surfer, she does not ultimately have the mental focus necessary to win the gold medal, given that particular field of surfers. Before it was resided by the Federation Olympic Council that I could not compete as a representative for Earth in 2372 games, Emma were on the same team. The fact that my lackluster performance in 2376 raised the bar enough that the best Emma could do was bronze should attest to that fact. I see no shame in Lyriana Ullett of Delta taking the gold that year, save my own lack of concentration and preparation."

Saul spun sharply to face her. "I don't agree that technique or mental focus had anything to do with that specific result. Sure, the three of you were better than the rest by far, but Emma was in da groove... I'm a novice when compared to you girls, but I've surfed enough to know that even the best surfer can't control the winds and the waves, and Emma just didn't get... lucky. She was gold material alright."

T'Ashaya raised an eyebrow at the Lieutenant's sudden, to her way of thinking, outburst. She thought it hardly worth the effort to correct him further, given the amount of emotion with which he responded. It seemed as if he were defending a family member and not speaking of a perfect stranger. T'Ashaya considered asking him about it, but decided it was impolite.

"I'll be certain to convey your vote of confidence to Emma the next time we correspond," she replied politely. The Vulcan Tsunami made a mental note to include a retelling of this particular incident in the next message she sent back to earth. Emma would likely get quite the kick out of the story, but Emma always did enjoy the limelight more than the sport itself.

Saul looked somewhat surprised, then beamed at her. "That would be... nice... well, we must be closed to your meeting place, so I'll leave you to it. And - It's an honor to have such an excellent sportswoman aboard.", He added, bringing his left index finger to his forehead in a loose salute.

At that, T'Ashaya almost frowned. "I would have hoped you would have preferred having an excellent officer aboard," she stated, sounding almost disappointed. At that, she caught sight of a more certain source of excuse to bow out of the situation. She returned his salute crisply.

"Excuse me, please, Lieutenant," she stated. The Vulcan woman took off at a graceful, and yet somehow undignified seeming, dash down the corridor.

"Jazz!" She shouted, trying to catch the chief science officer's attention. Her voice seemed much less formal, much less strained. "I'm sorry, I'm late." The chief science officer smiled at the young operations officer and waved. The two walked off together.

Saul watched the pair of celebrity Starfleet officer leave, the smile still smeared on his face. He was serving on the same ship with T'Ashaya, the Vulcan tsunami, two times gold medalist of the Federation Olympics! That alone was worth four years of Starfleet academy.

"Dead in the water"

By Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Operations Officer

Ensign T'Ashaya of Vulcan, Operations Officer
USS Galaxy - A

**** Deck 11 , Swimming Pool Area ****

"Damn it...." Jamson murmured while slowly pacing in the water. Children of various races were swimming around him, splashing and enjoying themselves, unknowingly interrupting his peace and denying the quiet and tranquility he was so longing for. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but found it impossible to concentrate while the infants made such a commotion around him. And it wasn't just the kids, but the water as well. Michael, although Terran, was never attracted to water and anything related. He preferred solid earth and soil to liquid and fluids. There was nothing better than the feeling of solid land and dirt under one's foot. The laugher and joy coming from the infant's direction caused the brave champion to mutter once more as he slowly made his way from one side of the youngling's pond to the other. As gallant as Jamson was, swimming was a difficult and challenging endeavor for him. The mere concept of swimming through deep water made him think twice and shake as a frightened Targ'. Still recovering from his latest injury at the holodeck, as a result of several fierce battles against Reman troops, Jamson did as he was ordered by Ensign Lias - and performed physical therapy exercises. He was lucky enough to avoid a reprimand for disengaging the holodeck safety protocols, but suffered a serious injury to his left leg, which was caused by a Reman blade. T'Ashaya finally managed to pry herself away from a small group of school aged children who she had been indulging with stories of surfing and raucous games in the pool. She could not see any logic in turning away curiosity in youth, as much as she disliked the attention and the distraction from what she had hoped would be a quiet swim. Besides, given her own situation, the children of others were likely the only children she would be able to encourage in curiosity.

More importantly, she'd been encouraging the children to pursue a level of horseplay their parents didn't really seem to like or approve. What had started as a neatly organized game of water polo had turned into little more than a free for all with children diving, splashing and dunking each other. They were, after all, children, and children in water. Organizing them into strictly governed little teams was, quite frankly, completely contrary to nature and thus, to T'Ashaya's way of thinking, completely contrary to logic.

To that end, she'd thrown out the rules and created new ones, more suited to the nature of the situation. Treat everyone like you want to be treated, so if you don't want to be splashed or dunked, don't splash or dunk anyone. If someone says no, then don't because you'd want them to leave you alone if you asked for it. If the lifeguard tells you to do something, do it. There hardly seemed a need for more rules than that.

The ball became a toy once more and someone's mother had produced weighted rings, as well, for the children to dive after. The children invented their own game after that, one involving throwing the around ball, diving for rings, an swimming through people's legs. The rules of the game, if one could use such a structured word for such loose guidelines, followed the child-logic of continuing the game rather than competing to win.

In short, the Vulcan Tsunami left chaos in her wake.

She'd only had to eject one bully for everyone to 'get it.' The boy, large for his age and a bit plump on top of it, had returned contrite after a short stay out of the water, which he'd spent standing at the edge, begging to get back in on the fun. After that, there were no more problems.

Still, there was the matter of the gentleman struggling in the deeper part of the shallow end, where the water came up to his chest. T'Ashaya considered saying nothing to the gentleman struggling in the pool, not wanting to embarrass him. The fact was she'd been watching the gentleman for some time in case he ran into real difficulty. He seemed less at home in the water than the average Vulcan. In other words, he looked to have all the buoyancy of a stone.

Finally, she couldn't bear watching him struggle any longer and she approached him. As she got closer, she could tell he was human. The scent was unmistakable.

"You seem uncomfortable," T'Ashaya stated, coming up to him. "You should relax. You have nothing to fear. Human beings are naturally buoyant in water." "I've never been a creature of the ocean..." Jamson tried to ignore the pretty blond officer. He didn't know if she was mocking him, or simply teasing him. It didn't matter so much, since he didn't recognize her as a member of the crew. But after all, he didn't recognize 70% of the crew members since his return, so she could have been on the Galaxy for quite some time. "That does not mean that you cannot learn to be comfortable in the environment," T'Ashaya chastened gently. "I hate water! I'd prefer zero-g gravity training to swimming..." he stumbled and almost fell. She was distracting him, whether it was with her looks or stunning blond hair, or just for the sake of helping him.

T'Ashaya reached out and steadied the man, more from an instinct to protect than from reason. Had her choice been one of reason, she would have been prepared for the raw emotion upon contact. Despite her childhood on Earth, of late she'd become quite accustomed to everyone, even the children, treating her with kid gloves and maintaining their distance. In short, she'd become accustomed to being treated like a Vulcan.

The force of emotions shocked her. Fear. Anger. Frustration. She stumbled backward from him like she'd touched something hot. Unable to keep her footing the Vulcan Tsunami fell gracelessly into the water, making a splash much like the wave that gave T'Ashaya her nickname in the sporting world.

She struggled to her feet and attempted to push her disheveled hair into some sort of order. That proved useless, so she arched backward to dunk her hair once more. This time her hair fell neatly behind her as she straightened up. She pushed a few stray red-gold locks behind her ears and returned her attention to the gentleman.

"Are you alright? Are you in need of further assistance?" T'Ashaya asked, almost sounding concerned. The expression on his face indicated to T'Ashaya that something might yet be wrong with him, or he might just be dumbfounded. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the male of the human species. "You're...Vulcan?!" Michael noticed her pointy ears. He was astounded, she didn't behave like the regular pointy eared freak, she actually had a sense of humor! That was weird yet quite peculiar. You don't usually run into comical Vulcans, and at the swimming pool, none the less! Vulcans live on planet with great deserts, vast dunes, huge rocky mountains and marvelous fire plains. How could she even think of swimming? "I see you, like most of your race, are a master of the obvious," T'Ashaya replied dryly. At least he wasn't asking for her autograph. For an instant her mouth quirked into a wry half-smile. It might have been a trick of the light. "I just find it odd....that Vulcans have a sense of humor, and can swim..." He stuttered. He thought he caught a grin, but wasn't sure. He never had much love and compassion towards Vulcans, although he did admire their emotionless behavior and basically their strict discipline regarding sensations and feelings. It was something to strive for, but on the other hand, imitating Klingons since childhood never gave him the luxury of hiding emotions, it was a big part of his life. This, along with his human side taking over his personality as years passed by, only contributed to the conclusion he had to display his feelings, now more than ever.

"Vulcans can learn to swim like members of any race, though there is not much need for the skill on T'Khasi. The wetsuit helps with buoyancy issues," she explained. "As for a sense of humor, I do not know what you are talking about. Vulcans, as a race, do not have any sense of humor. You can find that fact documented in the Encyclopedia Galactica and as we all know; if it is in the Encyclopedia Galactica, it is undisputedly true."

"I tend to question facts before embracing them, not like orders. Maybe you don't have a sense of humor...but a hard case of sarcasm, or even satire?" he replied and continued. "And as for Galactica...there's a human expression, that I'm not sure you've heard before, being Vulcan, 'Don't believe everything you read'" he returned the favor.

She looked at the gentleman closely, as if inspecting him and changed the subject. "If you do not like water, what you doing in the pool? Would it not be more logical to refrain from placing yourself in this situation?" "It is not my idea of fun...or logic," he explained and sighed. "So then, why are you in the pool?" T'Ashaya asked. "Even a human like yourself must understand that it is generally illogical to go someplace one doesn't want to be."

Was that a hint of teasing in her voice? Could Vulcans actually tease? "I was injured at the holosuite..." He said proudly and presented his newly added scar by pulling his left leg gently out of the water. Although his injury was quite severe, the scar wasn't such a bad sight thanks to the 24th century dermal regenerators. "How?" she asked. "There are safety protocols to prevent injuries in the holosuite." "I fought Reman warriors at the Volcano of Kri'stak!" he stared at the water "They fell one by one, unworthy of me even mentioning them". He relived the battle in his mind, and could feel the burning sensation of the volcanic ash, the thin hot air which made it extremely hard to breath, the clashing of swords and the crying of battle. "At the heat of the glorious battle, my comrades were gone...I let my guard down and was overwhelmed by too many of them" He snapped out and added "I should have lowered the difficulty level". "You shouldn't have tampered with the safety protocols," T'Ashaya stated. This time she made no effort to hide the inflection in her voice. It said she thought he was lacking in intellectual capabilities, or perhaps just a child. Michael was stunned once more. She was patronizing him, just like a typical Vulcan. He was commanding starships and saving the universe before she even thought of joining the Academy. This again, was one of these terrible moments he dreaded from. He used to wear 4 pips, which meant honor, discipline, duty. Now again, he felt dishonored, pathetic, insignificant, a puny lieutenant. His normal reactions would demand retaliation, but his latest sessions with Karyn, the Chief Counselor and long time friend started to bear fruit. He would not turn to anger and loss of control, but instead, to something that a Vulcan could actually appreciate - Logic.

"True..." he confessed in agony. "But what would be the point?" he asked. "What would be the point of hunting and killing, without the real sense of danger? the rush? the blood pumping so strongly through your entire body? the excitement? it would all be gone..." he tried to explain. "What is the point in the first place?" T'Ashaya replied. "It is all just a simulation. None of it is real. Your 'glorious enemy' is just the computer, a partial artificial intelligence, nothing more. No matter how many protocols you turn off and how much programming you do, you're still just setting up half-armed tin soldiers and knocking them down. I fail to see how that gets the blood pumping. I would have been impressed if you had gotten your scar doing something real, even if were just road rash from some half thought out childhood attempt to do a 520 in the local gully with your bike because you were trying to teach yourself the trick."

He would refrain and restrain himself from dunking her in the deep water. Retaining his urge to strangle the green blooded Vulcan, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and repeated the same words in his mind over and over again 'serenity now...serenity now'. "There is no logic in fighting toy soldiers, even virtual, when the safeties are on! For every action, there's a reaction! The protocols do not provide reactions...they deny penalties and sanctions."

"True, but removing the protocols does not change the fact that you're still just fighting toy soldiers, as you called them, in the first place. You're an adult and what you've done there is not a war scar," she pointed to the scar he seemed so proud to show off. "You've done nothing but cut yourself with playing with a dangerous toy. As an adult, you should be ashamed of that, not proud."

"I guess you'd have to be a Klingon to understand...I'm sure even a Romulan would agree," he threw he last remark. Obviously, she failed to understand that there was no real logic behind such actions, but pure passion caused by strong emotions. The majority of Klingons do not think first, they act, then look back, and even if they were wrong, they wouldn't accept it and try to prove otherwise. It was all about ego, 'showing off' as she stated, not logic and common sense.

"Obviously you have a lower opinion of both Klingons and Romulans than normal for a man of your," T'Ashaya paused, seeking for the correct word. Her voice was cold, devoid of anything when she finally finished her sentence with the word "ambitions."

She wondered just how much the man knew about Vulcans, or Romulans for that matter. Did he know there were some who believed the Romulan's name for themselves traced to an ancient Vulcan word meaning "outcast?" Did he understand that there were some that believed her to be no better than a Romulan in the first place? The rejection by her childhood bondmate was simply the icing on the cake, as the expression went.

At least for now, Sef was willing to maintain the charade that they would officially formalize their union at some point in the undetermined future. It was, after all, only logical because it was mutually beneficial. What would happen to her when the time came, as she knew it would inevitably would, when they could no longer maintain such appearances? What would life be like when everyone knew she had failed not only as a Vulcan, for her path of logic did not precisely match the path of logic followed by Surak, but ultimately as a woman because her childhood bondmate did not find her desirable? She would be, as the phrase went, dead in the water.

T'Ashaya did not care to contemplate it. Not until it actually happened, at any rate.

She walked to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out of the water. "I would rather be in a real place doing real things than playing warrior in a box that can do nothing but give you simulated experiences." As she pulled herself out of the water the shorty wet suit she wore shifted, revealing a ragged patch of paler skin on the back of her thigh, it was tanned, but still greenish, obviously reasonably fresh scar tissue. She adjusted the suit unconsciously, pulling it down for comfort, bringing it out of the unknown it seemed to be bunching into.

'She's doing it again' Jamson thought as he watched her walking away. He was furious but tried to hide it. She left him there stranded, with his mouth 'open', tongue rolling out. She didn't stay to finish the so called 'fight' which was nothing more than a regular friendly disagreement. "Vulcans...." he whispered quietly and returned to his business. He wanted to prove her wrong, and even though this seemed to be the end of the fight, Jamson sensed there would plenty others. This one was...a strong adversary.

Without further comment, T'Ashaya padded over to a nearby lounge chair. She deftly stripped out of her wet suit there, revealing a two tone green one piece racer's bathing suit underneath. She had several similar patches of skin on her body, the back of the one thigh, clear up to the high cut leg of her suit, along the elbow to the shoulder on the same side of her body, a similarly fresh pucker under her collar bone, three inches from the hollow of her throat. She toweled off efficiently, as if none of these scars existed, then picked up an honest to goodness book which had been sitting under the towel, out of harm's way, and began to read.

The well battered soft cover's title read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." Someone had added the words "Don't Panic" in large, friendly, red letters. Perhaps, she thought, she should not have been quite so hard on him. Perhaps it had only been the shock of being exposed to such strong emotions speaking, and not her more rational mind.

Perhaps, she thought, the guy's just a butt head and deserves the reprimand on his record that will surely follow once command gets wind of his tampering.

After all, those altered protocols were going to show up on some operations officer's report sometime. T'Ashaya figured it might as well be hers. She made a mental note to go digging for them on her next duty shift. The found the thought pleasantly distracting as she settled into the lounge chair and began, as always, to pretend to read.

"Dealing with the Family"

by Lt. Jasmine Heloi
Chief Science Officer & Vanguard XO

& Dr. Reanna Heloi
Jasmine's Mother & Aduras' Town Healer

--- Jasmine's Quarters

Jasmine glanced at the ceiling of her quarters and prayed for the strength to continue to deal with the torrent of words pouring from her mother's mouth. Ever since the Vera Donahue "incident," as she was now referencing it, she had been contacted by almost all of her family members – close and estranged – as well as a slew of reporters, her 'fan club' and, surprisingly, her old talent agent. All, save for members of her close family, had fallen out of contact with her over the past several years. Admittedly, being an officer in Starfleet tended to remove one from such contacts as she had 'enjoyed' in her days on 'Starfire.' However, that did not mean that everyone had to 'crawl out of the woodwork' to either a) make sure she was well (as if they wouldn't know by now) or b) get a quote about Donahue's report. It was enough to make even the most patient of Betazoids (or even Vulcans) want to scream.

"I'm *fine,* Mother," Jasmine repeated in a tone of voice that she hoped would deflect her mother's rant into something more useful. 'Like her signing off,' a traitorous portion of her mind snidely commented. "Nothing happened to me. See? I'm in one piece. You don't have to worry." She gestured towards her obviously uninjured torso and smiled.

Reanna Heloi's image on the terminal screen frowned, "I'm your mother, Jasmine, and it's my job to worry. You didn't even tell us that you were in any danger." Her mother managed that tone of hurt disappointment quite well. Perhaps it was from her mother that she had caught her flair of drama. Reanna was certainly over-dramatic enough for it.

"Mother, I'm a Starfleet officer. Of course there's going to be danger! For crying out loud," Jasmine caught her mother's wince at the human term of phrase, "I can't be kept wrapped in feather lilies whenever my ship goes onto a new mission. It just wouldn't be right." Why was it that whenever she was contacted by her mother they tended to fight more often than not? Vaguely she wondered if every woman had to go through this particular phase in parental relationships or if it was just her that was so 'blessed.'

"You could always go back to acting. You were wonderful at it, my dear. I know a number of networks that would jump at the chance to get you as their new lead actress. Perhaps you could base yourself off of Betazed. You could even see Heran again, you know he so misses you," Reanna offered, already planning for her daughter's triumphant return as a heroic Starfleet officer who decided to hang up her badge for acting once more.

Heran Dalek. There was another token nudge from her mother to go down the path that she had planned out for her when she was a child. "Heran's an idiot," Jasmine scoffed, enjoying her mother's wince, "His brain's good only for keeping his skull apart and even that's too much for it sometimes. You should just give it up, mother. I am not going to marry Heran. Period. Case closed. End of discussion."

"You always were a willful one," Reanna sighed, "Why can't you understand that I'm only trying to do what's best for you, Jasmine?"

"Mother, I'm an adult. I won't talk about Heran, nor will I talk about Havras. Tell father that I love him," Jasmine started reaching for the disconnect key.

"Jasmine, stop," Reanna said in a tone of voice that Jasmine had never heard before, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am. I just worry about your being in Starfleet. With this cover up, I can't help but wonder if you're doing the right thing. Just promise me that you'll consider what I said about coming home?"

The Science Chief sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Alright, Mother, I'll think about it."

"Excellent. Oh! I have a patient, so I need to go. Take care of yourself darling, and don't forget to stop by on your next leave," Reanna blew her a kiss and a moment later the Starfleet emblem replaced the view of Reanna's office.

"I hate parents," Jasmine sighed, hanging her head in her hands. She knew that her mother was motivated by genuine concern for her, but sometimes it got rather trying. That was especially true in regards to her mother's tendencies to try and meddle in her love life. At least her father knew when to leave well enough alone.

Sighing once again, the Betazoid stood from her personal terminal and headed for the door. She had an experiment to work on, and hopefully by burying herself in her work for a few hours she would be safe from personal messages for the time being. Hopefully.

“Bars, Bathrobes and Commitment”

With Rihannusu Attache Vrih Himne

And Ensign 8-Ball Hunter

Throughout the next day, Vrih Himne had been looking for 8-Ball - with little success.

He thought he could just use the ship's computer to track her down, but apparently 8-Ball wore her comm. badge less often than Starfleet regulations required. He had checked the science labs where she worked, but people there had just given him blank stares where he asked where she was.

Of course, blank stares were better than the amused glances he got from a number of people - he just hoped he wasn't going to be labelled "Bathrobe man" or some other equally immature nickname by the crew of the Galaxy. It had taken only ten minutes to reach his quarters from the holodeck last night, but it seemed like a year when wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

When he couldn't find her, he decided to go and formulate an apology - in the form of food. Since he didn't know much about the subject, he talked at length with one of the more helpful lieutenants in the messhall. The lieutenant at least refrained from mentioning Himne's embarrassing incident last night (although it was obvious he knew from his perpetually amused expression) although he did make some other rather annoying comments.

"Man, you should consider yourself lucky. From what I've heard of Ensign Hunter, she usually gets violent with those she doesn't like. You're lucky you don't have a broken nose, my friend."

"We're not..." Himne had been about to say "friends," but realised he still needed the help of this lieutenant, who he barely knew. "... Getting anywhere," he finished.

Now, several hours later, it was the late afternoon aboard the Galaxy and day shifts were usually finishing. Himne therefore decided to wait outside 8-Ball's quarters, hoping to see her.

Just as he was rounding the corner, he saw her walking into her quarters. His opportunity had arrived.

"8-Ball," he began, walking towards her. "I'm sorry about last night."

She turned towards him, and he could see - from her angry face - that he was going to have to do better than that, or else likely end up how that lieutenant had predicted.

"Can we go inside your quarters and talk about it?" Himne pleaded. "If not for me, for the food."

He lifted two cartons of what the lieutenant had called "fast-food."

"Hamburgers and chips," he explained. "I got some help in the messhall. You said yesterday that you found my food... disagreeable. So I figured it was my turn to try yours."

He looked at her, hoping this gesture would calm her down at least slightly.

8-ball stared at him for a couple of minutes. A few things went through her mind. Approximately, in this order:

1. Himne had called her pretty much Vulcan. That was never to be forgiven.

2. Himne was kind of an ass anyway. He cared way too much about money and status and it was going to drive 8-ball bonkers. Besides, they didn't have anything in common, and why were they trying to form a relationship-thing anyway when good sex was really all that linked them together.

3. The sex WAS pretty good, though, and 8-ball liked Himne.

4. During the fight, 8-ball had been kind of mean herself and possibly let herself blow up just a little more than absolutely necessary. She probably called him about six different variant's of stupid and that wasn't very nice. The fact that he wasn't yelling about that was a point in his favor.

5. She had also stolen his clothes. That was also considered mean.

6. All in all, Himne probably had some things to bitch about too.

7. BUT. . .he had called her PRETTY MUCH VULCAN.

8. Also, he had food (good food, not raw targ hell food) and she was hungry.

8-ball sighed. "Come on in," she said and led him inside. "Let's eat and talk."

"Thanks," Himne said, looking pleased and relieved. He entered 8-Ball's quarters, realising that he had never been here before.

"You're quarters are..." he thought of something complimentary to say, but found they were a bit (okay, excessively) bare for his taste. "... very nice. Humans do have a knack for interior design." He hoped his comment, as pathetic as it was, would not go unnoticed.

8-ball raised an eyebrow at him. "That was lame. I haven't done crap with these quarters and you hate them. I can tell. Never mind; it was a nice effort to be polite, I guess. Put the food over there and lets eat."

He opened the cartons and laid the food down on the nearest table, letting the delicious smells (delicious for Terran palettes, anyway) waft out into the room.

"Look," he said. "I want to apologise for yesterday, I didn't mean to rant and cause offence. For that I am truly sorry. Also, you should have said if you didn't like my food. I wouldn't have taken offence."

"Oh, and..." he was about to ask for his formal clothes from yesterday back (they had been hideously expensive) but decided better of it, instead trailing off.

