"Oral Exam"

FO Teyri "Rock Star" Jen
Maj. Corran "Spots" Rex

*****

Teyri Jen sat on her couch, propping her boots up on the coffee table in front of her, and looked around the quarters with satisfaction. Finally, after a couple of days of reorganizing and replicating and requisitioning, she had her quarters set up the way that she wanted them.

They were somewhat smaller then she was used to, but then, Starbase 212 had a lot more space to waste then the Galaxy did. She had a couple of pictures up on the wall, large framed ones from Veldas, the planet she had grown up on. Her absolute favorite one, the one that she carried with her everywhere she was transferred to, was the nightscape one, where the two moons were just rising over a stark cliff, and the surf was pounding the base of it. There was a huge tree right on the edge, that had branches reaching up into the sky. The scene was about five kilometers from her home, and there had been many times in her childhood when she had slipped out her bedroom window and ran to the tree, to sit in the fork of the gigantic branches, and listen to the pounding of the waves, and watch the moons rise in glorious splendor.

The picture had been a present from her parents when she had graduated from the Academy and received her first assignment to the Venture, and it had not left her possession since then. It reminded her of home, and all she had to do was look at it, and she could almost hear the rhythmic sound of the ocean, and feel the branches swaying in the night time breeze.

But now, it was probably time to return to the present, and finally do the things that she had been putting off ever since she had transferred to the Galaxy from 212. She had yet to check in with her commanding officer, that Trill guy, Corran Rex. The Major. She needed to go see him, let him know that his newest pilot was on board the ship. Ops knew that she was there, because of everything she been requisitioning from them, as well as the increased replicator activity within her assigned quarters, and of course, Security knew she had arrived, since she had checked with them on the way in.

Heaving a sigh, and setting her drink down on the coffee table, she stood, grabbing her flight jacket from the arm of the couch where she had dropped it carelessly after getting dressed, and then left the quarters, heading for the Flight Deck.

***

The aforementioned Trill Major would normally be in his office at this time. Normally, his fighter would have been in perfect working order, the Squadron would have completed their training duties for the day, and those that had auxiliary postings aboard Galaxy itself would be seeing to those duties.

Normally.

But then, normally, he wouldn't have received the (rather nice) surprise of fourteen new Rogue V-class Starfighters, the freshest ones off the production line at New Texas. Normally, he wouldn't have spent three days combing over every fighter to decide which one was his, nor would he have spent the last day becoming familiar with every weld and databoard inside the new fighter.

Drinking from a thermos filled with water, Corran wiped his hands on a towel the deck crew had left him. His eyes flickered over the streamlined canopy and pilot compartment - the one thing that had remained essentially the same in the entire series of Rogues. This iteration had an almost completely different body.

Wings extruded from both sides, with slung-under nacelles that ran two-thirds of the hull, and a top warp speed of 8.5, officially making her the fastest Starfighter in the 'Fleet.

Two.. prongs... he supposed was the best word for them - gave the ship an added atmospheric profile, as well as serving as the housings for the two forward facing Class 1-A pulse phaser cannons. Another nice new feature was the addition of a rear facing one as well - something that had long been an oversight. One dorsal and one ventral standard type VI phaser array ensured the agile craft had no blind spots, either.

Full run microtorpedo tubes allowing for fore and aft fire, positional thrust imuplse drive and uprated RCS thrusters improved combat maneuverability 32 % over the previous model Rogue. Five centimeters of ablative armor decorating it's duranium hull. Twenty-one meters in height, fourteen and a half meter wingspan, and five meters tall. Tough, nimble, and packing a punch.

Corran decided right then and there that he was in love.

"Oooh," came a voice from behind him. "Do we get to play with those?"

"Absolutely," he replied, not looking. After moment, he realized he didn't recognize the newcomer's voice. The blonde cut an attractive figure, even in her flightsuit. She was blonde, Bajoran, and not terribly tall. As there was only one pilot aboard he'd not met, it made the deduction of her identity fairly simple. "Flight Officer Teyri, I presume?" he asked, extending a palm in greeting.

Teyri covered his palm with hers briefly, and nodded at him. "Teyri Jen. How do," she said. "When did these birds come in? I didn't know we were going to get to play with bright shiny toys, or I would have been down here a hell of a lot faster."

"Same time you did, Flight Officer." the Trill shrugged. "This is a little unusual for me - normally, I interview a pilot pretty thoroughly before accepting them into the Vanguards. However, Major Terrick gave you the highest recommendation I've ever seen him give a pilot - which is to say, he didn't hope you flew into a supernova on your way out. For him, that's positively... ringing."