8-ball waited for him to finish his sentence for approximately six seconds and then decided if he wasn't going to say something, she wasn't going to wait. "Well, about the apology, um. . . ." Here 8-ball stalled, trying to figure out if she wanted to accept it or not. "Well, I guess I kind of went, you know, a little overboard, and yeah. I didn't mean to be. . .I just, I hate being called Vulcan. I wasn't raised Vulcan, I don't like Vulcans, and I've gotten pretty sick of people expecting me to be Vulcan just because I happen to have pointy ears. It's not something I had a lot of choice in, you know?"

"Anyway," 8-ball said, "so you're forgiven and I guess I'm sorry too and all that." She took a huge bite of a cheeseburger, chewed, and swallowed with a smile. "What do you think of the food?" she asked wryly.

"Not bad," Himne nodded, sitting down and chewing on a burger. "I like the beef, but the ham is a bit tasteless for my taste buds."

That surprised 8-ball. She was so sure that he would hate all of it. She was kind of disappointed. She had been expecting a 'good god' expression. Oh well.

Having finished the burger, he leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers, studying 8-Ball with a serious expression.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "But can we talk about our relationship, if we have one? It's just that - like I said earlier - I haven't had many female partners because I've got very elite selection criteria. But, on the other hand, I've heard that you... tend not to be monogamous. So what's the deal?"

Oh no. He was going serious now.

8-ball finished up her food and thought of Running Tree. After finding his wolf alone in the corridor and nearly being eaten to death (well, she thought she'd be eaten to death, at any rate), 8-ball ended up meeting Running Tree and then consequently sleeping with him. He wanted a serious relationship to, a one on one, all exclusive feel. 8-ball had said no to him. She didn't know what she wanted with Himne.

"Well," she said carefully, "I didn't know we had much of a relationship. I mean, yeah, we hooked up, but then I didn't see you again for ages, and then we hooked up again, but. . .I mean, I didn't think you were looking for anything really serious either." Then something Himne said clicked in her head and she raised her eyebrows at him. "You've got elite selection criteria? You don't honestly think I fit it, do you? I mean, am I really what you imagined your typical girlfriend to be? I mean, what are you looking for in all of this?"

Himne smiled. "Yes, I do think you fit. Admittedly, I was rather drunk that first night, but why do you think I helped you with those children?"

"As for what I'm looking for - well, while you do still get Rihannusu "playboys" - they're less common than in human culture, since upper-class Rihannusu are taught from birth the importance of having legitimate heirs to their legacy. Thus, most partners are viewed as being potential soulmates."

"Anyway," he continued. "I know we have different tastes. For example, I became wealthy by following the same thing you hate - authority. But, don't you humans have an adage - that opposites attract?"

8-ball realized that she wasn't breathing as she stared at Himne. She made herself start again. She had been doing just fine (she actually felt sort of complimented when he said that she somehow fit) but then he said the word 'soulmate'. That stopped her right there.

"Okay," 8-ball said. "Okay. I can believe that opposites attract. . .often, even, though I rarely see opposites stay together. But I don't mind that we're different and I don't mind trying things out." 8-ball chewed her lower lip. "Look, I like you, Vrih, I do. I could, possibly, potentially, try out a relationship, even a. . .monogamous one. But that's as far as I'm willing to take it right now; I mean, I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to view you as a potential soulmate. I mean, I don't even know if I believe in soul mates. So if you're looking for that, you're going to have to give me time. I'm not ready for anything like that yet."

Himne nodded again in understanding, leaning further back in his chair. "That's fine - I would be flattered enough that someone with your... reputation, would be willing to try a monogamous relationship."

8-ball frowned at this but didn't say anything. This was about the fourth time she had her about her 'reputation' in a week and she was pretty much ready for someone to just call her a slut and get it over with. She didn't bring it up. Things were weird enough as it was.

"So," he said, hesitantly, fearing her reply. "Forget soulmates. Can we agree on us being in an official, monogamous relationship though? Only if you really want to, you understand. There's no doubt I do, but you have to be willing as well."

8-ball went back to chewing her lower lip. She wanted to chew the food, but she had finished it already, so the lip it was. She didn't really want to say anything because she wasn't sure what to say.

She thought about Running Tree, who was nice and handsome and also wanted to have a serious relationship. 8-ball had turned the offer down but had left it open-ended, so that they could have fun without the stress and bother of committment. Now Himne was asking the same thing. . .and she was considering it. Did she like Himne more than Running Tree? Yeah, in a way, she did. Himne and her clicked better, had a better chemistry or something, but that didn't mean that they were good for each other, or that she wanted serious stuff with him either. 8-ball liked Vrih; this was definitely true. He was pretty sweet to her and he could suck it up and apologize and he actually tracked down the kind of food she liked to eat. . .but did she really want to be tied down like this? Did she really want this kind of confinement?

8-ball chewed her lower lip and then stopped because she was worried it would start bleeding.

"I don't. . .I don't know exactly how I feel," 8-ball began slowly, trying to work her way through this. "I know I'm not ready for church bells and babies and destiny, so that can just be thrown out the window. I haven't had many real relationships before, so this is kind of weird territory. . .I certainly never sat down and talked about the pros and cons of it. But I guess, I mean, I like you, Vrih, and I really do, and. . .I don't want to make a bunch of promises or anything, but. . .I guess I wouldn't mind trying out something a little more steady, and a little more exclusive in the past." Saying this made 8-ball feel horribly insecure and she tried not to fidget with her hands and mentally told herself that she was being stupid. "So, if you wanna, and I mostly wanna, then I guess technically you're now my boyfriend."

"Great," Himne grinned, wider this time. "You won't regret this - and, if either of us does at any stage, I guess we can just go back to the way we are now."

"Anyway," he stood, sensing all this seriousness was making her uncomfortable. "What do you want to do now? I'm going to leave it entirely up to you this time, since my last suggestion of going to the holodeck failed rather dismally. Got any ideas?"

"Well, the holodeck itself was fine. Maybe just a change of scenery." 8-ball thought about it for a minute and suddenly a grin appeared on her face. "You wanted to know more about me, right? Know the kind of place I grew up? Well, I got the place for you: you're absolutely going to love it."

8-ball didn't actually think this was true, but hey, anything was worth trying, right?

****

A few minutes later, 8-ball and Himne stepped back into the holodeck, although the simulation this time was very much not the exquisite mansion they had been in before. The room was more crowded, the lights were dimmer, and the music extraordinarily less romantic. 8-ball sighed with relief at the feeling of being home back in good old Big Man's bar.

"This place is called the Wicked Scarecrow," 8-ball yelled over the loud music. . .right now the jukebox was playing The Clash, 'Should I Stay or Should I Go Now', which 8-ball thought was particularly appropriate. "I lived here for a few years, up till I was 17. It was a good home for me. I especially like the music." She turned to look at Himne, who she expected to be flushing rather green again. "How d'ya like it?"

"Very interesting place," Himne said diplomatically, wondering if the sound system was malfunctioning horribly, or whether this din was actually considered music on Earth. He assumed the latter, since 8-Ball had referred to how much she liked it. He surveyed the bar, noticing it looked remarkably similar to some of the bars he had been to as a teenager, living in the impoverished outskirts of Romulus Central District. Perhaps they had more in common than they thought.

"I actually grew up around places like this, too. But they were a bit quieter. Is it always this loud?" he asked, turning to 8-Ball. "You said you lived here for a few years, how'd you ever manage to sleep at night with this... music playing?"

8-ball grinned. "You can get used to anything, Vrih, if you set your mind to it. Besides, after living on Vulcan for two years, I could definitely use the change in atmosphere." They walked up to the bar and 8-ball ordered a Mai Tai for herself. "So," she said. "What do you wanna do now? Is this where we talk, kiss, dance, or drink down?"

"How about all four?" Himne asked with a smile, leaning closer.

8-ball smiled back and kissed him. "Yeah, that could work," she said. "I could be up for that." She ordered another drink for herself and Himne, and then turned back as he began to talk again.

"You know, coming here, makes me realise we're not as different as we first appear. Like I said, I grew up in the slums - and I worked in a number of taverns around the area, some sleazier than others, in order to earn my keep."

Suddenly, something peaked his curiosity. "So you moved here after running away from Vulcan, and stayed here for three years. How come you left after then, anyway? It sounds like you preferred here to Starfleet."

8-ball laughed and looked away. "I did," she said. "I really did. But shit happens and there isn't a lot you can do about it sometimes." 8-ball frowned. This wasn't something she wanted to discuss on their sorta date thing. "There was this big bar fight and a lot of people got killed. The guy who owned the place let me work here illegally because he was my friend and a good guy, but he died too, so I didn't really have anywhere to go. So I wandered around for about a year, trying to figure out what I wanted to, and wandering can be fun, but only if you already possess a lot of money. Otherwise, you're just kind of homeless, and starving's a bad way to spend your time. So I joined up with Starfleet. I knew I was smart enough for it, and it was something to do, at any rate. And now I'm here."

8-ball looked at Vrih. "I don't think we're on totally opposite ends of the spectrum, Vrih," she said. "I mean, I think you're right, we have a little in common. But the big difference us is where we want to be. You worked in those sleazy taverns and you hated them, right? You wanted to break free of places of like those, break free of the stigma of being poor. But I'M more comfortable in places like these, where things aren't so. . .sterile and rule oriented. Your mansion is like your ultimate dream; I'd go back to this bar any day if I could. We want to go different places, Vrih, and that's the big thing. We'll just have to see if it's too big of a thing, or something we can compromise on."

"Yep," Himne nodded. "You're right - I hated working at places like here. But, that's not to say I hated the places themselves, just working as an employee. You never know, I might find this place different, being a customer and all."

"But in some ways you're wrong," he looked at her, and for a moment his eyes filled with passion. "It wasn't the stigma of being poor. Yes, it's great being able to show off wealth, but it's not about that."

"It was about providing a better life for my future children than my parents provided for me. When or if I have children, I want them to have everything I never had - and I wanted to drag my parents out of the gutter too, which I've succeeded in doing. They're living in part of my mansion now, in a place beyond their wildest dreams."

"Wouldn't you prefer your - if you ever had any - children to live on a prestigious place rather than grow up in a bar like this?" he asked her curiously.

8-ball shrugged. "I have a hard time imagining ever having kids," she said honestly. "But if I ever do. . .I think there are worse places to grow up, and sometimes prestige just means cold." She took a sip of her drink and thought about it. "There are people, usually rich people, who romanticize being poor. The poor people can marry for love, the poor people know what's important in life, the poor people understand being happy, blah blah blah. There's this ideal somewhere that a poor person is a perfect person, only without money. Personally, I think that's complete bullshit because when you're really poor, you aren't free. You're struggling to survive. A lot of people don't understand what being that poor feels like; they've never been kept up at night wondering how they would feed themselves the next day. If I ever have kids, I wouldn't want that for them. Living month to month is stressful enough; living day to day is a whole new experience."

"Still," 8-ball said, "this bar was good to me. I had friends here, and I had Big Man, and it was a good home until it was over. I think I'd prefer to raise my kids here than any mansion without those people. It's the people that make the home, you know. Everything is else is just backstory." 8-ball smiled. "Of course, if you can have the people and the home, then take them both and try to be happy. But I don't think you can really give your kids a better life than you had. Their lives are just going to be different, and different doesn't always equal good. That's my two cents, though, and who knows? Maybe I'll even have kids someday."

8-ball shuddered at the thought and then stood up as the jukebox changed songs to "My Sharona" by The Knack. "Oh, I love this song! Come on, let's dance."

"Alright," Himne sighed reluctantly. He wasn't exactly a great dancer, and that was when he had been listening to compositions by some of the greatest Rihannusu that ever lived. Still, he was open to new experiences.

"But," he said as they walked over to the dancefloor. "I'm not really familiar with human dances, so you'll have to guide me a bit."

"It's not exactly a song that there's a particular dance to," 8-ball said. "Most rock music doesn't have a certain dance. You just kind of go with it. There's usually a bunch of bouncing." She pointed to tohe other holographic dancers who were dancing around like crazy and then began to dance herself. "See? It's not hard."

"I guess," Himne nodded. Even when he had danced, it had been ordered and flowing movements to soothing, gentle music - this was the total opposite.

He began copying some of the holo-characters, slowly at first, but he became more confident as time went on.

He grinned at 8-Ball, who was moving around next to him, and tried to get into the rhythm of the music (was there any? He wondered) all the while secretly glad that this room didn't have a mirror in it.

Himne quickly became exhausted, however, and he was glad when the music ended - it gave him a chance to rest. He walked over to the bar with 8-Ball and ordered vodka.

"I hope I wasn't too bad," he said. "It's a rather strange set of movements, I must say."

Then he grinned again. "But, for you, I guess I could get used to it. And at the moment, I must say, I'm having to adapt quicker than a Borg to all these new things. The company's worth it, however."

8-ball smiled. Himne wasn't exactly Mr. Dance Machine, but he hadn't done that bad. "Don't worry," she told him. "We can make compromises. I can, you know, try going to formal places or something every now and then. We can both try to adapt." She thought about that a minute and then added, "But I ain't adapting to raw targ. I'm sorry. I'll try other food if you really want me to, but I'm seriously ex-naying the raw targ."

Their drinks arrived, and Himne took a swig from the bottle. "So where do we go from here?" he asked her.

8-ball shrugged. "Well, I guess that's up to you," she said. "I wanted to see what you'd think of the place. . .to be honest, I was sort of expecting you to run away by now. But you haven't, so that gets you some points in my book. But we can do what you want. We can hang here for a little longer and drink ourselves into insensibility, we can play pool, we can go back to your place and do whatever. . .I can, on occasion play the girl in the relationship." Seeing Himne's blank look, 8-ball clarified, "I don't have to lead. You know, like dancing and whatever. So, what do you want to do?"

"Well," Himne said, uncertain. He was still a bit nervous about saying anything that might accidentally offend 8-Ball and result in him walking home in a bathrobe again. "Actually, it's funny you should mention - I'm in the middle of redecorating my quarters, want to come and see my taste in interior design, and maybe more later?"

8-ball raised an eyebrow. Interior design. That was a new one.

"Sure," she she said.

As they left the holodeck, Himne started talking again.

"Starfleet quarters as they come are a bit drab, so I talked a bit with-"

Suddenly a group of young male ensigns (the type that didn't know any better) rounded the corner.

"Hey, bathrobe boy, how's it going?" one of them asked mockingly. "How come you had your clothes confiscated? Were you under-performing in the bedroom or something?"

Himne seethed with rage as the group tittered again, restraining himself for 8-Ball's sake. Although he wasn't much of a fighter, Rihannusu and Vulcans typically possessed nearly twice the strength of a human - and so, if Himne was to call his bodyguard as well, he reckoned he could easily have taken all of those pathetic veruuls.

He wondered if 8-Ball would have such self-restraint.

Not surprisingly, 8-ball did not.

She didn't take the lead idiot's arm, twist it around, and shove him into the wall, though that could have been fun. She didn't even kick him in the groin. In her opinion, he actually wasn't worth it.

She took a breath and got ready for full-on Verbal Assault Mode.

"Bathrobe boy?" she asked incredulously. "BATHROBE BOY?! That's your clever little taunting name? What, you couldn't come up with anything actually, you know, insulting? Something, maybe, with a spark of intelligence or ingenuity or, you know, semblance of thought? Who the hell are you, anyway?"

There was a murmur of amusement from the gang.

One of the ensigns at the back called out. "Hey guys, looks like this Romulan has no clothes and no tongue! His girl's doing all the talking!"

The ensign at the front simply laughed, and responded to 8-Ball's question. "I'm Ensign Fully Clothed, which is more than I can say for this chump here." He looked at Himne menacingly.

8-ball shook her head. How did this guy pass Starfleet Academy? There WAS an entrance exam based on some form of intelligence, wasn't there?

"Look, 8-Ball, let's go," Himne said in a voice filled with fury.

"That's right Bathrobe Boy!" Ensign Fully Clothed said, to the derisive jeers of his gang. "In the meantime, I hope you Romulans learn to wear clothes."

Himne, his face burning with humiliation, beckoned for 8-Ball to follow him.

8-ball thought about following Himne and just walking off but Himne looked so embarassed that she felt bad for him. Then it occured to her that he was now technically her boyfriend. And NOBODY was fucking with her boyfriend, even if they had a brain capacity equivalent to a turnip.

8-ball smiled at Ensign Fully Clothed and decided to do exactly what she had wanted to do earlier. She grabbed him by the wrist, twisted it backwards, and slammed him into the wall. His other moronic lackeys were so surprised by this that they backed off, their laughter cut off like somebody had slapped them. 8-ball pushed Ensign Fully Clothed's face harder into the wall.

"Now," 8-ball said as the idiotic ensign struggled. "While you're here and I have your attention, let me explain some things to you. First, when you're going to pick on people, remember to do it to people who are both intellectually and physically weaker than you are. Since I can't imagine that there are many people on the ship who meet those qualifications, you might want to rethink your newfound career of being a bully. Second, when you're going to tease somebody about what they're wearing, remember that clothes are optional in many cultures, and just because you're a total geek-boy virgin, that's no reason to be jealous of other half naked people who obviously have a much more fulfilling sex life than you. Third and finally, if you're going to harass MY BOYFRIEND and joke around that he doesn't wear the pants in the relationship, try and get it through your thick, hardheaded skull that a girl like me needs a man who's, shall we say, vigorous, and the sex that WE have is so much better than all your masturbation fantasies that you'd be prematurely squirting your shorts before anyone could say 'Little Boy Limp Dick'.

"Now," 8-ball said, "do you have something that you'd like to say, or do we need to repeat the lesson?"

"Nah, nah! We're cool! We're cool!" The ensign gasped. He eyed Himne venomously for a second, before scampering away with the rest of his mates.

Himne - his previous anger forgotten - was now more amused and excited than anything else. Admittedly, while 8-Ball's defiant show of strength had been rather arousing, he was not excited in that sense - rather, he had noted how she had officially referred to him as "her boyfriend."

He was amused, since those veruuls had deserved nothing less than to be humiliated, as they had been trying to humiliate him.

"Thanks," he said, giving a slight bow of the head in appreciation. "It's a shame that ensign wasn't on his own in the first place, or I would have pummelled him into the nearest bulkhead."

8-ball shrugged. "I do what I can."

"Anyway..." he said, moving closer to her. "Now that we're in an official relationship, I'm going to ask how your day works. I mean, how do you spend your free time? In the holodeck, like we were in just now, or with friends or Ten-Forward or what? I'd like to share as many interests as I can." He smiled.

8-ball blinked. The question just seemed to come out of nowhere. "Oh," she said. "Well, I don't know. I work when I have to. I spend a lot of time on the holodeck; I think it's a way niftier invention than the whole tricorder thing. Give me a holodeck anyday. And sometimes I hang out with some friends---not that I got tons, but you know. Ella, and Indy. Sometimes Branwen. And I hang out in Ten-Forward too. I don't really plan these things out."

Then she stepped closer. "You know," she said, "just cause we're going out, we don't have to have the exact same activities and interests and everything. I mean, our lives don't have to be like synchronized swimming. You'll like your stuff, I'll like mine, and maybe we'll find somewhere along the road that there's something we can both enjoy together." Her eyebrow rose. "Other than sex, of course, which is sort of the obvious one."

"Yes, there is that..." Himne smiled as he remembered, having a brief faraway look before looking back at her.

"So, I think we were heading back to my quarters before those idiots came along. I was going to show you my attempts so far at interior design."

He extended his arm for her to take, and they headed off.

Five minutes later, they arrived at Himne's quarters. The attaché placed his index finger against the green panel, and the doors slid open smoothly after verifying his fingerprint.

8-ball raised an eyebrow at this but didn't comment. Jesus. Fingerprint security. She felt like pretending to sneak in covertly and looking over her shoulder. She didn't, because she doubted Himne would be amused.

Himne walked into his quarters - or, rather, his new quarters, as they had radically changed from the last time 8-Ball had been in them.

Whereas before the bulkheads had simply been the drab standard Starfleet grey, and the room purely functional - now the quarters had ornate wood panelling and a real fireplace burning logs with a crackle in the corner. Several rare-looking paintings of various famous Rihannusu adorned the wood panelled walls, and - if it weren't for the large curved window that looked out into space - the quarters would have been an exact replica of a deluxe Rihannusu log cabin. The floor had also been panelled over with wood, bare except for the luxurious fur rug next to the fireplace.

"What do you think?" he asked with a smile, gesturing around him. "Since I'm going to be staying here in the long-term, for several years, I was given permission to do extensive re-decorating. My bodyguards had it done in under a week."

"Wow," 8-ball said and meant it. She hadn't been paying that much attention to the scenery last time she had been in these quarters, and interior decorating wasn't exactly her strong suit, but even she could see the effort that had gone into this room. "Nice digs. They're all woodsy and even a little romantic. . .fireplace. . .convienant rug. . ." She walked around the room, looking at the new decorations, and then returned to Himne.

"So, you'll be here for a few years?" 8-ball said, closing the space between her and Himne and smiling up at him. "I guess I could get used to that." She kissed him, pulled back, and realized something sort of astonishing. She sort of liked having an actual boyfriend.

Huh.

She kissed him again. "Now that we're in your nice, cozy, little room here, was there anything in particular you wanted to do? Cause if you can't think of anything, I'm sure I could come up with something. . ."

Himne smiled, and kissed her again. Suddenly, they found themselves rolling around on the ornate rug, next to the crackling fireplace.

"8-Ball," he pondered the word, stroking her hair gently. "Since you said you were given that name when you started working at the bar, I assume that's not the name you were born with - and I'm assuming it's either Vulcan or a really repulsive human name, or else you'd use it. But, still, I'm curious." He said, hoping he hadn't touched a sore subject.

And oh, he had, and 8-ball frowned at him. She wasn't mad, exactly, but she didn't like that name, and didn't want to talk about it, not when she was having such a good time.

"Okay," 8-ball said. "I'll tell you, on the condition that you never, ever, EVER call me by that name, otherwise I'll drop you faster than a plate of burning hot targ. All right?" When Himne nodded, 8-ball said, "Okay, my given name is T'Pol. Extraordinarily common Vulcan first name; it was even my mom's first name. The Vulcans have absolutely no sense of originality. Anyway, that's it, but I've never gone by that name, not even when I was a kid. My dad used to call me Kahless. It was sort of cute but 8-ball works better for me, and I like the name. So don't call me T'Pol and I won't call you Bathrobe Boy and everything will be good. Okay?"

"Deal," said Himne with a smile. T'Pol sounded much more like the name of a Vulcan or Rihannusu, but he had to admit - she fitted 8-Ball much better.

"What shall we do now, 8-Ball?" he asked teasingly. "I was thinking of something that required a few less clothes, what do you reckon?"

8-ball raised an eyebrow and added a southern twang to her voice. "I RECKON we might want to try something of that nature," she said. "Maybe something with you tearing my clothes right off of me, or something equally amusing. THat is, of course, if you're feeling manly enough and up to the challenge? Are ya?"

It turned out he was.

"information not available"

by Turan Trelar, juvenile Quentite ambassador and trainee

One of the advantages of being an ambassador is the fact, they grant you access even to classified information.

"Computer, search for information about Meena, Trill, refugee camp, Leran Manev" ordered the juvenile Quentite Ambassador lying on his bed.

The picture of an elderly woman arose in his mind. The woman he worked side by side searching for the womans grandchild told him so much about the girl he almost felt able to draw a phantom view. Turan was curious what happened to her after he brought her to the refugee camps hospital.