Teyri preened a little, throwing her blonde hair back over her shoulder. "Well, that's always nice to hear. Is there anything you want to cover now, or should I go find my Rogue and move in?"

"Right now, I know four things about you, Flight Officer," he replied. "Your name, the fact that you're a Bajoran, you've got blonde hair, and you're short.

"I'm thinking I need to know more before you get comfortable in your ship."

"Well, what do you want to know? My life is an open book," she said, waving her hand around in gesture.

He chuckled, and took a seat on the floor, leaning against the supply crates that were stacked next to the newly-christened Vanguard One. With one hand, he indicated she should do likewise.

"You don't seem to have the comet-sized chip on your shoulder like a lot of Bajorans, so let's start there."

"All right," she said, dropping down gracefully. She crossed her legs, and let her arms drop into her lap. "I probably don't have a 'comet-sized chip' on my shoulder because I wasn't raised on Bajor. I didn't go through the Occupation - at least, not that I remember - and I haven't spent my entire life as a freedom fighter. That goes a long way in reducing the chip. Not that I'm knocking those who have, mind you, but just explaining."

"Ah, that explains that." the Trill nodded. "When did you learn to fly?"

"Fly what?" she asked, with a chuckle. "We had a couple of runners at home that were rated for space flight, and I learned first on those when I was twelve. After that, I just learned anything I could get my hands on. My parents were good to me, and got me every training manual or schematics they could beg, borrow, or steal for me. Birthdays, holidays, every chance I got for a present, that what I was getting. So, I get the theoretical knowledge long before it ever became practical. Hands on? Learned in the Academy."

"So why fighters, then?" he asked next, gauging her reactions. "Why not the big ships like the Galaxy?"

"Well, I can do that, too. But there's something to be said, don't you think, about being in the cockpit of a fighter. Just you and the controls, and a thin envelope separating you from the most hostile environment known to life. It's amazingly personal, something that flying a ship like the Galaxy could never even come close to approaching. Something like this," she continued, slapping her hand down on the deck below her, indicating the Galaxy, "you turn it, you have to trust by your sensors that it's responding. You lose the forward viewing screen, and you're blind. In those," she waved her hand at the ship right behind them, "I turn the stick, I see the panorama around me change. I lean forward slightly and look to my left, or my right, I can see what's going on all around me. It's..." Words failed her for a moment, and she waved her hands around, looking for the phrase that seemed to fit. "Well, you should know. Why are you flying these, instead of this?" Another slap on the floor.

That only elicited a smile from the major. "You got a callsign yet?"

"Not as such," she replied, remembering back to some of the other call signs that had been bestowed on her over the past couple of years. Definitely not any that she wanted to be stuck with any longer. "So, I passed the written?"

"Well," he corrected, "The oral. We'll talk about the practical the first time I see you fly."

Looking at her for a moment, he contemplated jus what callsign she should have. Not all units used them, but every pilot in his squadron would. "Your callsign's going to be 'Rock Star," he smiled.

"Rock Star?" she responded, screwing up her brows at him. "Why Rock Star?"

"'Cause you look like one." he shrugged. "Why else?"

She snorted. "Not any rock star I've ever seen, but whatever. Rock Star, at your service, Major. When's the practical?"

"One hour." he replied, and pointed out a lone fighter on the side of the bay. "There's your ship, Flight Officer. Check 'er out."

The newly christened "Rock Star" jumped to her feet and ran over to the other side of the bay.

"Battle on The Loud Speaker"

Ensign 8-ball Hunter
Vrih Himne

"Urgh..." Himne woke up on the floor of his quarters with a groan, and then echoed the sentiment of countless Rihannusu, Starfleet officers and Federation heroes over the many years of interstellar travel - "Romulan ale should be illegal."

His head pounding, the Rihannusu attaché staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face - not that it did anything to ease the throbbing. As he grabbed the bath towel, he tried to remember the events of last night.

8-Ball making out with other guy... fight... headed to quarters to get drunk... staggered around a bit... A beautiful Vulcan (who wasn't 8-Ball, at least Himne hoped she hadn't been - his humiliation would be complete otherwise.)

So, where was he? Ah yes... beautiful Vulcan who led him back to his quarters, and then a suitably angry-looking Senator Omar bidding him goodnight. He must have crashed out after that.

That was some day yesterday - yet all he had to show for it was a pounding headache, a nasty cut near his left eye and the loss of a vintage bottle of Rihannusu ale.

Himne composed himself. He had quite a light work schedule today - all he had to do for the senator was check up on the progress of Major T'Riasau's 'project' i.e. the loaning of a Rihannusu cloaking device. That meant he had the morning free.

His immediate thought was to contact 8-Ball... after all, did he really want to remain single for the rest of his time onboard the Galaxy? But did he really want to sacrifice the remainder of his pride either?

Urgh... as the humanised Senator Omar would say - he was between a 'rock and a hard place' as far as decisions were concerned.

Finally he decided to forget his pride, tapping his comm. badge. "Himne to Hunter," he said. "Can we... uh... discuss the events of yesterday?"

Over in the Sciences Department, 8-ball blinked.

She wasn't having a wonderful morning. Early in the day, she had made the mistake of getting into an argument with a junior researcher who was too smart for his own damn good, and she had let it slip that while she was a brilliant science officer knowledgeable in all sorts of weird science shit, she did not know much, or care at all, about anything having to do with atomic or subatomic physics. Then she made the bigger slip of saying that atomic and subatomic physics were never going to help her in this lousy little life and that she could die happy never knowing about them. Unfortunately for 8-ball, this attitude about not wanting to learn every crappy little detail about existence was decidely un-Starfleet, and now 8-ball was stuck researching physics.

Unsurprisingly, her headache from yesterday had not retreated.

As she was scanning over a bunch of long, complicated words that blurred together into one big atomic physics ball of death, 8-ball heard her comm badge go off. Himne wanted to talk about yesterday.

Himne wanted to talk about yesterday?!!!

8-ball hit her commbadge. "Sure," she snapped, ignoring the other science officers in the room with her. "Let's discuss the events of yesterday. Let's CHITCHAT about the complete IDIOCY that was yesterday. What exactly about yesterday did you want to discuss?"

At this point, Himne was sorely tempted to just say 'Nothing, bye' and end the conversation there and then. However, he persevered - something he hoped he wouldn't regret.

"Remind me," he said calmly yet icily, determined not to raise his voice. "Which of us in the relationship was making out with some random person like there was no tomorrow?"

8-ball, less interested in trying to sound calm, did raise her voice. "Oh, that was me," she said, "the disgraceful whore of the Galaxy. But let me also remind you on why I was kissing Running Tree: it was a fucking goodbye kiss, that's it! If you had ANY brains in your head, you'd realize I was leaving Running Tree for YOU, you dickless jackass! Oh, wait, that's not right. You certainly aren't dickless, because after seeing me kiss Running Tree, you decide to ram him like bull and try to prove who's got the bigger set of iron plated balls. Well, congratulations, Vrih, you have proved that you are truly a manly man---witless and thick-headed to the last, just like every other guy in the galaxy. Well done."

"Well okay," Himne said, still keeping his voice level despite the verbal assault coming from 8-Ball. "But let's reverse the situation a second."

"Say you saw me one day with an attractive woman, inexplicably kissing and looking intimate. You come up to me and I give you some feeble excuse, what do you do? Would you meekly shake hands with the woman or would you pummel her in the face? Answer me that!"

A few people actually attempting to work gave 8-ball dirty looks as she argued over the comm. Others drew closer to listen to the latest gossip. "Well, actually, Vrih, I wouldn't pummel her in the face. I'd have my priorities set. I'd pummel YOU in the face. But I might consider actually giving you the benefit of the doubt first, you know, like in the way that relationship are SUPPOSED to do!"

"Whatever." Himne was rapidly losing his patience. "Roundtree, or Running Tree, or whatever his name was - he got pummelled like he deserved. I've no regrets. You don't seriously expect me to apologise for getting upset over you breaking our trust?"

He cautioned her. "Take care what you say, 8-Ball. My patience is wearing very thin, and if we abruptly end this conversation - then that reverse situation might become real, you might actually see me tomorrow making out with a beautiful stranger. So remember, our relationship depends on how many more swear words I have to listen to."

"Oh, and you think hanging our relationship over my head is going to make me swear less?" 8-ball screamed into the comm badge. Several people listening in winced, as if knowing this conversation was just doomed from the start. 8-ball forced herself to take a breath. Godammit, she did not want to break up over the freaking comm system.

"I am sorry that I hurt your feelings," 8-ball said, trying to make her voice sound patient and less bitchy. "I'm even sorry I didn't tell you beforehand. I probably should have, but since I was planning on ending it with Running Tree, I didn't think you'd really need to know. I'm even a little sorry about the kiss, because while Running's not a bad kisser, I don't know if it was really worth the trouble. But yeah, your reaction was extreme to the point of chaos, and I'm not going to apologize for being a little pissed about it. You might think you were fighting Running Tree because of me, but you weren't. You were fighting for your own wounded, pathetic little pride, your honor. Well, you know what I don't find particularly honorable, Vrih? A guy fighting someone who doesn't want to fight back, who damn near didn't fight back until you practically forced him into some stupid contest. I don't find anything honorable in that at all."