=/\= *tweedle-beep* access to patients files is available to medical staff only =/\=

Turan' fist hit the desk.

"Computer list all female Trill called Meena living in the Leran Manev area.", Turan made hi next attempt.

=/\= *tweedle-beep* 723 matches found =/\= answered the computer's female voice.

Turan shook his head.

"add condition age of more than 60 years"

=/\= *tweedle-beep* 45 matches found =/\=

Turan scratched his temple. He didn't expect the name Meene to be so usual.

"add condition have female grandchildren"

=/\= *tweedle-beep* 7 matches found. =/\=

Turan smiled. Scanning through seven files would be a job, he could handle. But there was an other information left to try.

"add condition name of grandchild Saia"

=/\= *tweedle-beep* 1 match found =/\= reported the computer.

Again, the Quentite's fist hit the desk.

*list information available*

=/\= *tweedle-beep* access denied. authorization required. =/\=

Turan smiled. He made it that far only to be stopped by a simple authorization routine.

*specify authorization*

=/\= *tweedle-beep* information is limited to administrative and ambassadorial staff =/\=

"Ambassadorial staff? Computer, authorization Turan Trelar, Quentite ambassador to the UFP"

=/\= *tweedle-beep* authorization accepted - access granted =/\=

=Turan laughed. Minutes ago,being an 'ambassador' seemed like a joke to him. Now, things had slightly changed. He was a man or let's better say a boy of influence.

"search for target person's current position", the ambassador order with a firm voice.

=/\= *tweedle-beep* information not available. last reported position was emergency hospital, refugee camp, Leran Manev =/\=

"is there any information about her death?"

=/\= *tweedle-beep* information not available. Likelihood of death is 11.04% =/\=

For the moment, Turan was content. The woman who almost made him a member of her family seemed to have survived. He would continue searching for her later. Turan switched his computer off.

"Light off" ordered the juvenile Quentite ambassador. "Time to sleep."

“A quick game turned to motivation.”

Ensign Will Warbeck, Tactial NPC friend

::Will Warbeck’s quarters, USS Galaxy::

Will Warbeck sipped the beer before meeting the eyes of the Lieutenant sitting across from him. “Okay, how about this…” he said, narrowing his eyes and leaning close, holding the man’s darker eyes. “Carried away by night-time birds, a blank page left to die.”

“Sounds like something L’Ame Immortelle would have. And could the song be Disharmony?” the man asked and laughed when he saw the face before him crumble. “Oh, you are so predictable, Will.”

“Well, not many have heard of them,” Will frowned and sat back, reaching for the pen and adding a point to Lt. Michael Greer. “Alright, you bastard…your turn. Surprise me.”

Michael chuckled, arching a brow as he sipped his own beer. “You know, we have better things to do than sitting here guessing lyrics of old songs…” he pointed out, chuckling. “We could go and see if we could hit on someone.”

Will grimaced at that, shaking his head. “After last time? Seriously, my heart can only be broken that many times.”

“Hm…” Michael chuckled, thinking for a moment as he hummed before wetting his lips. “And one day she said to me: ‘Virgil, quick, come see, there goes the Robert E Lee’...”

Will looked at him for a long moment, wetting his lips. “Give me a hint.”

“It’s a woman who sings it,” Michael said and grinned, knowing he had him.

Will ran his hands through his hair, sighing as he stood up and rubbed the stubble on his face. “I…I don’t know.”

“Joan Baez with The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” Michael said and nodding. “Yeah, I have better songs than you do. Now add another point on me.”

Will gave him the two finger salute and sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, well…better than better, that’s all depending. I could take really odd Dutch songs if I wanted to, that you never could guess.”

“No, because that’s against the rules,” Michael said and stood up. “Come on...don’t be a sore loser.”

Will smiled weakly, meeting his eyes. “It’s not about that. I just…” he sighed and looked down. “I need ambition, Michael. Like you. I mean, you’re a Lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. And me? Just plain old me…Ensign Red Shirt.”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t shout loud enough. You stay too much in the background, Will, and that’s ruin on any career. You need to be more visible. Volunteer more. And stop staring at that officer in your department. Be professional.” Michael finished his beer and watched him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You go to bed and think about that…because you have it in you. You just need motivation.”

“Motivation…” Will chuckled and nodded, watching him go before turning the stereo on. “Yeah, motivation…” he closed his eyes as he sat down in his chair, holding the beer bottle.

"Letting Go."

Lt. jg. Airaul Taern

Airaul let out a long breath as he rubbed his neck tiredly. He blinked several times to try and bring the words back into view on the padd, but it didn't change all that much. Awkwardly stretching out, he grimaced as he tried to get comfortable in his chair. His jacket was hooked over the back of it and his sleeves rolled up, betraying how long he'd been at his desk.

A gentle hand slid over the back of his neck, rubbing gently. "You've been at it for hours, Airaul..." Nathaniel said quietly, close to his ear.

Airaul smiled weakly at that, leaning into the hand as he let his long legs stretch out under the table, feeling the click from the stiff joints. "Just a while longer..."

"No, now." Nathaniel met his eyes, arching an expectant eyebrow at him.

Airaul shook his head, tapping the padd against his thumb. "The saucer section of the ship should never have been able to crash on the planet...and the people down there should have had warning to get into some kind of shelters..."

"Not this again..." Nathaniel whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat back on his heels.

"Nathaniel, all of those people were killed because of it, do you not think it is worth just a little more thought than a few days of clean up?" Airaul snapped at him.

Nathaniel shook his head with a frown, meeting his eyes. "But it's not your job. There will be other people looking into how it happened. Experts."

"There should have been some sort of warning system or some kind of mechanism in place to stop the amount of death caused by it..." Airaul said firmly, his hand firmly on the desk. "Some kind of procedure for the people on a planet to follow in such danger..."

"There wasn't though, and there's nothing we can do to change that..." Nathaniel said calmly, watching him with a worried frown. "And who knows? Now, maybe there will be such a procedure put in place, or better warning systems..."

"Why is it that we have to wait for so much death and grief until the authorities actually do something about the lacking safety?" Airaul said quietly.

Nathaniel watched him silently for a long moment, his brow creasing in a slight frown. "It's just the way it is here," he said softly.

Airaul met his eyes, a weak smile coming through to his tense features as he reached out to gently stroke his jaw with a gentle thumb. "That was not an attack on your culture. Believe me, it is just the same at home. What I said...they were just the frustrations of a man who has no idea how to make this better."

"You can't," Nathaniel said softly, reaching out to take the hand as he smiled gently to him. "You can look over the Prometheus specifications as much as you like, but it's not going to change what happened. So put the padd down, and come and relax with a drink. You've been working for hours on this, and you're not even on duty. Do me a favour, and just do as you're told for once, hm?"

Airaul couldn't help the slightly hoarse chuckle that rolled in the back of his throat. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to push the padd away before pushing himself out of the chair awkwardly. He stretched out, moaning at the feeling after hours cramped over the desk. "You think you are so clever..." he teased.

"Well of course," Nathaniel grinned, standing with him to pull him over to the sofa. "That's why you stand me pushing you around..."

"One day I will tell you where to go, as you say..." Airaul gave a playful grin as he moved with him.

"Oh, I know you will...the fun is seeing how far I can push you," he looked over his shoulder at him, meeting his eyes before giving a wink. "But until then, sit down, shut up and get drunk..." Nathaniel pushed him down onto the sofa, putting the glass in his hand before sliding to sit behind him, wrapping his legs easily around him as he started to massage his neck with a small, satisfied smile.

“Meet N' Greet”

By Ensign Miramon Terrik
Flight Control Officer

And Ensign Linda Belle Patch
Operations Officer

Location: Crew Quarters, Deck 5

In preparation for the rituals of Ha'Mara, Miramon had spent most of his time down in Ten Forward, making arrangements for the food with the staff - it had to be hand-cooked, rather than replicated, since Bajorans couldn't eat replicated food on a religious holiday - hardly appropriate. And of course, since it wouldn't just be Bajorans participating, he suspected, so they had to prepare the food in advance. Plus of course there were lots of candles to replicate - everyone present was given one, and then there were the ones that would be used for decorative purposes.

He'd dropped back into his quarters to take a quick shower and take a little time out - with his duties and the preparations for the festival, it was beginning to get exhausting, and he really didn't want to be tired out for the first day, which was the Festival of Lights and the Ritual meal, or indeed for the fasting ritual the day after. As it was, he was currently laid out on the couch with a book, one of the Anne Rice novels of Earth origin - quite fascinating, really, along with a cold glass of Raspberry Iced Tea - another of those things he'd picked up from his days at the Academy in San Fransisco.

In all fairness Belle had felt just a bit peeved when she received a message stating that she’d have to move to another room, *again*. What was it, the third time now while onboard the USS Galaxy? And she’d been present for a grand total of a few days as it was. Apparently there was some mixed insanity going on with who was supposed to be living where since the last crew surge, which meant a lot of shuffling and praying that no one would complain this time. They always did.

Belle hadn’t had the time to pounce someone about when they’d stop shifting them from one room to another, but that was mostly due to her getting lost nine times out of ten while attempting to move about the ship and get to work. Big ships were a nightmare and then some.

At the moment the short Operations Officer was slinking through the hallways, clutching a PADD and hoping that she wouldn’t get lost again, because she’d already ended up at a dead end two times since stepping from the turbolift. She was on the prowl for her next quarters and it wasn’t coming easily at all. At last she came to a stop at one of the many doors, glancing back at the directions on the PADD and double-checking it with what was above the door. She took a deep, cleansing breath, remembering what Anel Duin had said about it in the last Eclipse Magazine, and mustered an honest-to-God smile before touching the buzzer. First impressions went a long way, after all.

Given the fact that it was getting late in the afternoon, Miramon wasn't expecting visitors, given that the majority of people he knew would either be on duty shifts or taking the opportunity to get some recreation done - and since Nara had Saia to deal with, he doubted she'd drop in to talk, either. Maybe it was one of the other Bajorans aboard coming to talk to him about the ceremony before the meeting in Ten Forward later on. He smiled and put the book he was reading down on the small coffee table beside him, coming to a sitting position quickly and composing himself. "Come in."

As the door opened up Belle stepped in calmly, though giving the room a quick appreciative sweep with her eyes before noticing the man on the couch. Her face obviously blanked for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly – getting over shock was a big part of being a decent reporter. She’d always thought she learned it pretty well. “Um, hey,” the girl noted not too articulately, giving a slight wave. Could things get any more complicated? What happened to the good habit of putting people of the same gender in the same rooms? Ah well.

“I’m Belle Patch, from the Operations department. If I’m in the right place, and I think I am, then it looks like I’m your new roomy.” She paused for a moment, digesting the notion, before her wits kicked in and she skipped closer, reaching out a hand as greeting to the Bajoran and offering a quick smile.

The Bajoran took the young woman's hand and shook it firmly, smiling slightly in welcome. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with some clear amusement, although it wasn't a disdainful amusement - more one of surprise that anything else.

"Well, welcome. I don't suppose I need to tell you to make yourself at home, since this pretty much is your home as far as the ship's concerned. I was wondering when they'd get around to curbing my extra space allowance and getting me a roommate. I'm Miramon Terrik, although you can just call me Miramon. Saves time and effort. I'm on Navigation, so we'll probably end up working together as well as sharing space."

He gestured around the room with his free hand, encompassing pretty much the entirety of it, though the smile remained on his face, almost as though he was trying to sell property and this was one customer he couldn't afford to lose.

"The place is pretty tidy - I don't keep much in the way of ornaments as it is. Your bed and storage space is through there," he noted, nodding towards one of the small compartments that moved off to one side of the room, "while mine is right next door. Basically we share everything else, so if you want me to clear anything out or get rid of anything, let me know and we'll negotiate for space." His smile widened briefly to show that he was joking.

The girl nodded slightly, giving the room another grading gaze before she sat down on a chair opposite from the Bajoran. His taste seemed to be a little, well, Bajoran, considering the lamp thing, the picture on the wall and so on, but nothing she’d gag at, which was adorable. Last time she had been slammed in the same ‘cell’ with a Trill chick, who insisted on framing her lineage and putting it on the wall. Problem was the girl could trace her family back far enough to cover five walls.

“Well, considering how it’s been going this far I might get ‘cycled out in a day or so. I’ve been shoved into two different rooms already, this is the third, and I came onboard the last time the Galaxy was at Starbase 212.” She huffed slightly, leaning back and eyeing the lamp with some mixed sense of question versus uncertainty, before glancing at Miramon again.

“You can call me Belle, or just Dee, whichever works for you. Oh, and I’m a slob every now and then, so if you start having trouble moving around the room tap me on the shoulder and tell me tog et my stuff together.” She gave a grin, putting her hands on the armrests and being thankful that this one didn’t seem as odd as the Trill. Even if he was a guy.

“By the way, what shift do you usually work? Just for reference.”

Miramon smiled in amusement, then shrugged. "I've got Beta Shift on the Bridge. And seriously, don't worry about making a mess. The room is half yours, after all." The Bajoran smiled and took a sip of his Iced Tea, enjoying the flavour of it before putting the glass down quietly onto the coffee table. "And it won't be a problem. I've not had any roommates since the Academy, so it'll be interesting to see what happens while you're here, even if it is only for a few days. I doubt it, though - after all, nobody else seems to have ear-marked the room."

Dee nodded slowly. Beta wasn’t too bad, she’d been getting shifted between Beta and Gamma too when she wasn’t too phased about the getting lost thing all the time. Also meant she got to sleep in late. Would have been much crappier if they’d both been in Alpha, since early morning shower fights didn’t exactly seem to be his ‘thing’. “I’ve been going between Beta and Gamma myself, whenever I find the place where I’m supposed to be anyway. I hate getting used to ships, it takes me a month at the least to get used to what’s where.” She rolled her eyes theatrically, chuckling. She had been an inch away from requesting a guide to tow her around when she was working on the Olympus.

“I’d like it if they stopped shifting me around, the packing gets a bit annoying after the first turn. I guess I’ll drag my things here after I ‘check the premises’. Oh, which reminds me,” – she wasn’t exactly sure why, but it did -, “How’s your relationship with cooking instead of replicating meals?”

"Oh, I'm pretty good at cooking, certainly with Bajoran food. I mean, I used to serve on a merchant freighter shipping ore from DS9 back when it was called Terek Nor." The last part of that sentence was spoken with particular distaste. "But on long hauls with low-powered engines doing a maximum of warp 3, you get plenty of time to take up some hobbies. Cooking was mine."

Her upper lip curled a bit at the comment, the girl frowning. “Warp 3? Egh, that must’ve sucked. And that’s good to hear, you’ll have fun putting out the fires that I leave in my wake when I attempt to cook. Anyway,” she hoisted herself up from the chair, brushing her hands together matter-of-factly, offering another quick smile. “I better go check out my dive and then go get my stuff before my psycho ex-roomy eats it or something. Stay chilled, Mirry.” With that, the girl turned about and stalked off, memorizing the first room before she stalked into her own.

Well, it’d certainly be interesting, even if they made a slightly odd pairing.

"Researching a Dark Persona"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer

Paulo sat at his station waiting for his contacts to get back to him. Besides the time delay between where they were and earth, some of them were still in prison. After about 5 minutes of waiting a face appeared on his screen. "Jeb, about time." Paulo said.

["Yeah, yeah,"] the middle aged human male replied. Jeb had jet black hair and deep blue eyes that. Well one. His other eye he had taken out for a bionic eye a few years back for a 'mission' he had, the same one he got caught. ["You try convincing these guys that I am not going to try and pull anything."]

"I did, they still remember me from when I was there, and they still can't believe that I got my commission back."

["Well nether can the rest of us here. So why'd you call? There has got to be some reason, other then saying hey."]

"I need you to look around a bit for me. Preferably someone who put a contract on a Starfleet officer's head.."

["Will do. Anything in particulier it related to?"]

"Not that I can divulge right now," Paulo replied. "Get back to me when you have something. I am forwarding you some information on how to get in contact with me as this is all unofficial right now and I don't want any records of it anywhere."

["Unofficaly eh? It's going to cost you, you know."]

"Standard fee, and I will see if I can get you a nicer cell, maybe something with a view," Paulo offered.

Jeb thought about it for a moment, ["deal. You will hear back from me within 72 hours."] At that the screen went black again. Paulo leaned back in his chair and looked around. Now that, that was out of the way he needed to get onto the other topic at hand.

He needed to see if he could get some information on their current mission. He would rather go into a place knowing something, then get blown up then going into a situation not knowing anything and still getting blown up. At that Paulo started going over some information.

It was about 2000 hours by the time Paulo realized that he was getting hungry and most of the intelligence staff and left for the day. "Well, I guess I better go," Paulo said to himself. "Computer save all information and lock terminal," Paulo ordered. A beep was his confirmation as he picked up a few of his pads and headed out of the intelligence CNC to go to his quarters to get some food.

When Paulo got back to his quarters he had a message waiting for him "Computer, play message."

Jeb appeared on the screen in a darkened room. ["Paulo, whatever this is about you can consider the deal off! This person who put a hit out is one nasty person. He has enough money to buy out anyone and anything, even members of Starfleet. He has agents all over the place, some even sleepers. O go...."] At that the message ended. "This isn't good," Paulo said. "Computer delete message and log." This wasn't good at all.

"Three Days"

8-ball Hunter

It had been three days since the incident in the kindergarten class.

8-ball had lied to Mrs. Edelstein, the teacher, and said that she had gotten sick in the middle of class, which is why she ran out without a word. Mrs. Edelstein seemed to fall for this but said that next time 8-ball should tell somebody where she was going. Little Melanie was scared to death, Mrs. Edelstein said. 8-ball sourly said that next time she would stop to say 'Hey, i'm dying here' and then puke all over Mrs. E. for good measure. Mrs. Edelstein had not been amused.

8-ball hadn't managed to make herself go back to the kids yet. She didn't know what the fuck had happened to her back there but she sure as hell knew that she didn't want it to happen again. She had decided not to tell Ella or Indy or even Vrih about what had happened. . .that way led to madness, i.e. starfleet shrinks. 8-ball was quite content in the knowledge that she was probably the only person on this boat who didn't go to a counselor for one reason or another and had no interest in breaking her shrink-free record. Therefore, no talking to anybody.

The only problem with this enlightened course of action was that it left 8-ball alone to deal with whatever the hell was going on. If this was a one-time deal, 8-ball could live with that. She had her stupid freakout and now she was better. If every time 8-ball went to a kindernargeten class she was gonna see dead kids, something would have to change. 8-ball might not like kids but visions of dead children weren't exactly anyone's cup of tea.

8-ball lied again the next day and said she was still feeling pretty sick. Mrs. Edelstein asked if 8-ball had considered going to sickbay. Could be the signs of some form of shipwide alien virus or other such hilarity. Since 8-ball wasn't actually sick, she knew this wasn't the case, but she understand Mrs. Edelstein's reasoning. On a ship like the Galaxy, it would be perfectly normal to have some weird shipwide alien virus taking out everybody left and right. 8-ball was kind of surprised it hadn't happened already.

The third day 8-ball didn't have to go back to work with the children, which was good because she had drank a good deal the day before while brooding about dead little Azra visions, and hangover + children was never a happy equation. Unfortunately for 8-ball, she did have to be on duty in sciences and was forced to deal with annoying people who continued to talk far too loud. Not enjoyable but better than dealing with the kids.

But now three days had gone by and it was time to go back.

8-ball was very unhappy about this 'having to go back' thing. She desperately wanted to find some way to get out of having to go back. But with the exception of telling somebody about the hallucinations of dead little children or suddenly developing a sudden allergy to anything under five feet, 8-ball couldn't figure a way out of it. She still had at least 25 hours left of this stupid community service BS and she wasn't going to get thrown off the Galaxy because of it. Certainly not when she had finally managed to snag herself a boyfriend.

8-ball sat up on her bed and held her teddy bear close to her. Eptgac's head was sadly sagging to the left and his innards, white, fluffy strands of cotton, were starting to fall out from a large hole in his neck onto her blue bedsheets. She shoved the cotton back in, pulled it out slowly to play with it, and shoved it back in again.

"Personnal log," 8-ball said aloud to her empty room as she played with Eptgac's fuzzy entrails. "Well, so. . . this sucks. I mean, I don't know what the fuck is happening. If the ship was going through another phase of 'Look, everybody gets to see dead people', I'd have heard about it by now, so whatever happened with Melanie a few days ago was just something that happened to me. I guess a shrink would say I have to come to terms with what happened or some other total crap. I don't know."

"I knew this guy once at the academy, pretty cute, Betazoid fellow, but he had been in this huge fire when he was a kid and there were burn scars all down his lower back and legs and all the other good parts on the lower body of a man. It  was too bad, too, because it pretty much virginized him for the rest of his life, and he was such a good looking guy. Kind of funny, too. I can't remember his name right now, exactly, but it was something like Aric. It wasn't Aric but it was something kind of like it. Anyway, Aric-guy started having these nightmares and one time we were studying in the library and he had this flashback thing right in front of me. . .completely freaked me out because I was stupid and didn't know any better. Eventually he dropped out of the Academy because he just couldn't take it. The teachers said he had some kind of postraumatic stress disorder thingie, where he'd relive stuff, and it was just too much for him."

"A part of me thinks that maybe I have that, and I need to be careful so that nobody figures it out, and another part of me thinks I'm just being really fucking stupid. I mean, I can't really have that postraumatic thingbecause I wasn't really that traumatized. I mean, Aric-guy's parents were freaking killed in that fire and he was physically scarred and all sorts of stuff, but Azra and I didn't even really like each other that much and then she just died. And yeah, I saw her die but I mean, who doesn't see people die around here? I mean, The Galaxy is like a big ship full of people who just live for trauma, I swear. Jesus, I don't have anything to complain about. I mean, my best friend on the ship has a fucking mechanical voice thing because she's so screwed up. I mean, I love Ella but she's obviously a little screwy to do that to herself. And the thing is, she's got reason, too, to be fucked up. Jesus, I don't know what that guy did to her when he kidnapped her, and I really don't want to. I just saw this kid die, and I shouldn't be all that upset about it, especially when we knew each other for like a day. I don't get to be traumatized for a day's worth of work. KADEN gets to be traumatized, wherever he is, because he lost his mom AND his sister AND lived through the ship crash at Trill. Azra was just this girl to me, this little chore. I don't get to be upset about this. So I can't have that post traumatic thingie. I have to go through real trauma for that."

8-ball pulled out an extremely long strand of teddy bear stuffing and idly started twirling it around her finger. "Whatever happened. . .it has to be just a one time thing. Just a little weird-out. That's okay. You know, kid dies. I don't have to be exactly happy about it. One time freak out. But this can't keep up. I have to go back to the class and if it starts to happen again. . .well, I'll just have to stop it. Because I can't be the victim here. I don't get to be."

8-ball dumped Eptgac on the bed, left him slightly disembowled upon the sheets, and put on her shoes. "Time to go," 8-ball said outloud. "Time to go face the munchkins of hell. Maybe I'll be lucky. Maybe the terror twins will be vomiting on each other again. That's always a barrel of laughs, and besides, projectile vomit won't remind me of days already gone by. This is now. This is present. All that other shit has already gone, so it's fucking useless to worry about it. At least, that sounds good on paper right?"

8-ball shook her head. "End personal log," she said, and left her quarters.

"Dead Contacts Over Pepsi"

Lt. Jg. Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Office

Paulo looked over at the time. He should report in and give Cora a update. Paulo got up and headed for her office and hit the chime. "Come," came from inside and Paulo walked in. "What have you got Paulo?" Cora asked.

"Not much yet. All the Intelligence channels are locked up with so much traffic so it's harder to get information about the area of space we are going into," Paulo started his report as he sat down. "The entire intelligence community is up in arms currently as they try to find out who leaked the information."

Cora just shook her head. The situation was dicey at best. "That's nothing new. I have a feeling it will be that way for some time. More importantly however what were you able to dig up?"

"Well it seems that the Hydran's consider the place some kind of religious center. Digging into it a little, this belief seems to stem from about the time they gained warp travel," Paulo reported. "It looks like they lost contact with them a few hundred years ago and basicly forgot where the place was. Digging in a little more it also seems that the Breen may also have some claim to the planet, for religious reasons, but this has not been confirmed."

"Also, as of last reports a Hydran battle cruiser was in orbit with what seemed like more ships waiting in the outer edges of the system. This could causes us some trouble if they decide to fight."

At that Cora just smiled, "Trouble is our middle name. If it wasn't we'd have no need for these last minute pow wow session on how to keep things from going to hell. Anyway that is an interesting bit of information. This whole news leak thing truly worries me."

"Agreed, and I don't like like how I can't find any information about the leak, or that SFI is being really closed libbed about the whole thing. I am used to being in the dark, but not on something like this. There is something going on deep within the Federation, and I just have a bad feeling the shit is going to hit the fan pretty soon," Paulo said as he looked over to the replicator.

"Do you want anything? I could really use something to drink," Paulo asked.

"Yeah a raktajino or skip that simply a Pepsi would be just fine. You're right something is happening deep within and I don't like that thought. Of course we don't have any proof of anything other than that press leak unless we can dig up more information," Cora was thinking out loud now.

Paulo smiled at the sound of the old earth drink. "Computer, 2 Pepsis, one with cherry added." A few second later two glasses appeared with he drinks. "Which one has the cherry added?" Paulo tried smelling, but that didn't work.

Cora was lost in thought for a moment. Something about all of this just wasn't making sense. Something more than some reporter getting a scoop on a story.

Paulo finally tested one for taste and found it had a hint of cherry in it. "Ahh, this is mine," Paulo said as he walked back over and handed Cora her drink. "Yeah, but I don't like how it got reported, like the reporter know this was going to cause something, which makes me think there is something else at work here."

She took a sip of her drink. "Yeah I've been having that same thought. As much as we need to find out everything that's going on here. I have a gut feeling we aren't going to like the answers."

"Agreed," Paulo replied as he took a sip of his drink. "To many things are coming to a head at once. I was in contact with a counterpart of mine who's pretty high up in SFI and he is at a loss, or he isn't telling me. Probably the latter."

That last comment caught Cora's full attention, "Talk to me Paulo. What exactly do you mean he isn't telling you?"

"He knows something is going to happen, but he isn't telling me. It's like he doesn't know if he can trust me, and I have known him since the Academy when I was interning at SFI. I can see it in his face when he is lying, or not telling the full truth. And also that some of my contacts have disappear or been found dead while they were trying to get me information is not pleasing."

Cora took a sip of her drink and simply nodded, "Yeah that is more than a bit disconcerting. Keep your eyes and ears open. If any of us find out anything more we'll let the other know. The last thing we need for Galaxy's crew is to walk into a trap."

"Agreed."

"One more thing, how is your other unofficial assignment going?" Cora as interested to know if he'd uncovered anything there.

"My contact is dead... I think whoever set this up has a lot of connections as he found out really fast that someone was looking for him or her. This is going to be harder then I thought," Paulo replied as he stood up after finishing his drink.

The look on Cora's face said it all. "Understood. We live in perilous times." She then finished off her drink effectively dismissing this particular conversation.

"Brass Gossip."

With newly minted Admiral John Q Bhrode and Admiral Jurgan Hoth.

Location: The USS ZEUS, flagship of Brhode's Olympus Fleet.

"IT"S A GODDAMN DISASTER, IS WHAT IT IS!" Bhrode bellowed, his fist landing upon the smooth, polished surface of his desk. On the viewscreen before him, Admiral Jurgan Hoth, a long time "hawk" in the Federation hierarchy, nodded an affirmation with a scowl placed deeply on his aged face.

"I agree. Just between you and I John, sometimes I feel the Federation would be better served as an Empire. One or two strong men making the difficult descisions for the betterment of the galaxy."

Bhrode grunted an affirmation.

"Did you see the morning's FNN broadcast? There are crowds of lazy, beatnick tree huggers waving signs and having thier little sit ins all across Earth. Hand cuffing themselves to trees and singing campfire songs about giving peace a chance. What I wouldn't give to see these moron's beamed aboard a Borg hive ship to see if the drones would like to have a little jammy jam party." the commanding officer of the Olympus Fleet mused.

"I trust that you saw the footage of the woman with knotted hair spitting upon Captain Rhodes and calling him a 'baby killer'." Hoth spat. "Disgusting. People die all the time in space. It's a sacrifice we are prepared for when we slap on our first pip. She's lucky Dusty didn't spit right back at her."

"What is this I hear about DeMercereau calling herself 'the sword'?" Brhode muttered, silently pondering the nicknames he could bestow upon himself.

Hoth chuckled, a dry and raspy noise that sounded like leaves being raked in the fall.

"The woman quelled a riot in Paris by allegedly reading the UFP charter."

Bhrode's face filled with disbelief.

"You can't be serious."

"You have known me for a long time, my friend. I never joke." Hoth replied.

"What the hell is this universe coming to?" Brhode pondered aloud as he took a rag and shined up a spot on his Hirogen skinned boots.

"It get's worse. Commander Thomas is pleading insanity in his trial. Throw that alongside the Trill petitioning that he stand trial on Trill and the whole debacle is going to drag out even longer. You should have just killed the man when you had the chance, John." Hoth stated matter of factly.

"Don't think I hadn't thought of it. M'Kantu and his people would have been a problem though."

"Speaking of which, what is the alleged "ship-of-the-line" up to these days?" Hoth said sourly.

"Last report from Streely shows that they have picked up Rear Admiral Proctor. That should be quite a treat for the kids. Apparently they have been detoured from Deep Space 5 to sift through some ruins."

"Mirusa IV. Apparently we have lost an archeologist and with such close proximity to the Hydrans, Price ordered the ship to investigate. High degree of probibility that this could get ugly. Will the Olympus Fleet be standing by?" Hoth asked.

"CHRIST NO! You have to let go of the back of the bike sometime. They are on thier own. Olympus Fleet will be pulling recon duty. With the Borg treaty Price negotiated set to expire soon , the Fleet is getting nervous that the Borg are already moving." Bhrode said.

"Your right, Jurgan. With all these loose cannon, fringe elements ticking away like the time bombs that they are, and Empire would be an interesting concept."

"Something for the scholars to debate, old friend. Congratulations on your promotion. Hoth out!"

"The Doctors Talk Politics"

Ensign Eytan, Medical Officer

Lt. Klaus Fienberg, Chief Medical Officer

Usually, Eytan walked through the hallways of the Galaxy with a bit of a bounce in his step, always excited about the day and what it promised. But not today. Not after what he'd just watched the night before. He stalked into sickbay with a frown on his face, not even acknowledging the presence of the nurses and other doctors on duty as he made his way into Dr. Fienberg's office. Eytan walked through the door without even making his presence known, and he stared at Fienberg for a moment before speaking.

"Have you seen the FNN broadcast yet?" he asked directly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Klaus knew the question was coming, just wasn't sure who would say it. "That they were quite a bit too....how do some people say it...Spot on?"

"So you *were* there," Eytan clarified. "I figured that was so."

Klaus realized what he said, but didn't regret it. "Consider yourself lucky you weren't aboard. I know I do....but that doesn't mean I wasn't present."

"So what do you think of the Federation keeping it under wraps? I don't think I'd be able to keep my involvement in something as important as that a secret."

"I personally agreed with the need to classify the battle, even with the loss of life. Consider the panic, fear, and paranoia that must be spreading through the Federation right now. Consider the mistrust for the government. I can see it in your eyes...." Klaus was solemn as ever. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. He'd lived through the battle, but seeing it made public made it seem more real to him.

Eytan frowned. "Why shouldn't people lose faith in the government after something like this?" he asked. "I understand that I'm still fairly new to this side of the galaxy, sir, and I'm not completely familiar with your politics yet, but last night as I listened to that report I couldn't help feeling betrayed. From the moment I decided to remain aboard Voyager, all I heard was how great the Federation is, how perfect it is, how it's the only government out there that doesn't treat its people like lesser-thans. Don't you think that all that panic, fear, and paranoia that's spreading through the Federation now could have been avoided if the Council had been up-front about everything from the very beginning?"

"No Goverment is perfect, no matter much they seem or, or what people say about it! It's Naive to believe so. And to my own regret, I wasn't aboard to help the medical staff."

Eytan frowned when Fienberg called him naïve. Maybe he had been, but was that his fault? Before the Federation, he hadn't exactly seen very many beneficent governments in his life. "So where were you, then?"

"I was off on some insane adventure on a bio-ship of sorts trying to blow up a minefield with my mind! Right now I would have given anything to have been aboard....but my expertise was needed elsewhere. They say I saved lives, helped open the door for the 12th fleet....and you heard what happened to them..."

"Yeah." Eytan shook his head. "I'm still not happy about this. I feel like I'm part of the lie. When people see me in this uniform they're supposed to trust me and feel safe. Now they'll wonder what my real intentions are, whether or not I truly value their safety." He sighed and looked down. "What's worse is I'm afraid that I'll feel exactly the same way every time I look in the mirror now..."

"Don't be concerned with that the uniform says. Do what your heart says. Do what you think is right. When you look at yourself in the mirror, see yourself, not the uniform." Klaus turned away for a moment. "I apologize for calling you Naive, but in a sense it's true. Same for myself. We all are, in a sense, and in more ways than one. There is a saying on Earth. The pot calling the kettle black." He turned back to Eytan. He hadn't known the young man long, but felt the connection.

"You may be my subordinate, but you heal others. With me, if you heal others, I see you as a brother. A fellow. I respect you."

The younger doctor nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir, that means a lot to me."

"All I can say is that in the long run..... The PR department of the Federation is going to be doing some damage control for a long time. So many years of pain and strife. Every day I hope they end. Everyday I hope we can return to our original purpose."

Eytan considered what the Federation's original purpose really was, then nodded. "As do I, sir," he replied. "I'd better get out of here. I have some things I need to take care of before my shift tonight." He turned and walked to the door leading out of Fienberg's office, then turned to face him again. "Thank you, Doctor," he added.

Klaus looked at the Brenari closely. "You're quite welcome."

Eytan smiled slightly and nodded, then turned and walked out of the office. He still wasn't completely sure what to think about all this, but he certainly felt a lot better than he had before. ~I'll say one thing about Fienberg, he's got a way with words...~

"In or Out."

Ensign T'Ashaya

Lt. Commander Hwii'' (NPC)

Cetacean tanks - Main dolphin habitat

= = =

T'Ashaya sat with her feet dangling in the pool, waiting. It was a ritual, really. She, clad in her green and black wet suit, sat at the water's edge, waiting. It was part and parcel of making sure the dolphins' needs were met, part and parcel of taking care of them and looking after their needs aboard this ship.It was part and parcel of her own needs, as well.

She needed the dolphins to accept her because these waters, these artificial systems, were as close to real ocean as the Vulcan Tsunami would be able to come during her time aboard the Galaxy. If the aquatic crew beings to which these oceans belonged did not accept her, than T'Ashaya would be alone indeed: exiled to the inky black of space, exiled to dry land.

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all./ The quote came to T'Ashaya unbidden. It contained her blood - it was her blood. The surf drove the beat of her heart.

The whales aboard the ship had already accepted her, already invited her into their waters, but their domain was limited. Unless the dolphins, the Tritonians, accepted her, she could not call these waters her home. With such an exile, T'Ashaya might as well be dead.

Four bottle nosed dolphins, four Tritonians, called the artificial ocean within the Galaxy home. One by one, the dolphins swam near where her feet dangled. Each one examined her in turn. Each one, in turn, invited her into the water. Only one hung back, apparently reserving judgment. He was the oldest of the pod and the only one who did not work in Stellar Cartography. He was called Hwii'' by the others in the pod, Lieutenant Commander Hwii'' on his Starfleet record. He alone, of all Tritonians, worked in Engineering, and it was on his approval T'Ashaya waited.

As she waited, her mind churned. The biggest topic, what to do about Sef? On that topic, she hadn't made up her mind yet. She knew she would be forced to do so soon. The biggest news story in Federation history confirmed that for her.

She gently kicked her feet in the water, playing at stirring the water into eddies. Her mind still worked at digesting the latest bomb that had been dropped by FNN: Havras. Vulcan, already cooling to the Federation, would be a hotbed of political discussions about now, T'Ashaya figured. In or out. You can't be both. That would be the topic of conversation, in one form or another. How long did she have before her in-laws sent a message, or worse, came calling, demanding that she and Sef formalize their relationship, demanding that T'Ashaya take her place among the semi-hereditary politicos as Sef's bondmate and thus mistress of his estate?

If she wanted it all, the position, the title, the estate, T'Ashaya knew she could have it. She could expose Sef, and her brother, to public ridicule and shame on Vulcan. While their 'lifestyle,' their existence was, for the most part, acceptable on Earth, on Vulcan such things weren't accepted as natural, weren't considered 'logical.'

T'Ashaya knew the topic was always on her brother Samek's mind. How much longer could Sef hide? How long before Samek and he had to reveal the truth? In or out, Sef. In. Or. Out. She could almost hear her brother saying it, pleading with Sef, the son of prominent members of the Vulcan Senate, to just out himself and be done with it.

But it wasn't that simple in Sef's mind. Nothing ever was that simple.

How much more public ridicule could T'Ashaya stand? As a surfer, she had already been labeled borderline, but as a woman unable to convince a male in pon farr that he should have sex with her? Her choices were limited: accept that she would considered defective by a large section of the male population of Vulcan and never get a mate, or be the one to reveal Sef's 'illogic' and play the wronged bondmate. Doing that, she would get everything that should have been hers, everything that should have been his. The whispers would die down soon enough and Sef's parents would be obliged to help find her a 'more suitable' mate.

Become a defective woman. Rock. Become involved in Vulcan's political structure, with all that entailed. Hard place. T'Ashaya didn't want any of it.

The barest brush of a flipper against her leg broke the Vulcan Tsunami's introspection. Finally, Hwii'' glided over, as if he still wasn't certain. On his head and along his sides she could see the thumb sized pock marks where the environmental suit controls connected into his nervous system, making the unit an extension of his being and not just a small, more mobile tank for the aquatic officer. It took him several passes before he finally bumped rubbed firmly, against her legs, before he finally made a sound.

The universal translator choked on the phrase, missing half of the subsonics and ultrasonics of the words. T'Ashaya's own hearing didn't catch them all, either, but she knew the meaning of the phrase all too well.

In or out. You can't be both.

The operations officer slipped into the water without hesitation. In. If she got her choice, she'd rather be in, at least in this situation. On the others, she knew she would have to decide soon, but those decisions would wait. For now, she was in the water and her mind could not be out of it.

"You Weren't Supposed To See That"

Naranda Roswell and Saia

***Quarters of Bran, Nara and Saia***

"Computer, stop playback!"

Saia turned around sharply from the screen and looked at Nara confused.

Nara walked further out of her room still holding the boot she was putting on. She had been getting dressed when she overheard the feed Saia had somehow got to play. "How did you figure out how to play that?"

Saia was wondering what Nara was so upset about, "They taught us that at school for Current Events."

Nara knew that, "But why did you play that particular one?"

Saia shrugged, "Sam suggested I see it."

"I don't want you seeing it."

Saia was beyond confused now, "Why?"

"It concerns events you have no need to know about right now."

"Why do you get to know and I don't?" Saia was getting upset now too.

"Because I was there and there are some things better unknown."

"Why?" Saia more demanded than questioned.

Nara opened her mouth and closed it. She wasn't sure how to answer that. She shook her head, "Let me start over." She sat by Saia, "I'll tell you about it later. I don't want you listening to what some reporter THINKS happened. Don't pay too much attention to what others here are saying either." Nara pulled on the other boot thinking to herself, ~Politics aren't for children.~

She saw the feed when it played originally. Regardless of that, she would keep to the secret herself. If asked, she would say nothing. Partly because she just didn't want to relive it and wanted to keep it from Saia as well. She should had known better. News travels. As the days went by with Saia, Nara was realizing just how little she really could protect Saia from. That realization scared the wits out of her.

And of course, she got a note from the professor who was sending her and Saul their correspondance courses about protocol, reminding them of the actions for this sort of thing. Nara would go beyond that and just keep her mouth shut. She wouldn't act as if she didn't know anything. She'd act like she didn't want to talk about it. Which is the truth.

"So it really happened." Nara's reverie was broken by the softly spoken question.

Nara looked at her a moment before answering, "It happened. Past tense. It's over now."

As Nara stood and they walked out the door to begin their day, Nara wondered how much of that was true. The actual battle was over, but was it really, in fact, the beginning of something much worse?

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

OOC: The "feed" Nara is referring to is the current unveiling of the Havras battle.just didn't wanna paste it in.since it's been done so many times.

-Tales of the Dominion War-(Borrowing the little gimmick from Miranda for Dr. Fienberg, since Stel wasn't aware the federation existed that far back)

"Cloak & Scalpel" Pt-1

Ens. Dr. Klaus Fienberg Team 1 Combat Medic

And the NPCS

Lt.Cdr. Mark Wallberg Team 1 Leader

Centurian Tovil Sorek Team 2 Leader

1st.Lt. Max Ritter Team 1 Demolitions Expert

Warrior 1st Class Jorik Team 1 Member

Lt. Ra'nesh Team 2 Member

S-Lt. Soras Tonil Team 2 Computer Expert

Warrior 2nd.Class Krorot Team 2 Member

Ens. Ray Burns Team 1 member

And.....Ens. Dr. Gunther Engleman Team 2 Combat Medic

Location: Cardassian Space, Sin'rat System, Mid-2374

The green glow of the inside of a Romulan shuttle. seemed very warm and inviting. Not something one would expect from young Klaus, but considering the situation they were about to go into, it was understandable.

They were all clad in Starfleet issue EVO suits. Definitely a joint operation, given the Klingon sitting next to Klaus. At least the thought of his friend Gunther as the combat medic on the other team comforted him.

No one was quite sure why the two were selected for such mixed strike teams. One could only figure a familiarity with xenobiology.

Romulans and Vulcans, despite millenia of seperation, were still quite similar in the composition of thier bodies. 2 years in the Vulcan Medical institute help out in this respect.

The Klingon next to Klaus turned to him and spoke. "I am Jorik, song of Rosh. You appear to be in...distress." He understood humans to an extent. "I know your fear. Some humans lack the stomach for battle. But do understand, this will bring us great glory and Honor! You look like you might have some fight in you, lurking under the surface. You will be amoung the victorious." He slapped Klaus on the shoulder like an older brother. Klaus smiled at this.

"Ok people," interupted Lt.Cdr Wallberg. "Our Mission is clear. Once we're in space, team 2 will be heading up torwards an airlock near the command center. Once they have it, they will be lending us whatever support we need while we plant our explosives on the main reactor of the station. With this station down we will be able to continue to launch cover strikes on cardassian and dominion shipping, as well as any installation of our choosing." He smiled a moment. "You know, they said the survivability of this mission wasn't the best. Almost not worth it. But we were each chosen by our governments for our expertise and skill. If anyone can do this, we can." He tapped his commbadge. ["You ready over there Tovil?"]

The snide romulan's voice chimed in over the commbadge. ["Ready and willing Lt-Commander."]

One of the romulan pilots in the shuttle turned around. "Lieutenant Commander, We've reached the destination." he smirked and turned back to the console, immediately targeting the sensors array.

"Well, putting your helmets on might be a good idea. I hope you've had EVO training recently."

The small cardassian outpower waited in the night of space. It was shaped like the Center Section of a Nor-class station. The 2 romulan shuttles decloaked suddenly, and destroyed the communications and sensors arrays of the station and quickly recloaked. They parted ways and decloaked again.

The side airlock hatch on the shuttle opened, and the EVO clad strike team on shuttle 1 departed. "I don't like this" was the last thing that Klaus said before jumping out. He clumsily fired his thrusters, nearly slamming into the station head first.

"Damnit Fienberg! Be careful!"

Klaus clutched his medical kit and type 2 closely. "I'm sorry sir, I'm just...nervous."

"Well, Snap out of it! This isn't the time or place." Klaus nodded as Commander Wallberg cluched the front of Klaus' EVO suit, the pulled then pushed him inside the open airlock, following the medic in.

Again, Klaus had a concern. "What if our suits are damaged? How will we be extracted?"

"Once we're done and the shield generator is destroyed we'll be BEAMING out of here!"

Lt. Ritter spoke up at this point, the green bands on his suit revealing his status as a marine. "Thats reassuring."

"Can the chatter." Said Wallberg as Jorik climbed inside the Airlock, lugging his mek'leth in one hand.

The Familiar voice of Tovil Sorek crackled in. ["Team 1, this is team 2. What is your status."]

Wallberg quickly replied. ["We're about to breach the airlock. How about you."]

["We are already inside, and have taken a small computer terminal. Opening your airlock."]

The circular outer airlock rolled shut, following by a short pressurization period.

"Ready Up fellow Warriors! For today we spill the blood of our Enemies!" cried Jorik as the inner door rolled open. Immediately cardassian phaser fire began striking all around them.

Klaus had a fateful thing to say at that point. "This might be harder than we thought!"

"No More Words" ~ In which an arguement is had, and hard realities are accepted.

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer

Lieutenant JG Rima Pennington, Tactical Officer

****

Executive Officer's Quarters,
Deck 5, USS Galaxy-A

All things reach their natural conclusion.

When he'd called Elisa back, they'd talked for a while, and he'd managed to dodge the question about Intelligence again. Instead, he'd brought up her boyfriend, which had only gotten him a non-so-gentle inquiry into his lack of a love life. Between that and the advice that Corran had offered him before their daily game of basketball, he'd pretty much been forced to take a more proactive stance regarding his pseudo-relationship with Rima.

So he'd invited her over for dinner, and done his best to cook them both a meal that would be a little less bland than the replicator rations they'd been living on. While he was waiting for the duck to cook, he sat down on his couch, pushing aside the blankets that she'd been using.

It was the same one that she'd occupied for a couple nights in a row. Rima was still the most stubborn person he knew, and didn't want to take the effort to talk to her roommate about the drunken snoring problem she seemed to have.

For some reason, she'd found it easier to haul her bedding to his quarters than the have the five minute conversation. Sometimes, she just didn't make sense. He picked up the pillow from her quarters and examined it. Patterns of cranes in flight decorated the oriental pillowcase.

Dropping it onto the couch next to him, he settled in to wait for the duck to finish cooking. She'd be off duty in a few hours, and would be dropping by. So this was it, he thought, looking over at the table he had set for them. Time for him to press the issue past her generally apathetic outlook.

The chime rang. Either it was somebody else, or she was really early. Like not having a shift early. Pushing himself up from the couch, he went to answer the door. When he triggered the door sensors, she nearly ran him over storming into the cabin.

Rima was having, to put it mildly, a bad day.

She had too many days that didn't qualify for that title, she thought in hindsight, and revised her earlier though to 'an exceptionally bad day'. It had been going fairly well. Looking forward, despite herself, to dinner with Cassius, she'd gone down to Holodeck 2 for some swimming with Chase Remur. That had been fun enough. But then her shift had come around, and everything had changed.

Quickly sidestepping the charging young woman, he turned around to meet her eyes. She was pouting on the couch. "Should I ask what happened?" Cass asked, walking over to sit down next to her.

"If you want to," she replied, still all scowls.

"I do. You're here pretty early. So what happened?" he pressed the inquiry, wracking his brain for what could possibly be bothering her. It could be any number of things, given her general personality and the ease with which she let things get under her skin. Given the time, though... He nearly smacked himself when it hit him, and he knew what she was going to say before she spat it out.

"Those bastards took my shift," she spat hatefully. "They replaced me with some... Nausicaan. First they bumped me back to *Delta* Shift when Darkstar showed up, then they kicked me off the bridge for some ensign. Why is it that whenever somebody new shows up, I get my shift fucked with? Can't there be any stability in my life? I used to be your 'Girl Friday', Cass. I was the one who had the promising tactical ability. And right when I start to give a damn about it, I get booted off the bridge. Where is the justice in that?"

She wanted, very badly, to lash out and break something. It was immature, and she knew it. But this was one item on a very short list of things that Rima Pennington actually gave a shit about, and it was really bothering her.

Cass wasn't really sure how to respond to that. He wasn't surprised, obviously. Rima's acidic temperament usually got her into trouble with her superiors in the tactical department. He'd been the only one who had really tolerated it, and only because he'd considered her his protege. "Life isn't fair, Rima. If you want the bridge shift back, you're going to have to show Lieutenant' Taern that you want it. So far, his performance reports on you haven't exactly been glowing. Ensign G'Bat'ea, on the other hand, has nothing but praise from his former superiors. And he was trained by the Zakdorn Tactical Academy. It's not the best training a tactician can have, but it's damn close."

"I don't care who trained the bastard, Cass. Have you read the file? He was demoted for not following orders. My fuck-ups haven't caused me to be demoted," Rima continued her rant. "I told you I wanted another shot at my career. How is this another shot?"

"Rima," he said as the timer on his duck started to go off. "I can't offer you your bridge shift. I can't make your career. When we had the chance to do that, you fought me. Now you want it? Okay. Make it happen for yourself. Now before you go shouting at me anymore, I need to go take the duck out of the oven. Think about what I said, okay?"

He got up and disappeared into the kitchen area of his quarters. There were benefits to being a senior officer, like having a room, aside from the bathroom, living room/office and the bedroom, that you could devote to whatever you wanted. Cass kept a kitchen and a more private office back there. The savory smell of roasted duck was beginning to fill his quarters.

He came back a moment later, carrying a covered dish in each hand. Walking over to the coffee table that was set in front of the couch and set them down.

"You cooked me duck?" Rima asked, sitting on the couch. She'd calmed down now, though she was still feeling out of sorts about it. However, Cass had unknowingly hit on one of her favorite meals, and that definately helped. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Really? I thought I'd had you over for dinner when you were my ACTO," he smiled, heading back to the kitchen for plates and silverware. "I enjoy cooking a great deal. A hidden talent. Plate?"

"Yes," Rima replied, eager to try his cooking. He didn't know it, but he's stumbled onto one of her favorite meals. She took the plate from his hand and served herself some potatoes and asparagus, waiting for him to cut the duck. Maybe this would get her out of her funk.

They ate in comfortable near-silence, making unimportant small talk for about thirty minutes, just enjoying the meal. As they reached the meal's natural conclusion, Cass decided that now was probably the ideal time to broach the ideal of their relationship.

"That was very good, Cass," she said, pleasantly surprised. The food had put her in a good mood, though the day's troubles were still evident at the back of her mind.

"Thank you," he replied as they began clearing the dishes away. It was probably the best meal he'd had in days. Nothing quite like unreplicated cooking. And the compliment from Rima boosted his hopes for talking to her about their relationship, or lack thereof. As they carried the dishes into the kitchen and settled them into the sink, he turned to look at her. "Rima?"

"Yeah, Cass?" she asked, running the sink water and preparing to work on the dishes. It was one of her quirks, but she felt like scrubbing dishes was goof for her peace of mind. It helped her work out tension. Not that peace of mind was a common thing for Rima.

"I think it’s time we talked about how we feel about each other,” he stated, placing the last of the dishes into the sink. It wasn’t how he’d been expecting to have this conversation, standing over a pile of dirty dishes. But there it was. Some things were too important to wait for. For Cass Henderson, the quirky, neurotic Rima Pennington was one of those things.

“I think it’s not,” she replied quickly, eyes carefully avoiding any part of Cass. Why did he have to go and ruin a perfectly good evening by bringing up something that was only going to result in an arguement. What they had now was good for her. Any more commitment, and she'd be hurting both of them. "You know I don't want to talk about that."

"And why is that, Rima?" Cass prodded, sitting down at a table in the kitchen, leaving her to the dishes. She was working furiously already, irritated by the subject change. "Because it's convenient not to talk about it?"

"Yeah," she replied, grinding her teeth together. "I like the relationship we have now. It's convenient for me."

Now it was Cass' turn to grind his teeth. He leaned forward at the table and cocked his head in her direction. "Has it ever occured to you that it may not be even remotely convenient for me, Rima? I'd like something a little more substantial in a relationship that I value as much as ours. I cared enough about you to go up against a Hydran battlecruiser in a Defiant-Class Escort. The odds on that were astronomically against me, and a lesser man would have left you to the tender mercies of Olegoski and her Hydran thugs."

Rima frowned, and stopped working on the dishes. That wasn't a good sign. Her angry was a bad thing, when she ranted, raged, and poured out her frustration against the grime on the dishes. When she got silent... That was worse.

Finally, she let it all out, shouting in frustration. "I. Don't. Care. I don't care what you want, because I don't have the patience for a relationship. I don't want one, and I'm never going to. That's not who I am, Cassius."

She stoped to take a breath, then resumed in a more subdued tone. "Look, Cass. I like you. I like hanging out with you. Once, in the desolate complete darkness of a Hydran prison cell, I thought I might love you. But I know better than that."

Cass sighed. He wasn't angry. It was hard to be angry with Rima, given how well he thought they understood each other. But even given that, this was a mystery to him. "How? Forgive me, but I don't understand. What could be so horrible about feelings that you've twice admitted to me."

She looked at him sadly. The sudden shift of emotions was typical of her. "I care for you, Cass. But real relationships require total trust, which I can't give. Trust only leads to betrayal. That's why I run when you left with that Andorian bitch. I trusted you not to leave me. Not only did you leave, but you didn't even tell me."

"It was classified, Rima," he replied, rubbing his temples in frustration. "What could I have possibly told you that wouldn't have sounded like a lie? I didn't want to lie to you."

He shrugged, standing up and looking at her. "I work for Starfleet Intelligence. I live my life in secrets. I don't want that with you."

"I'm sorry, Cass. I'm just not good for you," she replied simply, on the verge of tears.

"That's not true," he replied. "I don't love you without your faults. I love you because you're you, faults and all."

"I know. But I don't love me, and so we can't be together," she replied, now crying openly. She just didn't have the energy to fight anymore. "I think I should leave, Cass. You need to be away from me, to gain perspective."

"I..." he started to respond, but she cut him off.

"No. No more words, please," she said, shaking her head. Her long hair had fallen into her eyes, and it irritated her, but she just didn't care to try to fix it. "I have to leave."

And she ran from the room. There was nothing more for Cass Henderson to say. He buried his head in his hands, unsure of what he could possibly do now.

"What does a man do when there are no further steps?" he asked himself. Finding no immediate answer, Cass went to get his coat, then headed for the whale tanks. The serenity of water would help him focus. And he needed to focus, to think.

**** Whale Tank Access Grid, Cetacean Labs, Deck 11, USS Galaxy

Three hours of soul searching later, Cass stood up from the catwalk over the whale tanks. He knew that what Rima had said had been true. She wasn't ready, and she wasn't good for him right now. He knew what he had to do.

It was time for Cass Henderson to move on.

"Play"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Ensign T'Ashaya (The Vulcan Tsunami)

Main Dolphin Habitat

= = =

Nara had known about the pools for awhile, but finally decided to try to visit them. She walked in and smiled thinking Saia would like this place too. Light reflecting from the water made interesting patterns on the walls and ceiling. She stayed near the door, looking for someone, not quite sure it was ok for her to be there and she was in enough trouble as it was.

The water erupted with three pinkish grey forms leaping together in tight formation. A fourth form remained underwater, shadowy, swimming perpendicular to the other three. It looked as if the three young dolphins were leapfrogging over the fourth form, in some sort of aquatic game of catch me if you can.

The fourth form surfaced. It was some sort of humanoid or other, clad in a black and green wet suit. The shape looked female, if one could trust such things through the distorted water, and her long red-gold hair streamed behind her as she took a couple of strokes on the surface to draw in air, before jack-knifing in the water, diving again with a powerful dual kick of her legs.

Nara smiled seeing the creatures jumped and then saw the humanoid, only to see her jump back in. She raised an eyebrow, but content to stand and wait. In the far corner of the room, Lt. Commander Hwii' surfaced, chattering and clacking hysterically. The universal translator kicked in ineffectually, as usual, but part of the intent came through.

"Youthful exuberance!" he chastened, sounding for a moment like an old man standing in his yard and chasing a group of teen-agers away, all the while shaking his rake.

Nara scanned to room hearing a strange voice and noticed it was one of the aquatic creatures. She had heard they could be translated, and she understood them to be quite intelligent, it was still quite an odd thing altogether to hear one speak.

He stopped when he saw Nara, diving in a more fluid imitation of the move the woman had made. A few moments later, the black and green shape emerged, breaking through the mirrored surface of the water with nearly the same fluid grace as the dolphins had before her. She shook her hair out of her face as she bobbed at the surface.

"Can I help you?" the nameless woman asked neutrally. The barest hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips.

Nara smiled, "I was curious about this part of the ship and these crewmembers." She looked at the one that had spoken before, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She looked back to the woman making sure she talked to both of them so as not to be thought as one who excluded the other species.

Hwii' kicked off with a splash and a sound that bordered on 'huffy.' The universal translator could not make sense of it.

Nara raised an eyebrow and smirked. Snooty ones so far.

The Vulcan woman, for now it seemed very obvious that was the woman's race, brushed her hair more firmly back behind her, revealing a slender, pointed ear. She made a few powerful strokes through the water, until she brought herself to an edge and heaved herself onto dry land again before speaking. Two of the other dolphins surfaced near where her feet dangled in the water, playfully nudging at them.

"Please don't be offended by Commander Hwii'," T'Ashaya stated, sounding apologetic. "I have discovered he's a bit of a curmudgeon." She stood, pulling her feet from the water with protests from the two dolphins at the surface.

Nara gave a laugh, "I'll try not to take it personally."

She offered a formal greeting upon standing, raising her hand in the IDIC. "I am Ensign T'Ashaya. You are not interrupting anything. We were," T'Ashaya paused, suddenly embarrassed by the admission she would have to make if she remained strictly truthful about the nature of their activities. Vulcans over the age of first pon farr simply did not 'play.'

"We were engaging in a social activity designed to promote bonding between crewmembers," the Vulcan Tsunami explained quickly. "Such activities are important for the social and emotional health of Tritonians as a species. As I am the only cetacean specialist aboard, I find ensuring that our Tritonian crewmates remain healthy an important use of my time." T'Ashaya decided not to explain that these were her off hours. She also decided it simpler not to try to explain her 'day job'in operations.

Nara nodded. They were playing. "I'm Lt junior grade Roswell and I find it too bad that more of us don't acknowledge their presence. They're part of the crew, and can't walk to 10-4ward or anything, so..." She smiled, "So I think we should come to them." She looked thoughtful, "Though it would be kinda of neat to have some water in 10-4ward and some tunnels..." Her mind wandered wondering if she could convince the right people for some renovations.

One of the dolphins in the tank laughed, tail walking backwards as he did so. Another untranslatable phrase choked the universal translator. He splashed back into the water, continuing to laugh as he did so.

The happy sounds broke Nara from her reverie and she laughed along with the splashing dancer, "They know how to have fun."

"That is Mr. Ki'i," T'Ashaya stated by way of introduction. Her voice arched sharply and her tongue clicked as she stated the name. The Vulcan woman looked as if she were straining slightly, concentrating to make certain she got the sounds exactly right. "He, Tuis, and Star are in stellar cartography. He says to tell you that there are already the conduits of which you speak, but for the most part, only Commander Hwii'' uses them. Commander Hwii'' works in Engineering."

Nara raised and eyebrow, "I'm an Engineer." She turned to him, "Forgive me for not coming to introduce myself earlier."

"I don't think Commander Hwii'' will be persuaded to rejoin us." The Vulcan woman looked in the direction that the commander swam off. He was likely heading back to engineering, away from both the rest of the small pod and most of the other crewmates. She resisted the urge to sigh. Perhaps it was simply too much socialization after too long without such stimulus. She shivered slightly in the cool, by Vulcan standards, room and returned her attention to the newcomer and the remaining dolphins. T'Ashaya remained confident he would eventually warm up.

Mr. Ki'i jumped again, shaking his head, and T'Ashaya turned her attention fully to him. He made a noise that sounded exactly like the one T'Ashaya had just made, at least to human ears. T'Ashaya nodded, and inclined her head slightly toward the sound. She closed her eyes, as if listening intently.

"Forgive me," she stated, sounding a bit sheepish, "but it is Ki'i." She seemed to repeat the sound.

This time the dolphin nodded enthusiastically.

"I have only just begun to try to learn the rudimentaries of the Tritonian language. A good portion of it is well beyond my capability to repeat, but I am making some progress."

Nara smiled to the one Ki'i, "Do you have a nickname?" She was really wanting to touch them, but she wouldn't do that to any other crewmember, so refrained herself.

T'Ashaya and the dolphin both nodded, though the Vulcan did not do so with nearly the same amount of enthusiasm as the dolphin did. "He goes by Key," T'Ashaya explained. "Normally, most Tritonians don't really bother with trying to teach humans correct pronounciation. A good deal of their spoken language contains sounds in the ultrasonic frequencies. I can hear a great deal more of the language than I can repeat. Fortunately, they find most humanoid language stunningly simplistic, so the communication difficulty only goes one way. Key understands that's our way of saying his name. Tuis," T'Ashaya whistled the name, "goes by Twos. Star's name is beyond my ability to repeat, but her name means Star, so that is what she prefers to go by."

She paused and slipped back into the water. "Tritonians are a very tactile species," T'Ashaya offered. "If you have a bathing suit, we could see if they will accept your presence in the pool. We would start by having you sit on the edge, with your feet in the water. If everything goes well, you might be allowed a swim. I cannot make any guarantees. Tritonians make up their own minds about who they will accept and who the will not."

Nara smiled looking at the three dolphins, "I would be willing to try." She looked back out where Hwii' left, "And I'll try to charm Hwii'. Forgive me if I mispronounced it. I'd like to work with him." She looked back at the Vulcan, "Hopefully getting these guys to like me would be easier than getting O'Shea to think better of me." She checked the time and touched the water a moment, "I can go change and be back quickly if now is a good time."

T'Ashaya decided to drop the subject of Commander Hwii'' for the time being. "Yes, I think now is a good time," she confirmed.

"Do you swim well?" T'Ashaya asked suddenly.

Nara smiled, "I'm not an athletic swimmer, but I do swim pretty well."

T'Ashaya nodded and decided not to warn Nara about what might happen if Hwii'' decided to come back and if Hwii'' decided that Lieutenant Roswell shouldn't be in the pool. The chances of either were pretty slim at the moment. Hwii'' seemed to have had his fill of 'interlopers' but the others hadn't, yet, so Hwii'' had retreated to the privacy of the secondary dolphin habitat. 'His tank,' he called it, as opposed to the EV suit, which was his 'small tank.'

"Go ahead and change," T'Ashaya replied. "When you get back, sit on the edge there. If the dolphins accept you, they'll come over and brush by you. If they're not in the mood today, you can always come back tomorrow. For that matter, you can always come back tomorrow and see if Hwii'' is in a better mood, too."

Nara nodded and walked briskly out the door.

***Minutes Later***

Nara resisted to urge to kick in the water as one has a natural tendency to do when sitting with only feet emerged in the cool liquid.

One by one, the younger dolphins slipped up to inspect Nara. One by one they nudged her and seemed to laugh. Their skin seemed almost to smooth to be real, not rubbery or oily, but slick and warm against her legs.

Nara smiled feeling their smooth skin against hers.

"Come play. Come play," the universal translator chirped.

"I've been working with the universal translator," T'Ashaya stated, sounding almost proud. She almost seemed to smile. "It wasn't analyzing for patterns in the subsonic and ultrasonic frequencies. I've been attempting to widen the scan range, because I think that's why the translator chokes on Tritonian, not because there isn't enough language, but because we're not listening to enough of it to hear the words. Adding in referentials for things we don't know about yet will take some time yet, but I do think things are working better."

Nara laughed, "Well, I think it's pretty obvious what they want." She slipped further into the pool, "Okay, let's play."

T'Ashaya considered Nara's choice of words. "I would like it better if you refrained from using that word when you talk about this to others," she stated before slipping under the waters.

Nara looked confused for a moment, then failing to repress a laugh, nodded, "Of course. We are engaging in a social activity designed to promote bonding between crewmembers." Nara rolled her eyes smiling and dove under as well. She found it odd how Vulcans would choose different ways to phrase things as if others were too stupid to realize the meaning. Of course, they were to be humored. It was part of their charm, even if they refused to the fact they had charm.

"Wanna Share?"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Ensign G'Bat'ea

***

Holodeck

Nara looked at the place before her. She had modified it enough to where it wasn't as dull as the default "country landscape" holoprogram. She added a few things to make it more interesting and prettier. She added weather for one. Riding a horse in the rain seemed interesting.

She walked up to the horse. She added a bit of personality to the horse as well as realistic energy levels. Sure you could have it where it would never tire, but she wanted it to be more realistic. She mounted the chestnut colored beast, and got him going. They just walked a bit as Nara got used to the feeling of being on top of an animal again. She smiled remembering how she loved it.

Before long, she had it run along the forest path, jumping over fallen logs and splashing through puddles she added to the program.

The holodeck doors parted admitting Ensign G'Bat'ea, the perplexed look that flashed across his eyes was almost comical. Outside the holodeck had stated that it was loading a Klingon training program; generally Klingon training programs did not include rolling pastures, trees, Terran wildlife or a light misting of rain beginning. Furthermore there did not seem to be any competitors...

Until a four legged, short-haired, hoofed, huffing beast burst through the brush with a petite, slender woman atop of his back. This was not a standard competitor he had come across in the past, but then the Galaxy's program had looked much more updated than any of the others he had utilised. G'Bat'ea prepared himself for an assault as the beast approached.

The horse kept running, but Nara did a double take. She hadn't programmed other humanoids into the program. She slowed the horse and trotted back toward him, "Who are you?"

The young woman was clearly Terran and G'Bat'ea suspected that this was perhaps her program from the suprised look and tone of voice. "I am Ensign G'Bat'ea, tactical - I had booked time in the holodeck starting 5 minutes ago?" He did not recognise the woman but he had not taken time to get to know the crew manifest yet, so that was hardly suprising.

Nara furrowed her brow, "I've only been here for about 10. Are you sure this is the right holodeck?"

G'Bat'ea had been certain he had checked before entering. "Holodeck 2?" He ventured with a little trepidation.

Nara thought a moment and dismounted to horse as she said, "Computer, arch." She walked over and tapped some buttons. "Somehow it got double booked. It's supposed to show an error if it's already booked."

G'Bat'ea shook his head, who said computers did not make mistakes? "Well, I don't suppose this is a combat training program?"

Nara was grumbling at the computer, "Well, it's saying...."

Just then a huge beast appeared and roared, causing the two humanoids to turn. The horse reared and galloped away. That was part of the default programming. Didn't want to run into a bear. Nara almost laughed, "Kinda like a double exposure." She could fight. She looked at the person beside her, "Wanna share?"

The Nausicaan grinned and turned to the beast with an aggressive posture. "It would be my pleasure." He gave the beast a roar of his own.

Nara smirked raising her eyebrow at him. The beast had swung at them and she had ducked and rolled behind a bush. "Computer, batleth." A batleth appeared on the other side of the bush. ~Good place for it, computer!~ She reached out for it and stood before the beast gripping the blade watching where and when she could attack.

G'Bat'ea swiped at the beast's feet with his left leg, sinking low to avoid the sharp talons being thrust in his direction. He sent it off balance then turned it's attention away from the bush with a sharp punch into it's side. He nodded to the woman who now held a bat'leth and retreated backwards, staying just out of reach.

Nara stared at the beast, daring it to come after her. Just as she hoped, he stomped to her and just as it swung again, she lifted the batleth and hit it's arm, but didn't expect the other arm to pick her up and throw her across the nearby tree. A second creature. As she stood, she called out to her stranger turned sudden comrade, "How many are there in this program!"

She blocked a move from the other beast and swung her batleth at it's midsection. It was weakened, but it remained.

G'Bat'ea tore at the wound on the first beast's arm and caused a high-pitched roar of pain to escape it. "Computer, broadsword." As the weapon appeared in his hand he swiped downwards, slashing the beast neatly down its midsection. "Around five?" He guessed, at least that was the standard for this program type.

Nara hit her beast again, causing it to disappear as the other had after G'Bat'ea hit his. Catching her breath, she looked around and stepped closer to him, "Where are the other three?

G'Bat'ea surveyed the horizon around them. "Somewhere?"

Nara tilted her head and gave him a duh look, "That helps, thanks."

A slightly larger beast materialised behind Nara, preparing to swing. "Duck!"

Nara went low and looked behind her.

With that G'Bat'ea thrusted himself clear of the ground and over Nara, landing his broadsword in one of the beast's limbs. He landed awkwardly and rolled to his left side, the beast now behind him, as he turned he saw the talons coming at him faster than he would have imagined.

Nara used the batleth to poke that beast's back. Well, it was more like a stab, really.

The beast's claws came short of their target as it bent backwards in pain, exposing it's delicate regions to the now-levelled broadsword in G'Bat'ea's grip. The male beast soon became rather more of a neuter as a high-pitched squeal threatened to burst their eardrums and the beast fell to the ground with a huge thump and dissappeared.

[Level one complete. Proceed to next level?] The computer chimed cheerfully.

G'Bat'ea looked expectantly at Nara, he hoped that she would choose not to continue, but the warrior and his external character would never let him show it.

Nara grinned at him, "Um. It's fun, but wasn't really expecting to battle today. Up to you."

G'Bat'ea shook his head, and placed the blade of his broadsword into the ground. "I think that shall be enough for today."

She dropped the batleth and extended a hand, "Naranda Roswell, by the way."

G'Bat'ea accepted her hand carefully. "G'Bat'ea. It is...nice to meet you."

She nodded laughing, "Likewise. Interesting way to make a first impression, and I must say, I am pretty impressed."

"I am equally impressed, Ms. Roswell." G'Bat'ea gave her a small bow, the woman had really held her own, better than he might have imagined, she reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite place it.

She smiled and caught her breath. That felt good. Scared the wits out of her, but it was a rush. "I sadly admit I hadn't done that in awhile."

G'Bat'ea sniffed a bit, it was apparent that it had become second nature to her somewhere, perhaps during the war. "It is good to practise, does wonders for the soul."

Nara nodded and asked, "Want to join me in 10-4ward for a drink?" There was something about fighting with someone that automatically made them a buddy. Even if the safeties were on.

G'Bat'ea grunted as he nodded. "That would be acceptable." It was common in Nausicaan tradition to drink after a battle.

"Sharing Makes Me Thirsty: Sequel to Wanna Share"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Ensign G'Bat'ea

***Moments Later In Ten Forward***

After they had gotten their drinks and sat down, Nara asked, "So, what department are you in?"

"I joined Tactical at Starbase 212." G'Bat'ea raised his drink towards Nara. "To battles won."

She laughed and raised her own glass, "To battles won." After she took a sip, she included, "I'm in Engineering. I don't know why, but I've always considered Tactical as a kind of combination of Security and Engineering. Or at the least the bridge between the two to explain why they all wear one color." Nara knew she was pretty much alone in the observation.

Sciences, Medical and Counseling sharing blue made sense. They were all scientific endeavers. Security and Engineering were nothing in the same guild. Yet Tactical seemed to make it make sense. Tactical used the computer systems and sometimes worked with Engineering as projects at times overlapped, yet they were the ones who controlled the shields and shot the weapons, so they were also at times overlapping with Security, bringing Security into the gold group. Red was command, and no one questioned anyone in Red. Well, most no one.

"I had never considered that, Lieutenant, although I had on occasion wondered about the departmental groupings in Starfleet. In Nausicaan military Tactical and Security are grouped in with command and Engineering with the Sciences. It think that is more...logical as the Vulcans would say." It was good to have a conversation about something other than tactics once in a while, even though he knew through habit he'd manage to bring it back round to that at some point. He couldn't help it, he was a warrior by genes and a tactician by training.

"You'd think they couldn't use more than three colors though. Of course in the Sakarian military, we don't use colors to differentiate departments." Nara mused.

"Nor, Nausicaans." G'Bat'ea agreed, it was a...different concept to most naval forces. "Forgive my ignorance, but I don't believe I've heard of the Sakarians."

Nara smiled, "Not ignorance. Not many people have."

G'Bat'ea shrugged a little, he was not a xenologist by any means but a good tactician knew of most military organisations. "I do not suppose you would like to shed some light?"

"There was a big war before I was born and a recent civil war, but otherwise we just keep a military just in case."

"Are they members of the Federation? Or affiliates?" G'Bat'ea was still piecing together who stood where in terms of members, affiliate, protectorates and colonies...

"We've recently become protectorate, amidst the anger it caused for some citizens."

"I know I ask a lot of questions, but one more if you'd mind - where exactly is this planet?" G'Bat'ea was letting his curiosity get the better of him, but although it supposedly killed a Terran feline it would take a lot more to dent a Nausicaan.

Nara smiled, "It's alright." And then she told him where it was.

G'Bat'ea nodded as she spoke, it wasn't an area he was too familiar with. With the exceptions of a few major outposts and systems of which she spoke he was only vaguely able to place the planet. "I see, it is a bit...out of the way it seems."

She smiled, "You could say that. I spent most of my life on a star base though."

"I spent the beginning of my childhood on board our orbital facility, I found it quite educational." G'Bat'ea was sure that Nara had similar experiences in childhood. "It provided a lot of oportunities for early learning."

Nara nodded looking down and thinking, "I can't say I was always itching to leave. It was a good time to spend as a child. Sometimes though, you miss the wind, the sun, and weather. Rain. The sound of birds." Nara shook her head laughing, "I'll stop before I get homesick."

G'Bat'ea shook his head, sentiment was not an emotion he understood too well. Although he did grasp what she was saying, he had become accustomed to climates with his time planet-side on Nausicaa and Zakdorn. "I cannot decide which I prefer, I've probably been space-borne longer than I've been planetside during my life. I think it is simply a question of what you become accustomed to."

"I'm very accustomed to space-life, but I suppose some of us have this innate desire to be with nature. We want our roots and we want to fly. We live in a day where we can have both."

G'Bat'ea couldn't imagine back to the days before interstellar space flight was commonplace. His race had been there a long time before many Federation races, not that they had a very good reputation, particularly in those earlier times. "At least we can have both, through holo-technology and shore leave." It was strange having holodecks on board naval vessels, but something that he had began to become used to.

"All for the sake of morale." Nara laughed, "Have you had the pleasure of meeting Aristi Ferguson. She'll rot your teeth."

"My teeth? Who is she - some Terran confectioner?"

She smirked. Sometimes it was fun to use human terms with non-humans, "It's a figure of speech. She's a bubbly person. When you meet her, you'll know."

G'Bat'ea had an idea that he perhaps wanted to avoid running into her. "What department is she in?"

Nara tried to remember, "I forgot." She laughed, "She's the self-proclaimed morale officer as well though."

"Oh I see, morale officers and I do not generally have much in common I find." It was true, normally they had little input in tactics and warfare...

Nara smiled, "Yea, but she may find a way to charm you. Just beware." She winked at him.

G'Bat'ea shrugged it off, doubtful. His long hair drooped about his shoulders and came across his face - he was going to have to do something about it soon, it was beginning to get annoying. "I much prefer fighters, in spirit and vocation than tree-hugging animal lovers. Personal opinion of course."

Nara raised an eyebrow, "What if one is both." She was both, though not an extreme on either. She was a fighter, but only when need be. And less so now, but also when her temper flared. She also loved animals, and thought fit that the humoid inhabitants of any planet, native or colonists, had a duty to protect those animals and the flora of the planet...without sacrificing themselves.

"Then I take them as I find them, each individual has their own merits. Besides, I said I *prefer* fighters," G'Bat'ea would not say he disliked those who were pacifistic by nature - he believed they have their place, not that he would usually admit such a thing. This woman was proving to be thought-provoking as well as a better-than-average combatant given a bat'leth.

Nara nodded, "A healthy attitude."

"Speaking of fighters, you appear to have been well taught." G'Bat'ea prompted in the hopes of learning a little more.

Nara slightly shrugged, placing her glass down, "I was in the Sakarian military and my father is a commodore and one of the best warriors Sakaria has known. I mean am...I still am in the Sakarian military, but serving Starfleet at the time being." Nara frowned deeply inside at her slip of tongue. Or her slip of ties. Out of the mouth, comes the abundance of the heart. Was she losing sight of Sakaria here among the stars?

"I know the feeling," G'Bat'ea grunted his understanding. "I was seconded by the Nausicaan navy, and for all intents and purposes I suppose I'm still a Nausicaan officer but fully integrated into Starfleet. I have no doubts my loyalties still lie with Nausicaa then the Federation. It has been a topic of conversation between myself and more than one of my superiors."

"No one seems to question me. Yet, my record shows my roots in Starfleet."

"Perhaps that is why. My record shows me as serving with both the Nausicaans and Klingons before Starfleet - and this being the only service which has reprimanded me. I know how that looks. However, I am here for the duration, or at least that is what I believe." G'Bat'ea had had a hard time adjusting to Starfleet initially, but now he saw the motivations behind all the restrictive regulations and nicities, it went to show that sometimes fighting was not the only way forward.

"Well, the Galaxy is better for having you." It was BS because Nara didn't really know him well enough, but decided to be optimistic about his character than consider all scum until proven innocent. She was a believer of innocent until proven guilty, regardless of stereotypes or even an individual's past. This would have to include Saul, which her fierce anger for him seemed to had melted away.

G'Bat'ea suspected the sentiment was at best premature and at worst untrue. "I hope I will be good for this vessel, but we will find out in time." He downed the remained of his drink in one gulp. "For now, I'll settle for being of use."

Nara nodded. It was every officer's hope at the very core.

"The Mirusa Problem"

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer

with... Doctor Nicholas Jericho, Project Manager

Makinas 'Mackie' Obaleshe, Project Engineer

Commander Kedr'ni'van, CO: Hammer of Progress

****

Mirusa Project Base Camp, Mirusa VI

Mirusa VI stretched out around them, and endless sea of golden sand dunes. To the west, a sandstorm howled and kicked up dust, swirling it around in the sky before sending it crashing back down, resculpting the desert in it's own chaotic image. To the south, a great rocky ridge shielded the camp from some of the desert world's more dangerous weather conditions. To the east, all was calm.

And to the north?

The great temple complex, hundreds of ancient buildings, stood monolithic, dwarfing the tiny encampment of Federation scientists. Doctor Nicholas Jericho wiped the sweat from his brow and resettled his bandana on his bald head, frowning all the while. That sandstorm wouldn't be here for another four hours, but when it did, he'd have to write off the rest of the day to repairs. Mirusa VI could be a harsh mistress.

"We've lost too damned many days already, Mackie," the aging scientist complained, stepping out of the weather observation booth and back onto solid ground. The old man hated only one thing more than losing valuable dig time to sandstorms and the inevitable repairs that had to be made after them. And that one thing was going up in the weather booth, which rose from the ground on hydraulic powered steel poles.

"You're telling me," the young engineer nodded in agreement. "And this looks like the biggest one yet. My crews are going to be up half the night fixing everything."

"So what did the radio shack want?" Jericho asked, moving on. If they only had three hours to work in, then he wanted to move quickly.

"Mela said that she just got off the comm with Starfleet Command. They said that the USS Galaxy would be putting into orbit in an hour," Obaleshe reported, walking with Doctor Jericho out of the base camp and into the dig site.

"Really?" Jericho stopped, halfway up the ramp into the temple complex.

"Yeah. Admiral... ah... Price, I think, told her that they'd be here for a week, reviewing the project," Mackie explained, then waited for the inevitable explosion.

"WHAT?" Jericho shouted, yanking his bandana and flinging it to the ground for added effect. "How *DARE* they? I am a member of the Federation Science Administration. I'm not subject to their *review*! What the hell am I going to do? I need my funding to keep this place going!"

"Doc, I'm sure it's all perfectly legitimate, and I doubt they're looking to take away your funding," Obaleshe said, placing a reassuring hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "In fact, I suspect that the Galaxy's arrival probably has less to do with *us* than it does with *them*."

He cocked his head toward the eastern part of the camp, where a pair of Hydran Imperial Guardsmen, complete with their dark blue body armor and shock lances, stood outside a stark white command tent bearing the seal of the Hydran ship Hammer of Progress.

"Oh right... them," Jericho frowned. He had known the Hydrans would only bring trouble to Mirusa VI.

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1, USS Galaxy

The trip to the Mirusa System had been refreshingly quiet, Cass thought as Lieutenant Savioe reported their arrival in system. Considering that there was a large possibility of Hydran entanglements now that they'd arrived, the peace of the journey and the rest at Starbase 212 had relaxed everyone. Prepared, but unstressed.

That was about to change.

"Captain, I'm picking up a ship in orbit of the sixth planet," Lieutenant Taern reported at tactical. "Hydran Vessel, Class Unknown. Tactical Analysis reports that the threat vessel's profile is consistent with a heavy carrier. They estimate carrying capacity of at least six squadrons. Threat vessel has established a geosynchronous orbit over the Mirusa Project Base Camp."

"Are they making any move toward us?" Cass asked, activating his own terminal and magnifying the image of the Hydran Carrier on the screen. Given what had happened at Havras, the Galaxy had just entered a combat situation.

"Aye sir," Taern reported, "They're moving to face us and deploying fighters."

"Lieutenant Tarin, hail the Hydran vessel," M'Kantu said, steepling his fingers. There had to be a diplomatic solution here. Surely the Hydrans weren't willing to risk sparking a war over an archaeological dig. "I'd like to talk to their commanding officer."

Commander Henderson frowned, "Red Alert, deploy Vanguard Squadron." Like M'Kantu, he would like to see a diplomatic truce until the facts of the situation on Mirusa VI could be determined. However, he wasn't going to leave the Galaxy open to attack. Glancing over at his commanding officer, Cass was relieved to see a look of approval on the older man's face.

"Sir, I have a Commander Kedr'ni'van of the Sovereign Hydran Ship Hammer of Progress online, and he's willing to talk," Iniara reported.

"Onscreen," M'Kantu replied, and the face of their opposite number was finally revealed. The Hydran wasn't exactly humanoid. Nor was he totally alien. Garbed in a crisp, dark purple uniform with various rank insignia, the tall alien stood imperiously in the middle of his bridge. His three eye stalks and triad legs gave him an oddly alien look, but the rest of him was surprisingly humanoid. And he was blue, but that was no oddity, given the Andorians and Bolians.

"I am Kedr'ni'van, commanding officer of the Hammer of Progress," the alien commander stated. "State the reason for your entrance into the space of the Hydran Sovereignty."

"We're here on a mission of peace, Commander. We have no desire to but to locate and observe a research team we've lost touch with on the planet."

Kedr'ni'van frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. "Really, Captain? Or are you here to back up the kidnappers and thieves of culture that your degenerate Federation sent here to kidnap my men and pillage the temples of my people?"

M'Kantu paused before replying. That was a very grave accusation. "Yes, Commander. We are here to look in on our people, nothing more. If you wish, I invite you to come aboard. We can discuss your concerns over a meal. Perhaps, if you explain what you believe has happened here, we can work together to address those issues?"

The Hydran leader seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Very well, Captain M'Kantu. We will not interfere with your duties until you and I have our meal, and I come to a conclusion about the realities of this situation," Commander Kedr'ni'van said. On the tactical plot, Lieutenant Taern watched the Hydran fighters return to the carrier, which he reported to Commander Henderson.

"I look forward to speaking with you," M'Kantu nodded in reply. "With perseverence we will find the truth of this matter."

"We shall see," the Hydran replied, then cut the transmission. On the viewscreen, the Hydran Carrier could be seen moving back into orbit.

M'Kantu turned to Henderson, relieved to have diverted a conflict. "Number One, contact the Doctor Jericho and get his side of the story. I'll be preparing for my meeting with Commander Kedr'ni'van."

"Yes, sir," Cass replied, standing to head for his own office.

****

Captain's Ready Room,
Deck 1, USS Galaxy

"So what have you found, Cassius?" M'Kantu asked a few hours later, accepting the coffee cup from his executive officer. After talking to one of the executive officer of the Hydran ship, who had outlined the Hydran's concerns and demands, he'd called back his own XO.

Cass had just finished up on the comm with Jericho and his staff, arranging for Galaxy crew to visit the site and to help with the investigation that he was now certain that M'Kantu would order.

"Evidently several of Jericho's archaeologists and interns have dissappeared during their exploration of the larger temples," Cass replied, drinking deeply from his cup. "He's concerned by this, but undetered. He did mention that the Hydrans may have lose people too, as the detachment of Imperial Guards has been less visible in the last three days, and have been more irritable."

"Ah. That is consistent to what UnderCommander Kr'chan'in reported to me," M'Kantu replied, "The Hydrans have lost eleven of their Guard detachment. Now, I've offered Commander Kedr'ni'van the possibility of a joint investigation, and we're going to discuss it at dinner tonight. I think he'll accept, so I'm placing you, Lieutenant Heloi, and Lieutenant A'Akledorian in command of the investigation."

"I'll get right on it, sir," Cass nodded. It was what he felt was needed, too. "How large of a team do you want us to take?"

"However many you see fit," M'Kantu replied, "I think that this is a good opportunity for our officers and crew to refresh their memories of exploration. After Havras and Trill, I think they could use it. Have Lieutenant Heloi coordinate with Doctor Jericho and aide him in his work. You and Lieutenant A'Akledorian will work more closely ont he investigation."

Cass nodded. Things were still a little awkward between him and T'Shani, but not so much as to prevent them working together. Of course, with what Mouse had reported the other night, it might be a good idea to keep a close eye on Tish. "Aye, sir."

"Dismissed, Commander. I have to prepare for dinner."

Cass nodded, and excused himself from the room.

“Crashing!”

Primary characters;

Chandrakala Lakshmi Eshe

Kerenza Eshe

And Dhanishta Eshe

*Location; transport in lieu to the USS Galaxy*

(Set the day before the Galaxy leaves Trill to Starbase 212.)

Kerenza and Kala had booked passage to the Galaxy on one of the many transports that were ferrying goods back and forth to the devastated capital of Leran Manev. Their transport ride to the shuttle had been in silence. And it appeared that their short journey to the ship was going to be likewise. It would have been quicker to beam up to the ship but with all the relief efforts it just wasn’t economical. So here they sat, in silence.

Kala stared out of the window into the bleakness of space. Her own image reflected off the window and stared back at her. She tried hard not to look at herself, because that face was just like her sisters. They had the same cheek bones, same jaw line, same smile… and at times Kala thought they even had the same spots. Maybe one day she would actually put that to the test… but then Dhani wouldn’t be there to marvel at her findings. Dhani was never going to be there again, was she!

Kala could feel her body sinking into the chair as that realisation hit her. Dhani was dying. She wasn’t going to survive the night. She would be dead before sun rise. And she was sitting in a shuttle on her way to her sisters’ old ship to tell her sisters’ captain that she was dead. Kala’s chest began to rise and fall quickly. Her sister was never going to wake up. *They* had switched off the ventilator, she was as good as dead. In fact she might have already died in the last hour as she was sitting here. She should be with her… she shouldn’t have left. Why the hell was she on this shuttle? What did she care about telling M’Kantu? What did she care if the federation wanted to fire Dhanis body out of the ship in a torpedo tube? What did she care of funeral arrangements… Dhani wasn’t even cold yet…

****

Within the cloud Dhani called out again. Grasping hold of the only piece of reality she could find.

~MOM?~

She cried out desperately as the wind picked up, beating her with the sand of time…

~MOMMY!!!~

She wailed as reality slipped away and all that was left was the swirling mass of colour.

****

The dust churned around her, mocking her, licking her with its unseen tongue, tasting her, wanting her. She couldn’t hold out any longer. Her voice had gone unheard, unrecognised. It pained her to go, but she had said what she needed to say and that was the deal she had made with the unseen force behind the sand. Even though her cries had fallen of deaf ears, the sands of time cared not.

Dhanishta released her hold on reality and reluctantly let the darkness take her.

Kala was hyperventilating now as she stared at her own image, nostrils flaring tears welling, tingles rushing up and down her spine… she felt sick, a huge knot in her stomach twisted, her hands began to shake. Clutching the arms of the chair Kala watched as her knuckles turned white. Her eyes franticly searched the back of the chair in front of her. She had to get up, she had to do something… but what could she do? She had to run, she had to hide, she had to get off this ship. She had to do…. something, ANYTHING…. This was real, this was far beyond fantasy Dhani was dead…. DHANI WAS DEAD!!!!

Kala felt a movement beside her but she daredn’t move an inch. She felt the panic swirl inside her. The air seemed to get thinner and her vision tunnelled till all that was in front of her was the plain, boring, pattern-less chair back.

Kerenza slid into the seat beside Kala. She may not have been a doctor but she was a scientist, observation one of her strong points. Right now she slipped into mother slash scientist mode, a fearsome opponent! Kala’s breathing had heightened, she could hear it from where she had been sitting on the opposite isle. Taking Kalas wrist she felt her pulse. Her skin was damp and clammy. Panic attack! Kerenza took a deep breath and wrapped her arm around Kala, her elbow resting on the head rest she began to stroke Kalas forehead.

“Shush, shush,” she cooed trying to soothe Kala, “Everything is going to be alright. Just breathe. Okay? Take deep breaths for me, okay Kala?”

Kala nodded but the bile rose in her stomach. She felt dizzy and out of control. She had to get out…

“Kala.” Kerenzas soft voice flowed through the air, “Listen to me. You’re going to do exactly as I say okay, no questions.”

All Kala could do was nod. She could feel her fingers twitching and her legs spasm as her heart began to race.

“Breathe in and hold your breath, for one, two, three, four, five.” Kerenza tapped Kalas hand as she counted, her voice steady and calm.

“That’s good Kala,” Kerenza said trying not to sound patronising, “now breathe out…”

Kerenza repeated this another ten times, and finally Kala seemed to relax a little. Her pulse, which Kerenza was still keeping tabs on, began to slow down. Kerenza too relaxed slightly. With a pulse like that she could only imagine what Kalas blood pressure was like. Her fingers continued to run through Kalas hair and across her forehead.

Kala felt her self-control returning. The feelings of terror began to subside but only marginally. Her palms felt sweaty as she twitched her fingers. She still felt petrified, caught in some unseen headlights, paralysed and scared. She turned her head slightly to the right, but her eyes remained focused on the chair in front of her,

“Mom,” she mumbled her voice croaking, “she’s not coming back. She’s not going to wake up, is she?” Kala trembled as she spoke.

Kerenza took a sharp inhale. She and Tanson had been so inconsiderate. They had the time to come to terms with this decision. They had decided a week ago to turn off the ventilator; since they had heard the news that Dhanis brain activity had stopped. They didn’t ask Kala, didn’t even consider her feelings when they had made that choice. Kala had been by Dhanis side since it happened, and they and made the decision from afar. Kala hadn’t even had the time to come to terms with it. In fact she hadn’t come to terms with it at all. Kerenza looked at Kalas face, her eyes staring front, her stiff body. What had she done? A pang of guilt overwhelmed her as she stared at her daughter.

Swallowing a lump Kerenza pulled Kala’s taught body towards her. She stroked Kalas face as she rested against her chest.

“No Kala,” Kerenza answered her, “Dhani is not coming back.”

A howl erupted from Kala as the words sunk in. Her entire body vibrated and jerked. She never thought she could cry this hard, didn’t think it was possible to feel this much pain all at once.

Several people turned and stared at the two, thinking that she had just been stabbed or something.

Kerenza didn’t usually like making a scene but she had deprived Kala of so much, she didn’t care now how much noise she made. She just held her tightly and stroked her hair. Occasionally gesturing to the passer bys, and the ones who came to check on them, to keep on walking.

15 minutes later the shuttle docked with the Galaxy. Uncurling from her mother Kala stood up. She felt numb. Her legs were stiff and it took her several minutes to stand up fully.

Together the two of them walked out of the shuttle and on to the galaxy…

"Calling the Furies"

Cdr. Cassius Henderson XO, USS Galaxy

1Lt. T'Shani a'Akledorian CO, SFMC Furies

== Deck 4: Marine Country ==

Cass walked down to Marine Country, immediately after talking to Captain M'Kantu. He wasn't excited to see Tish again so soon, or be working so closely with her, but at the same time... she was a friend, and it was better than working with somebody who he didn't know. From their work together at Rel'kessan and elsewhere, he knew what she was capable of and exactly what he could count on her for.

Arriving in Marine Country, he looked around for direction to where he might find Tish. It was the first time since the refit since he'd been down this way, and it had changed.

"Can I help you find something, Commander,rr," an amused, feminine, purring voice asked from behind Cass.

"Your commanding officer, yes," Cass replied, turning to face the Caitian woman, one of the fighter techs on loan from the SFFC to service Tish's Hoppers. "I need to speak to her about an away mission."

Smiling a wide grin that filled most of her face, the black-furred felinoid--M's,rr'ov, or just "M'Srov" to non-Caits--turned on her paw, and motioned her hand in a "follow me" gesture, making sure to pick her tail up, so that the Commander didn't accidentally step on it. "This way, Sirr,r," she purred softly.

Cass followed, taking in the surroundings. SFMC Country was a busy place, as it turned out.

------------------- T'Shani's Office... -------------------

Tish's day had started off alright, for a change. After waking up (in her *own* quarters, this time), she had indulged herself in a real hot-water shower, followed by a wonderful breakfast of Sjiikathiib. Now, she only had to figure out what she was going to do with the Furies.

Baile had been running training sessions of both his and parts of Ward's teams. She knew that she needed to put something together, though. She had been neglecting her duty to do a formal battlefield readiness report. Sighing, she reached for the comm button, ready to ask her aide, Valentine, to call for her XO, so that they could go over the issue.

Instead, she was surprised when the device beeped, at *her*. ["Lieutenant, the XO's here to see you, Ma'am,"] Valentine's voice reported succinctly.

"Send her in then, Staff Sergeant."

["Uh, sorry, Ma'am. I meant that it's the *Galaxy's* XO; Commander Henderson, Ma'am,"] Valentine's sheepish reply came back.

Tish glared at the speakerphone. Holding her tongue, however, "Send *him* in, then."

["Yes, Ma'am"]

Tish cut the connection. What in the world could Cassius be doing down here. She had been expressly avoiding running into him, ever since she had gotten herself tangled up with Rex. Or was it, she had gotten *Rex* entangled with her? ~Whatever,~ she dismissed in her head as the doors swished open.

"Afternoon, Tish," Cass said, making sure the door closed behind him. He sat down, PADD still in hand, unaware of her thoughts. "How's your day been so far?"

Tish eyed him, suspiciously, her left antenna wriggling a little. She had never known Cass to just "stop by", at all. And the padd lent her to believe that something was afoot.

She allowed a small smile, however, as she moved from behind her desk to sit in a seat opposite the one Cass had chosen. He *was* technically her acting-CO/XO... *whatever* on the Galaxy, so she didn't need to play from behind her desk. "I would say, good, Cass. But I know that you're going to ruin that," she said dryly, hoping that this didn't have anything to do with the meeting she had had with Gessekensett a week ago.

"You've got to be kidding," Cass replied, a little surprised by the nature of her response. "I know you don't like being stuck behind this desk. We're going dirtside, or in this case duneside. Evidently some of the scientists have disappeared, as have some of the Hydran guards. We're supposed to lead a joint team with the Hydrans to search for them."

Tish's antennas arched far back over her head, her blood boiling, quickly she stood, leaning over Cassius. "The *HYDRANS*, Cass?! Are *you* kidding?" she growled through her teeth while staring him in the eye.

"I wish," Cass said dryly. Ever since the Rel'kessan encounter, both of them had been more than a little leery around the Hydrans. "But it seems that we've encountered a somewhat reasonable Hydran commander. When Captain M'Kantu offered him the chance to solve this without blood, he agreed. Right now, the Federation cannot afford a fight, so soon after Donahue's BS on FNN the other night."

Tish cooled down a little bit, but not much, still standing over him, she slowly repeated, "*Somewhat*....*Reasonable*....*Hydran*?! You forget about Gral N'Fth'Nor, so easily, Cass?" she started to get angry, again.

Cass started to rebut her arguments, but was stopped short by T'Shani. "And I saw what that *kh'riibth* Donahue said last night." Huffing, she sat back down, crossing her legs. "Even *more* reason not to trust them, Cassius. If you want my professional *Marine* input."

"Tish, I'd rather have your input as a person than as a Marine specifically," he replied, a little annoyed by her reaction. There was going to be enough hostility from the Hydrans. He didn't need it from her. "Of course I remember the *esteemed* Gral N'Fth'Nor. This one's a little lower on the command chain, a Commander Kedr'Ni'Van. And honestly, Tish. I'm an SFI handler. I'll have my eye on the Hydrans throughout this. However, as little trust as I put in them, this is a unique opportunity to learn more about them."

Tish scowled, her elegant features darkening. She knew he was right though....

"Fine," she said. "What do want from the Furies?"

"They're up to date on their Search and Rescue protocols, right?" he asked, handing her the PADD. On it were her orders to serve as his second in command on the surface, as well as all the information that they'd gathered on the planet, the project, and the disappearances.

Tish accepted the padd then started reading it, her antennas bobbing as she sped through the mission briefing. "Yes, Lieutenant Baile and my Master Gun's been training them on that, lately." Scanning further, she paused to look up at Cassius with a mildly surprised face.

"Your taking the mission? Why not let my men do their job on their own, Cass?" she asked plaintively. She wasn't complaining, just curious as to why he was taking command. She felt that she could handle the situation, herself. It was only a few lost scientists and ugly three-eyes. It shouldn't be *that* hard.

"Three reasons," he replied almost immediately. "One, because of your initial reaction. Somebody has to be diplomatic with them. Better that it's somebody who knows what they're capable of. Two, because your reaction proves that you're not that person. Three, because you and I haven't had a real conversation in a while."

Tish stood again, anger boiling to her face, once again. "Diploma-!" she stopped, weighing the last reason in her mind. Switching gears, she sat down, *again*. "What, do you think you're gonna 'hold my hand', Cass? Looking over every decision I make? Hampering my men's effectiveness by being," she made a face, "*diplomatic*? And what, in Thori's name, do we have to 'converse' about?" She said, trying her best not to let her feelings for him override her duty as the Furies' CO.

Cassius sighed, "Yes, *diplomatic*. Your men are going to be searching for the Hydran's missing officers as much as they're searching for our missing scientists. And that's why we're both on this. I'll handle the diplomacy, you keep your men doing their jobs, Tish. As to what we have to converse about: I don't understand you, Tish. You get pissed off when I don't want to talk. You get pissed off when I do want to talk. You need to make up your mind."

Tish let go of a derisive, not-very-ladylike, snort. "*This*, coming from the man who can't decide whether he'd rather chase a skinny, whiny Pinkskin ass, or a spotted one," she said, pointedly referring to Rima Pennington (the Pinkskin) and Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx (the Trill).

~She really was one to be talking,~ Cass thought to himself, sorely tempted to say something about her lack of ability to tell him her own feelings. What was it with women and that, anyway?

"Pardon? I knew I was interested in Rima. She refused, so I'm going to go find Ekoma tonight and see if she's still interested in the holodeck program she wanted to show me last week."

~Ouch,~ Tish thought. That had hurt. Now he was just rubbing her face in the fact that he was moving on, with someone *else*. She looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes, not sure she could tell him how she felt. Instead, she turned to stare past him, out her portal to the stars.

"Tish..." he said, offering a resigned sigh.

"Forget it, Cass," she said, standing to walk behind her desk, her back toward Henderson. If all he was only going to gloat over his newest *victory* with Janx, she didn't want any part of it. "I'll brief my XO and platoon Lieutenants. We'll be ready to deploy when you are," the tone in her voice ending any further discussion. She didn't even turn back to him, hoping he'd take the hint to just leave.

"If that's how you prefer it," he said, standing to leave. He made it to the door before thinking better of it. "You need to pull the stick out of your ass and say what you mean. Some other time, Tish."

And he was gone.

"Chatter"

Lieutenant JG Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering Officer

Flight Sergeant j'Noov Shavraa, Flight Deck Officer (NPC - M. Miller)

ANDURIL Flight Technicians:
Staff Technician Marie Ainsley (NPC)
Technician Koru Nas (NPC)
Technician Noah Gabriel (NPC)

HERUGRIM Flight Technicians:
Staff Technicians Aaron Wallace (NPC)
Technician M's,rr'ov (NPC)
Technician Falkor Vox (NPC)

< A few hours after (and including exerpts from) "Breaking News" >

== Deck 5: Furies' Shuttlecraft Hangar Lowbay ==

"Where the hell is Gabriel?!" the heavily Andorian-accented voice shouted through the lowbay hangars where the Furies' Pelicans were docked.

"Don't know, sir."

"Not sure."

"I think he's sick."

Sergeant Shavraa threw his hands in the air, antennas flailing in annoyance. "Listen up, boys and girls, gather 'round," he shouted.

He waited a few moments as the dropship mechanic's gathered around him. Ainsley, as usual, almost tripped over her feet as she scurried toward the group. The little human was so skittish... but she was fast and accurate in her work.

Next came Koru Nas, the tall, skinny Bajoran girl. Silent as ever, she averted her eyes as she came to stand beside Ainsley, her crewmate.

Wallace and M's,rr'ov strolled around the Herugrim, as if they had nothing better to do. Which was probably not far from the truth: they were both practical jokers... though they worked well together on the crew.

"What's this about, Sir?" came a dark growl from behind Shavraa, causing him to jump slightly, before quickly whirring around. He came face-to-face with the massive chest of...

The Andorian looked up, "Vox, how many times have I told you to *never* come up from behind me? Get in line, Mister," j'Noov waved to the rest of the crews. He shook himself, mentally... the Sirian technician had a bad habit of sneaking up on people, although he always claimed that it was simply a part of his wolfan breeding to 'stalk'.

"Yeah, what is this about, Sarrrgeant?" came the cool voice of M's,rr'ov, his tail swishing low on the floor.

Suddenly, there was a crashing noise behind the group, coming from near the Narsil, which was sitting off in its own darkened corner.

Nara scowled at herself for not zipping the bag. She was sure it was part of some unofficial punishment to come bring the equipment to the Furies. She figured since she was promoted the "freshman" hazing would stop and she would get some real respect. Unfortunately, due to the incident on Trill--that O'Shea seems to believe was simply an act of AWOL--she had to earn it beyond her rank.

"Who's there?!" Shavraa shouted out, marching toward the sound.

Nara tried not to act agitated, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Naranda Roswell from Engineering. Just bringing some equipment you requested." She couldn't wait 'til her next promotion. The introduction now was cumbersome, but it was a step needed to go from Ensign to Lieutenant.

"Is that so, Miss Roswell?" the Andorian peered down at her as she attempted to pick up whatever she had dropped. Sighing, he bent down to help her, then looked over his shoulder, back to the group. "Did someone order these power converters from Engineering?"

"I- uh, I did, Sir," came the small voice of Ainsley. "We didn't have any more in stores... and, well, they did."

"Well, get your Pinkskinny ass over here, and help the woman with your parts, Ainsley!"

"Y- Yes sir," she said while skittering toward Sarge and the Engineer.

Nara raised an eyebrow at the speech. Nara decided to further O'shea's objective of working on the support vessels more. Actually, she wasn't even on her shift. She had just agreed (as if she REALLY had a choice) to take the equipment on her way out of Main Engineering. "Need any help getting your birds ready?"

"Actually, yeah, we do, Lieutenant," Koru said before Shavraa could say anything about it. Without Gabriel here, work on the Anduril was going slow. They could use whatever help they could get.

Nara nodded, "Alright, just tell me what you need me to do."

Vox shot Nas a threatening glare, making it clear that he didn't appreciate her inviting the 'intruder' into thier space. But Nas didn't give a flying shit if the wolfman had a problem with it, it wasn't his crew, anyway.

She'd have to talk to Wallace about keeping an eye on Vox.

Nara glanced over at the wolf-looking man. She'd met the dolphins and she knew there were Caitians around. She mused to herself how this place seemed like a zoo, then immediately admonished herself. One couldn't help but notice how different they looked and how, yet, they reminded you of some creature many people kept as pets or performance animals.

Regardless, the look on his face made him as intimidating as a Klingon.

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be super-great, good, even," the nervous-looking Ainsley replied to Nas's suggestion, while she tried her best to balance two converters in one hand, while picking up Nara's bag in the other.

"We could, we could use you on the PSE manifold, on the port side. Yeah, yeah, that one over there, the one with 'Anduril' on the side, yeah," she rambled on. She had a habit of doing that, like an Earth chipmunk that was on some sort of high-strung caffeine binge.

Nara tried not to laugh, "Thanks."

"Don't worrry about herrr," M's,rr'ov purred behind Nara as a wide, toothy smile formed across her Caitain face. "She's insaaane," she drew the word out, as well as a chuckle from Wallace.

Nara turned slightly startled and turned back to Ainsley. She was surprised at her surprise. She had seen some shocking things in battle. She had seen such creatures when she lived on the space station with her parents and at the Academy. Yet, these humanoids were not common Starfleet. Yet, she should be used to the roughness of Marines and figher pilots. She just wasn't prepared for this. For the past months, she had lived calmly, the simple star fleet life. Even during the wars, her part in it all was relatively calm.

"Nonono!" Ainsley smiled devilishley, while punctuating the air with her finger, causing her to almost loose the bag of converters, "Not 'insane', really, just lotsnlotsnlots of coffee." And with that, the stick-figure woman disappeared behind the Anduril, again.

Nara smiled at the Caitian and shrugged.

"Yeah, she's okay, Lieutenant," Koru Nas couldn't help but chuckle to herself at Ainsley's antics. Nas supposed that to an outsider, the woman *did* seem quite insane. "C'mon, I'll show around our baby," she motioned for the woman to follow her.

Nara looked toward the Andruil as she nodded to Nas, "Alright."

After awhile, Nara grew curious, "You have quite a crew here."

Nas laughed, "Yeah, they're all nuts. Most of them are harmless, though. Ainsley's always on a caffeine high, Wallace thinks he's God's Gift to flight techs, and M'Srov... well, she's pretty easy to get along with, if a bit lazy."

Nas frowned, while fitting a hyperspanner to a piece on Flyer's manifold intake. "Vox, is-" she paused, trying not to let any fear creep into her voice. Leaning closer to Nara's ear, she whispered, "He freaks me out, to tell you the truth."

"Maybe he takes getting used to." Nara hoped.

Nas was about to reply, but was cut off by the sound of someone shouting: "Hey you guys! You won't believe this! Look what FNN's got on!"

Nas sighed, recognizing Noah Gabriel's (the one that had been missing, earlier) voice. Ever the sensationalist and conspiracy-theorist, Nas never really enjoyed working or talking with him. He was just... *draining*.

"Where've you been, Gabriel?" Sergeant j'Noov asked sharply. "I've got two dropships here that don't fix themselves...yet. You were supposed to show up fifteen minutes ago," he said sternly.

Noah gave him a sorry look, while shrugging his shoulders in apology. "Sorry, Sarge. FNN's popped the top on Havras, Sir."

Nara sighed. It was making it's way around. She had seen it a few hours before and then she shut it off to keep it from Saia.

*That* announcement caused all the technician's to pop their heads above/out of their respective work areas on the ships. All of them had been with the Furies during the Battle of Havras, with the exception of Vox, who hadn't been assigned to the Galaxy at the time. One by one, they all quickly gathered around Gabriel, who was displaying the padd in the midst of the group. Even Sarge was peering over the Tech's shoulders.

Nara lagged, but followed behind.

Nas couldn't believe what she was hearing, as the FNN feed replayed on the padd:

["... What you are seeing is images of the Starships Galaxy and Miranda, slightly over ten months ago. FNN has been able to determine that the two starships, under the commands of Captains Elaithin Jii of Bajor and Daren M'Kantu of Earth, were dispatched to the Breen homeworld for diplomatic talks."]

On the screen, other Federation starships began to move into view as several ships assumed defensive positions around Miranda and Galaxy. The camera zoomed in as the Miranda's tertiary hull was destroyed, and panned to the left as a pair of starships - Prometheus and Nebula Class, respectively - extracted their vengeance on the Hydran ship responsible. The reporter continued her report.

Nara watched it again. Not surprised, but still just as disgusted.

Ainsley became very quiet, all of the sudden. Nas felt a little sorry for her: she had gone through the most during the battle, having lost a close friend of hers. Many of the crew believe *that* was one of the reasons she threw herself into her work so liberally.

Donahue continued. ["Captain Elaithin's diplomatic party was taken prisoner by the Breen, even as the two ships were ambushed in orbit by vessels belonging to the T'Kith'Kin Hive and Hydran Sovereignty. The Breen then used this opportunity to hold the diplomatic party hostage, claiming to be threatened by the other two powers."]

After showing some rather spectacular footage of a Galaxy-Class starship colliding with a T'Kith'Kin Command Carrier, the camera reverted back to Donahue.

"How in the name of the Fates did they get this,ss," M'Srov hissed as her ears flattned against her head. She knew that someone had squealed about it to FNN, and that didn't make her happy.

["This turns out to have been a hoax perpetrated by the former Breen General, Thot Gor, who assumed power during this incident. Now a dictator, *Aval* Gor is actually in alliance with the powers of the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans."]

["The footage you saw previously was taken in the Havras at the time of this incident. It is of the Twelfth Fleet forcibly extricating the starships Miranda and Galaxy from where they were massively outnumbered."]

["The Federation Council chose to hide this incident from he public at large, even though no less than twenty-nine Federation starships were destroyed, claiming a death toll of more than sixteen thousand. To put some more perspective on this-"]

"Shut it off, Gabriel," Vox snarled behind the group.

Gabriel did as Vox requested, more because the Sirian looked pissed enough to tear something (or someone) apart.

"That lyin' *bitch*," Wallace swore, equally mad as Vox. "How in the hell did she-"

Sergeant j'Noov interrupted, "Stow it, Wallace... *all* of you. We were there, we know what *really* happened. Besides, we're on our way to the Mirusa system now, anyway. That's what I had come to tell you all, originally."

Nas spoke up. "Sir, isn't Mirusa near Hydran space?"

"R,rright on the borrder,rr, Nas," M'Srov spoke up first.

Nara shook her head.

"Great! This is just absolutilin' freaklid great!" Ainsley started shouting.

"Calm down, ALL of you!" j'Noov's voice boomed over the commotion. "I don't want to hear any more of this chatter. Get back to your birds: who knows if we'll need them." Then, turning to Nara: "Ma'am, you can either stay here and help, or I might suggest returning to Engineering."

Nara looked around. She was looking forward to tinkering on these things, but the moment was over. They knew the news and they had other things to worry about. She nodded, "I have other things to attend to."

j'Noov nodded. "Very well then," he said, then walked off as the rest of the crews went back to thier work, this time with renewed resolve.

Nara watched them all. It was an amazing site. Maybe someday later she could play...erm tinker on their ships with them. Now there was something else a-brewin. She just prayed it wouldn't end up like her first month on this ship. That was one heck of a way to start an assignment. She didn't want to end the assignment, or her life, in the same manner. No. She had too much to live for now. Someone needed her. And that's exactly who she went to get.

"Hot Rods" Pt. I

Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer/SEC (Trey)
Lt. Michael Jamson, Operations (Bob)
Lt. JG Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering (Lori)
Lt. Jiiles, Engineering Officer. (Dru)
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Engineering Officer. (Will)
Ensign Richard "Ringo" Langly, Engineer (martin)
And Quentite Ambassador Turan Trelar (marco)

::: Holodeck IV, USS Galaxy :::

Brianna had left earlier then normal. She wanted to get there before everyone else arrived for this major task at hand. Today, men and women would get a idea of what it's like working for Starfleet Corp of Engineers. Because of her service, they at the SCE had given her the task of finishing out one of their projects, namely the new computer system to upgrade the current LCARS interface. A project of this size would take up some ship resources so Anna had called in help from Ops, Lt. Jamson was going to be joining in as well as some science officers and a large number of engineers.

If it worked out, Anna could pretty much guarantee a commendation at the least for getting it to work. So far, that was the problem, getting it to work without burning out the new format isolinear chips. Anna had good feeling that the people of the galaxy would be able to get it done, all it would take is a little imagination and know how, throw in some sweat and hard work and it'd get done.

Leaning back, she took a moment to sip her raktijeno as she waited for everyone to arrive so she can brief them on what was the objectives for 'Project I'Carion'.

Nara entered the holodeck and realized that, again, she was the first to arrive. Someone was enjoying watching her sweat. She tried to act casual,
yet professional. "Hello Lt. Commander."

"Lieutenant." Anna replied, looking up from her padds. "I trust you are refreshed and ready to set your mind to what I've got down for us all to do today?" Anna asked, as she sipped her drink again, trying to finish it before everyone arrived.

Nara nodded, "Yes, Mam." Actually, she was really quite excited. She had been helping Dhani with the EEH and when Dhani went into a coma, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do with it. She had decided to wait until Dhani recovered. Now was another chance to be part of something ground-breaking.

"Good.." Anna said. "Once they others arrive, we'll get started."

Rushing quickly to Holodeck 4, Jamson tried to avoid bumping into others crew members. It was like moving pieces on a chess board, or playing a friendly game of Klingon "hide and prey" where hunting parties had compete in tracking and killing a victim, usually a poor animal or dishonored living being, and sometimes each other. He was late, which was usually for the strict officer.

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he moved through the hallways like an old Terran football player, as fast as he could on his way to his objective. He had little time to think of this new project. In the last several days, he was a busy bee, nothing but hard work. Tarin appointed him to be Operation's representative in this engineering notion. Iniara was short of staff, so everyone worked pretty hard.

He had no idea what it was all about, as engineering was never a strong side, and even though at first he thought it was a total waste of time on his part, he welcomed the change. He remembered something about a new interface system, but was not quite 'rooted' to what would be his role. Of course it would have to be operations related, but he hoped it would require more than just allocating resources and administrative management between all the departments.

Arriving to the familiar holodeck doors, he took a moment to fix his breath, tidy up his uniform and walked right in. Inside, he saw both Brianna, which he had the pleasure of meeting earlier on ship conferences and another Lieutenant that he wasn't familiar with. Both Jamson and Brianna served on Jupiter station, but not at the same time. Furthermore, Jamson heard Suder's opinion on Brianna, from time to time, and their entire so called 'working relations' and was not quite eager to work with her. Although he did form some sort of a first impression on her, as Suder was a close friend from recent years, he hoped it wouldn't interfere either on the personal nor professional levels.

"'Commander" Jamson nodded to the Chief Engineer and extended his hand.

"Lieutenant" Brianna said, standing. "Glad to have you with us. Soon as a few more people arrive, we'll began." She said, then looked back down at the table she sat at.

He then moved to greet the other lieutenant "Lt.Jamson, Operations. I don't believe we've met before?"

Nara turned, thankful someone else was FINALLY here, "Lt junior grade Naranda Roswell. Pleased to meet you Lt. Jamson"

The Holodeck doors opened again to let another person in. He had long blond hair, which was an unusual sight, and was looking kind of frantically around like he was missing something. Meanwhile he was mumbling to himself all the time.

Lieutenant Jiiles sloped through the doors. The entrance of the 6 foot Bolian went relatively unnoticed. He walked up behind Richard and smirked at his mumbling.

When Richard noticed the others, he hurried towards them. He looked at each of them, his eyes darting from one to other. "Where's my console, where is it...my console... Please hook me up...I beg you! I need to be plugged in man."

Jiiles didn't bother with introductions he just took himself to a corner and watched the exchanges of bizarre looks between the others. He was still trying to get used to the new chiefs ways. He and Suder had been close, and his world had changed when his best friend, Ethan, had left, and with him Dhani; his girlfriend. Jiiles hadn't had his head in the game since he had heard that she had died. In the last few months since she had left, comatose, and he had kept to himself.

Jamson stared at the scattered man and at the same time finished exchanging greetings with Naranda "The pleasure is all mine...". The long haired blond didn't seem to fit into the whole group of specialists. He must has some sort of skill and expertise, otherwise he wouldn't be here.

Turan watched the holodeck door close behind a man wearing an engineering uniform. There was a engineering meeting inside that room. He once was an engineer, too. To be honest most of the time he only carried Lt. Eshe's toolkit. Nevertheless he somehow was part of the department.

The giant boy touched the control panel to open the door. Bowing his head, he entered. There were several officer of different departments - obviously one of the larger meetings. Turan found himself a place a few steps away from the bunch of people, folded his hands behind his back and waited for the show to begin.

"In due time, Ensign." Anna said then called for the arch. "What I want you all to know is held in strict confidence. What we are working on, could possible replace the LCARS as we know it. Future ship designs could integrate this new interface. We don't have a working name for it, but the Starfleet Corp of Engineers thinks that we have the personnel to make it work. That's what we are going to try our damnedest to do." Anna said, then called up the program.

The room changed from the yellow and black grid, to a lab, not just any kind of lab one that looked very much like the bridge of a futuristic starship. "Take a moment and look around you.." Anna said, walking over toward one of the many consoles. "Touch the consoles, see how different they are. Problem is, the touch screens aren't staying true to form, meaning, during battle simulations, the touch screens fail... we need to find out why."

"How much power does it take to run this. these . new 'touch screens'?" Jiiles asked frowning, it would be so much easier if this project had a name! "It could be that during a battle simulation the power distribution network diverts power from this system. possible glitches in the network.."

He continued theorizing as he looked around the room, "Have they been connected in the same way as the LCARS system? That could be the problem right there..?" He began to mumble as he felt slightly center stage. He hadn't even welcomed the new chief; he would be surprised if she even knewhis name. Turning back to the consoles his brain ticked over the data before him.

If the new system took more power, or even les power than the previous, that would cause the power distribution network to possibly overlook it during a combat situation. "If the set up process has not been inputted properly then the computer might not even recognize it as an essential system." he trailed off as he felt the eyes of the room staring at his back. He turned round nervously and flashed half a smile.

Anna listened to the man talking, getting out his ideas and she nodded a few times. "Not the power that's causing that, that much we do know." Anna said, leaning back against one of the consoles.

"How it's different from the LCARS right now is we currently use isoliener chips. This style console doesn't use them, well it uses the new chip." Anna said, walking over to the table she sat at before. Picking the case up she opened it and pulled out a clear looking rod.

"It uses this, isolenier rods. Last about three times as long as a isolenier chip and can take a lot more energy output then the current isolenier chip." Anna said, passing it around to let them all see it. "How the touch screens 'connect' to the ship systems is through those and," she said pulling a gelpak out of the box. "These.. type VII gelpak with cross fibered filament incasing." She said passing it around.

Jiiles took the rod and examined it, rolling it in his fingers for a moment he pondered. Turning he passed it down the line and looked back at O'Shea.

Jamson was fascinated by the Rods "This reminds me of a Cardassian level 4 Isolinear storage systems" he said not too loud. These cardassian rods were 7.32 centimereters by 31.96 centimeters but were much larger than the new ones Brianna showed them.

"Branwen and the Brat"

Samantha Widdlestein Childhood Prodigy and Self-Proclaimed Genius

1Lt. T'Shani a'Akledorian A 'Not-So-Happy Today' Andorian Femme-Fatale

2Lt. Branwen London The Sweet Girl who's Really Gotten Herself into a Mess

== Deck 4: Lieutenant T'Shani's Office ==

Branwen came back carrying a cup of tea.  This morning she had set Samantha another task. Setting up a painter's easel in her office and supplying some paint she had asked Sam to make the painting displaying how she felt.

She thought it would be less difficult for the young girl and talking. And fun as well. At the academy Branwen had taken some classes in creative therapy. She didn't think she would use it much with the Marines.  So this was a golden opportunity for her to try it out.

Samantha had looked at her canvas with despair for more than twenty minutes.

Painting was not her thing. *HER* art was that of theater, if any thing. Life imating art imitating life, etc. That and making buttons. She bet that Saia girl would have enjoyed art therapy.

And how she really felt? Samantha made a large 'pfft' noise. As if a piece of rectangular cloth could convey the deep meaning and psychological intent of Samantha Widdlestein.

So, after twenty mintues, she decided to go talk to Branwen's superior.

------------ Tish's Office -------------

"Rhooz," Tish swore, then threw the padd across the room, bouncing it off a chair in the corner. She couldn't concentrate, even with all the paperwork that was sitting before her. The events from last night with Rex were still fresh in her mind.

~Why in the world did I do *that*?~ she asked herself over and over again. She had never trusted anyone before, so why start now? But, there was something about Rex. Maybe it was the fact that he was over five-hundred years old... maybe.

*CHITTER-CHIRP*

Tish's head snapped up, antennas waving as the chime sounded. It was still early, an hour before Alpha shift began. Who could it have been?

"Enter."

Samantha swept into the room. "She's making me paint of all things! What kind of department are you running?"

Tish's antennas - and eyebrows - arched in surprised and confusion. "Excuse me?" She asked, standing up behind her desk. She was just about to hit the comm button on her desk, to summon someone to come and remove Ms. Widdlestein from her office.

Samantha put her hands on her hips. "I'm supposed to learn from this experience but I doubt that Captain M'Kantu meant learning about acrylics. I demand to be reassigned."

Tish pressed the button, anyway. Speaking into the desk mic, she kept a wary eye on the teenage girl standing hands-on-hips in her office. "Valentine, tell London to get her sweet little Pinkskin ass to my office on the double, *now*."

She didn't even wait for Matt's reply, before cutting the transmission. Taking a deep breath, she faced the girl in front of her. The very Samantha Widdlestein, herself.

"You can tell Valentine to send her right back. I don't want..."

"Stand at attention, Miss Widdelestein!" Tish barked, knowing she would catch the girl off-guard.

Samantha blinked and automatically stood up straighter before she gave the Andorian a withering look.

"So, you don't like painting? Tough. Marine's don't get to choose which assignments they 'like' and 'don't like'."

"But I don't see how..."

Tish cut her protest off, before she got started on a tirade. "Stow it. You're smarter than you let others believe, which tells me that you're also cunning, and manipulative. You could be one helluva Intelligence officer, someday."

Samantha's retort abrubtly died as she considered this.

"But, you're not there yet. So shut up, stop whining, and learn."

Bran was surprised at the summons from her boss. She had just about been ready to go and check on Sam. That would have to wait.

"You wanted me, ma.... Samantha! What the hell are you doing here!"

Samantha rolled her eyes. "I decided to do a portrait of her. But I've never really been able to draw from memory so..."

Branwen shot her a withering glance that told the young lady a talk would follow once they were back in Londons office.

"Art therapy is a bunch of nonsense." Sam complained. "*Everyone* knows its all about the Freud."

"Oh yeah! Then tomorrow morning I want a four page essay, single spaced, small letters, on the difference between modern art therapy and Freuds ideas. Now get moving back to my office." Branwen ordered her.

"I can do that left handed in my sleep!" Samantha shot back. "It's still a smegging waste of time. *She* thinks I could be an Intelligence officer some day."

"*She* is not your mentor, and *you* young lady answer to me. Now apologize to the lieutenant for wasting her time and let's go!"

"I'm sorry for wasting your time." Samantha replied with vast insincerity.

As Branwen quickly turned to escape T'Shani's office, the Andorian woman spoke up. "Lieutenant, remember what I said about keeping her out of my hair?"

"Yes ma'am.  It won't happen again, ma'am."  Branwen was inwardly cursing the little girl.

"Don't test my follow-through ability. Dismissed."

"No ma'am."  with that Lieutenant London was glad to escape.  And Miss Samantha was in for a world of trouble.

"It Could Happen"

Naranda Roswell
Klaus Feinberg

Nara walked into Sickbay. She had paced a bit down the hall to get a straight face. She had been visiting the pool where the dolphins dwelled, and upon that, had a crazy idea. One she would never really do, but it sparked an idea of a joke for Klaus.

Problem was, she was never very good at keeping a straight face. Once something tickled her, it was hard not to laugh. Now, at the moment, she was doing pretty good. She had a good idea what she wanted to say. In fact, she had convinced herself she did, in fact, want this done. Just so she could sound more sincere about it.

"Nara? What brings you my way today." Klaus stepped out of his office.

"Actually, I'm here to ask a medical favor." She had smiled in greeting, but returned to her serious face ignoring the tightening in her throat. For a split moment, she thought it was interesting that the throat tightens when trying to repress laughing as well as to repress crying. She would contemplate over that later.

"Well...Ok." Klaus thought the question was strange. Didn't make much sense. "What is it might I ask."

She stated matter of factly, "I've been wandering if you could set me up with a pair of gills." Saying the words out loud was almost too much. She looked down and turned sideways to hide any hint that she was trying hard not to laugh. She put her hand on her side just about her ribcage, "I assume around here on either side would be a good place." And now that she was into it, she was able to get into the act well enough to turn back around and look at him. "What do you think?"

Klaus couldn't help but chuckle. "Well..I think you're out of your mind Nara, but I suppose it could work." He went back into his office and picked up a PaDD. "Hows tommorrow at 14:30 sound?"

Nara watched him go into his office, "Well..." She stammered a moment, "That's sort of soon. I don't know much about the aquatic crew, but I have a feeling I need to make sure they'll let me swim with them first." Nara looked down. This was starting to backfire.

"You asked for it, and now you're getting it. That's an Order."

Nara tilted her head at him quizically.

Then, seeing the smile on his face, started to laugh, "Well, it was worth a shot."

"Got ya. He He He." Klaus smiled. He'd caught it early and turned it to his advantage.

Nara shrugged, "Though, it IS an idea. Just not one I'm ready to commit to."

"Yes, but I don't see why you would need gills? I'm curious as to your reasoning, despite it being a joke."

Nara smiled, "Have you ever enjoyed something so much, even if for a moment, to wish you could stay there forever?"

"Not in a long time, but yes." Klaus smiled. "So you like it underwater?"

Nara nodded. "It's not how I am all the time. But on occasion, I get this urge to be in water. Like it's calling me. I wonder if it's because deep in my bones, I know it's summer in my village about now." She shook her head thinking of her varying, on and off interests, "I have been visiting the dolphins in their pool."

"Probably helps. I've noticed that those that live next to a large body of water, more often than not an Ocean, they long to come back to that ocean specifically."

Nara nodded, "Even if only for the first five years of my life."

"Thats enough. All it takes."

Nara nodded and put back on the serious face, "So where are we on those gills?" Then she smiled again.

"If you still want them for whatever reason, I could theoretically do them, but I think it might be against a few regulations and federation laws."

Nara laughed, "If I ever decide to really get it done, I'll take care of the legal stuff."

"Fair enough." Klaus was still puzzled. He never liked the thought of body modifications of that sort.

"You know, this mission we're on is sounding very interesting, but to tell you the truth, I'd rather be on Earth right now."

"You're homesick too?"

"Federation Day."

"Ahh." Nara had forgotten about it herself. It wasn't that she wasn't patriotic. She just got...preoccupied. "We COULD celebrate on the ship. I hear this new passenger has been causing headaches. Plus going into the danger zone. Not sure if it would feasible, even if a good idea. I decided until we leave the Hydran border far behind I would have Saia stay with an adult when my shift is over. She saw the newscast. I told her it was nothing to care about. It's becoming to where I wonder if I can ever really protect her. Even if I could be with her all the time."

"She may need to learn to take care of herself eventually. One cannot be totally dependent on someone all of the time."

"She's only ten!" Nara tried not to get riled up. "Besides, I let her go around with Sam. It's just now we're headed out there." Nara sighed, "I don't want her being alone when something happens. She told me what happened the day of the crash. She had ran into the museum while her parents were still in the foyer, leaving them close to the shockwave. That's why she lived and they died. They were so close, but it was a line between life and death. I don't want her to be alone if something happens."

Nara shook her head, "Maybe I should just send her back to Trill, but I already let myself get attached to her. Already getting ready to be her legal guardian."

"Were I in your position, I would care for her. What else can you do? She already trusts you. Why break that trust in that way?" Klaus continued to smile.

Nara smiled back nodding, "Of course." That seemed to help. Nothing had prepared her for this enormous worry that would consume her, but Klaus always seemed to have the best thing to say to calm her down.

"Claire and the Wolf Part 2, with the Owner"

Lt JG Claire Barnes

Ensign Running Tree & Timber (NPCs played by Lori C)

Claire walked into the main security office, holding the leash of a wolf, and scared the beejessus out of the crewman on duty, who had just come on shift.

"WHAT??"

"Calm down. He is someone's pet. There should be an Ensign Running Tree come soon. If he does, direct him out back. I am going to get some water for his wolf, and will keep it company."

Heading out to the back of the offices, she got a bowl of water and put it down just in case.

Timber sniffed the water and happily lapped at it wagging his tail.

Running Tree was trying to figure out if he were ticked or relieved. Truth of the matter was, couldn't really blame Timber. He didn't know he was doing anything wrong. Blame those blasted girls. No, blame him. He walked into the security offices feeling like a bad father, but thankful they had his wolf. He was led toward the back.

Timber lifted his head and perked his ears. He sniffed the air and wagged his tail harder, running toward the door. As soon as his master entered, he sat on his haunches and lifted a paw.

Running Tree just touched his head, "I'll deal with YOU later."

Claire grinned as she watched Timber race over, and spoke, "Hi. You must be Ensign Running Tree. Nice wolf."

"Sometimes." He glared at his pet. "This is the second time in one week he's managed to escape. You're making me consider a leash, you know." The last statement was for Timber. He looked up, "Sorry for the trouble."

Timber's posture limped hearing the rebuke in his master's tongue. He's seen him upset before, but hardly ever at him.

Claire shrugged, "Nah, its fine. He is a very good wolf."

"Thanks for getting him. I'll try to keep a better eye on him."

Claire smiled, holding out her hand, "Sure. If you need a sitter, I enjoyed looking after him. My name's Claire by the way."

He smiled taking her hand, "Running Tree, but you can call me Running."

"In Which Kylar Curran tries to give Emmett Bregman an Anal Probe... and fails miserably"

by Emmett Bregman (Laurel) Everyone's Favorite Reporter & Suspected Arch-Villian

& Kylar Curran (Ian) Everyone's Favorite Liaison Officer & Known Arch-Enemy to All

---

Ever get the feeling that they're out to get you? It doesn't matter just who the 'they' represent let alone are. Hell, I'm sounding paranoid, but I've spotted at least one rather obvious security tail in the time since Donahue let the cat out of the bag. It doesn't take a genius, like me, to recognize that someone highly placed suspects me of being the leak. Ha! To quote my fourth wife, 'As if!' Sure, there were plenty of times that I wanted to drop a little note to my editor about the Havras affair. However, I knew exactly what that sort of news would do to the stability of the Federation. While I'm a reporter first and foremost, I have no desire to cause the fall of the government unless, of course, they're corrupt and deserve to be taken down. I have seen nothing of the sort from the Federation government so they're safe, for now. But that still doesn't negate that Starfleet security is after me. I just wonder how much longer I'll have my freedom if this keeps up.

---

Emmett Bregman, star journalist, regarded the amber liquid in his glass with a somewhat forlorn expression. It was damn hard to get an interview with anyone when it was obvious that Goon 1 and Goon 2 (his fondly named Security tail) were following you. Hell, it was hard to do much of anything - let alone do some research on Donahue's obviously slanted news report - with a tail. It was enough to make him want to scream.

However, being Emmett Bregman, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he had taken himself down to the bar, ordered something strong, and sat at a table trying to figure out what he could do. Somehow, he suspected that no one in Starfleet would believe him if he insisted that he was innocent. Ah, the perils of being himself.

Kylar Curran wasn't one to absorb the preaching of Starfleet ideals and vaunted moralities. M'Kantu had asked him to leave well enough alone with Bregman, but avoided ordering it. As if he had jurisdiction over the Diplomatic Officer and civilian reporter.

This was Curran's territory.

The Kelvan had given it a few hours before pursuing the journalist through the avenues of his department so as to better prepare himself for the facetiousness of the man, and to better arm himself with as much information as possible. Now, PADD tucked into holster on his waist, he sought out the reporter.

---

Ten-Forward

Of all the places he had hoped to locate the man, the cantina was the least likely place he would want to have found himself in. It stank of humanoids. Their wretched odors and lack of dignity in absorbing themselves in recreational activity antagonized him. Such a waste of valuable time as the human lifespan was frail and short. Curran himself may have to fall by the failures of the human body in reclaiming constitution, but he chose to do it for as much a minimum of time as possible, with assistance from certain methods.

Admiral Proctor was in a meeting with her aides for the next hour, so he took advantage of the gap in time to interview the journalist - probably something he didn't experience much given the nature of his job.

In entering the thriving entertainment pod, he recognized the rugged features of the man seated at the bartender station alone, save for the pair of security officers hovering nearby. The two Starfleeters were so obvious, they might as well be screaming their intentions. He would be sure to report their inadequacy to Commander Corgan for retraining.

"Emmett Bregman. We have matters that need to be discussed." Surveying the area for eavesdroppers, he followed it up. "In private if you're so inclined."

Emmett laughed, though it sounded rather bitter, "I had wondered when someone else would show up. I'm afraid Goons 1 and 2," he gestured towards the security officers, "Seem to be rather attached to me. I think they'd take it rather amiss if you deprived them of their prey. I'm a popular fellow you know."

"Yes, you are." Curran bored holes into the reporter, no hint of a sense of humor. "You know why I'm here, then."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out," Emmett replied, wondering if the man thought he was intimidating. "You think that I 'spilled the beans' about Havras. Newsflash for you, Legate. If I break a story, I report the story. I certainly don't let someone like Vera Donahue do it for me. That woman couldn't wipe her ass without someone else there to do it for her." His dislike for his fellow reporter was obvious in the tone of his voice.

"The graphic imagery is not needed or wanted, Mr. Bregman. The fact remains that you are a reporter, and your loyalties lie with the Federation News Network. Regardless of your infatuation with Ms. Donahue, someone had to pass the information to her editors. Only those *at* Havras had that level of access to the details. Being on a Starfleet vessel precluded you from actually reporting it, perhaps, but reported it was."

"Then we agree about one thing, Legate. Someone reported the Havras incident though I'm as in the dark as you are as to whom. Though, I will let you in on a little secret," Emmett leaned towards Curran and dropped his voice to a more private level, "I suspect that Vera Donahue has been on the 'take' for some time. It would not surprise me to learn that she has been accepting payments for her stories from less that reputable sources. I'd suggest that before you go leveling fingers at persons of my reputation and influence you focus on her. I'm sure that someone of your...obvious abilities would be able to determine just who fed her the story." He didn't mention that he thought Curran had about as much chance of finding that out without his help as finding his way out of a cardboard box.

"I have not leveled any accusations thus far, Mr. Bregman. You are acting quite defensive, though. Are you hiding something? Guilt perhaps?"

Emmett smiled, "Tilt windmills much, Legate?"

"For a man of your integrity, casting suspicion without confirmed sources about fellow coworkers is disgraceful and an embarrassment to your profession. Do you also report your stories with as much discredit? I may have to re-evaluate the impartiality and intelligence of the FNN editors."

Bregman's eyes narrowed dangerously, "It is a wonderful priviledge in this democracy that everyone is entitled to have their opinion - no matter how mistaken that might be. I invite you to investigate the information that I have given you, and if you continue to feel that tilting at windmills is worth your time I wish you the best. Is that all?" He downed the rest of the liquid in his glass and placed it on the bar.

"Tilting windmills? What does that have to do with anything, Mr. Bregman?"

Emmett shook his head, "What are they teaching in schools these days if they end up skipping 'The man of La Mancha?' Don Quixote de la Mancha thought that windmills were giants and would attempt to joust them. Hence the 'tilting at windmills' line. It'd be well worth your time to look up the reference."

Curran furrowed his brow at the insinuation his education was in need of a children's tale. "Regardless, I will take your story under consideration. Rest assured I will investigate, though, I might add. Why such animosity to Ms. Donahue? What difference does it make who reports what, if all that is reported are facts?"

Bregman's lips stretched into a humorless smile. To ask just what it was that made him hate Vera Donahue was opening a can of worms that might never be closed. "Suffice it to say that Ms. Donahue did several things that are against the journalistic code. If she wished to continue operating as such, she should have been relegated to a tabloid a long time ago. That she hasn't is suspicious in and of itself."

"And is this of your own personal opinion, or do you have corroborative sources to support such a notion? To say she is not impartial is also casting suspicion on her employers, which if I might also add, are the same as yours."

"I know they are, but I suspect they're being held over a barrel. That, however, is just suspicion. As for Vera, I've been collecting things on her for years. Though its not solid enough for me to base a full expose on her dealings with secretive agencies. Individually, what I know means little to nothing. Together, it paints a not so pretty picture of Vera Donahue. But, like I said, its not something that I can base a news report on. It would make me look like nothing more than a gossip columnist. And that is definitely one thing I am not," Emmett responded with a brief shrug.

"Which could also be your reasons for transmitting the Havras data on that report. To garner favors in order to obtain more lucrative information on her dealings. I am fully aware of your close ties to President Jaresh-Inyo before his death, and Min Zife before his resignation as well. Connections of such magnitude, with the right prodding with certain information, can obtain you a fairly heavy amount of questionable background of one reporter of little consequence in the world of politics, wouldn't you say?"

Bregman smiled faintly, "You're reaching, Legate."

"Am I? You are doing very little to disprove anything. Many different ways of deflecting blame elsewhere, but nothing substantial. Contrary to what you may believe, I am not here to prosecute you. If anything, I am your only ally."

"That's interesting. Last time I looked, you weren't on my list of drinking buddies. Last time I checked, you weren't on anyone's list of drinking buddies. Why don't we cut the crap? What do you really want to know? Ask me straight questions, I'll give you straight answers. Off the record, of course," Emmett said, leaning forward on the table.

"There is no 'off the record' on a starship, Mr. Bregman. Everything is recorded in every section of the ship." The Terran slang was disconcerting. "If I understand your analogy correctly, I have been 'cutting the crap'. I don't dance around issues, as some are known to do, so pardon me if I do not allow myself be lead into an angle of your own design."

Curran crossed his arms, his posture perfectly straight.

"You're on a military vessel that participated in Havras. Someone will be assigned blame. It is far too easy to arrange that blame to fall on a down-on-his-luck reporter who had ties to the former administrations of the Federation. One president who failed to address the Dominion War, and another who resigned for reasons that are still being questioned to this day. I'm sure discrediting you would immediately and effectively destroy any plausibility in your reporting and end the controversy over this release of information."

"You've been doing too many cheap spy holonovels haven't you? I should know, I write some," Emmett leaned back into his chair with a wry smile on his face, "Is this the part where I, as the hero in this little caper, say something along the lines of - 'you wouldn't dare. I know people who know people?' Or is this the part where I laugh in your face and give you some false bravado or say 'Hey you're getting better at this just to show you how big my cahones are in comparison to yours?' I can never tell, and that's what truly separates the *cheap* spy holonovel from a good one."

"No, this is where I tell you to 'cut the crap' as you say and stop avoiding the issue at hand. If you're determined to be evasive on the subject, I can arrange for new 'quarters' until you stop and provide me with answers along with corroborating evidence one way or the other, unless you intend to confess." Curran could feel the heat rising in his chest. He didn't dare stop to think if his face was flushed.

"Yet, you sit there and take no action. It would appear to me that you've simply given up and accepted the consequences of your actions, alleged or not. You can have my assistance or deny it. Either way does not matter to me. I've got far more important issues to address than a journalist who finds his next story or conspiracy at the bottom of a glass."

Curran stood up straighter, leaving a blank PADD on the counter and pushing it forward.

"I'll leave this with you. You can either enter your confession of guilt, or provide me with any proof that you are innocent. This is not a civilian court you are unwilling a part of. This is military. Remember that. A confession will keep you out of prison, I'll guarantee that."

"Okay, I have a confession. Up until right now, I didn't know if you really were the bastard you were said to be. Now? Now I know," Emmett smiled, shoving the PADD back towards Curran.

The Kelvan waved over the two security officers, each taking up a position beside the journalist. "Take Mr. Bregman to his quarters and hold him there until he decides to be forthcoming in his answers. Be sure he has a PADD available to him and restrict communication access to intra-ship only. No outbound communication without my consent."

"Damn, there goes my daily porn feed," Emmett looked suitably downtrodden at the thought.

"It's my job to be, Mr. Bregman. I don't have to imbibe alcohol to be an ally to you. The Liaison offices are at your disposal should you wish to pursue legal recourse for yourself."

"I certainly would like to pursue legal recourse for myself, Mister Curran. From a *competent* legal officer who hasn't already decided upon my guilt. Until the point where that officer can be found, I will be in my quarters. Good day."

The reporter turned and smiled brightly up at his two new best friends, "Hi, guys. My quarters are this way." With a bounce in his step, Emmett, accompanied by Goon 1 and 2, left the bar.

2575