8-ball took another breath. Himne was silent, and 8-ball had no idea if he was thinking about what she was saying, or trying to figure out how to best phrase 'fuck you and get the hell away from me'. "Look," 8-ball said, "I like you, Vrih. I really do. In spite of your pride and honor, your freaking obsession with monetary wealth, I really like you. And you seem to like me to, in spite of my mood swings and illogical actions and reputation as the queen bee slut of the ship."

"I want this to work out because I really like being with you. You're the first guy in a long time I've actually wanted a relationship with beyond a few wild flings. I like the idea of a real relationship with you, and that's a big thing for me, it really is. But I'm not going to entirely change my personality for you, or pretend that I like raw targ, or be ashamed of what I am. I'm not a person destined to live in some huge, wealthy estate, being served on by ancient butlers and a staff of sixty gazillion maids. I am who I am, and that isn't going to change, no matter who I'm with."

"So, what I want to know is, are we wasting our breaths here? Do you even really want to try and work things out? Is that what you want, or do you just want to give up now, because I don't know if my being with you is really helping you out at all. Most of the time we just seem to piss each other off, and maybe that's not the best way to spend our days aboard the ship. I really want this relationship, Vrih, but not if you're expecting to transform me into some other person. What is that you want? What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, alright!" Himne blurted out, his patience having finally run out. "I hadn't exactly planned for the eventuality of seeing my girlfriend with a stranger..."

"Look," he continued. "Never mind. I was thinking - we're both rather irritable now. Why don't we just leave it for now - like a cooling off period, just for a... certain period of time? Then we can talk about this some more once it's, you know... well in the past."

8-ball got very quiet for a moment. Everybody in the science department was also silent. Nobody was even pretending to pay attention to work anymore.

"Do you mean like you want to take a break?" 8-ball asked. "Like, stop seeing each other for awhile?"

"Not permanently, you understand," Himne replied. "Just, maybe, for a little while... until this is well in the past. It might be, uh... beneficial for both parties. What do you reckon?"

8-ball shook her head. Beneficial for both parties.

This was such shit.

She went to Running Tree to say that she couldn't have fun with him anymore, which caused Vrih to break up with her. Only now that they were breaking up, she didn't have Running Tree to have fun with while she was single. In other words, she didn't get to have either of them.

Beneficial for both parties. Like a fucking contract, or something.

8-ball was stuck between wanting to scream at him, start crying, or rejoice that she didn't have to deal with his shit anymore. She stayed quiet for a minute, trying to focus on one reaction instead of three, and then finally said, "Whatever. You're probably right. I mean, who wants a bunch of strict boundaries in a relationship anyway? I mean, it's not like you were just talking about SOUL MATES a week ago."

Then, before Himne could respond, 8-ball said, "Look, I've got to actually work, you know, so bye." She hit her comm badge and went back to staring at physics information. People in the lab, disappointed that the show had come to it's conclusion without a huge climax, started walking around and doing their work again. One junior researcher, one of the chemistry pretty boys, walked up to her.

"So," he said, "I hear you're single."

He ran away five minutes later after 8-ball chased him around, threatening to beat him with her shoe. When 8-ball sat back down, she almost thought about tapping her comm badge again and trying to talk to Vrih. But she didn't. Instead, she stared at the physics information, didn't register a damn word of it, and tried not to wonder what Himne was thinking or what he was doing now.

With a deep sigh, Himne sank into his ornate armchair in his quarters, pondering his relationship with 8-Ball. Admittedly, they had their differences. But before he'd seen her with Running Tree, he'd been determined to overcome those differences - he had done everything to make the relationship work.

Now - though he couldn't quite figure out why - he had lost that passion. He'd lost all fight within him to continue their relationship. Maybe after this "break" they were going to have, things would work out alright.

Standing up, he walked over to his terminal and typed out a message to 8-Ball's terminal in the science lab - he wasn't in the mood for another verbal assault over the comm.

'Dear 8-Ball,' the message read. 'It's Vrih. I hope we can be friends.' He finished the short, succinct message and sent it off to the terminal where she was working right now, hoping he'd get an amicable response back.

8-ball clicked on the message and looked at it. Friends.

Friends.

Everybody in the department jumped as 8-ball screeched "FRIENDS?!?!?!?!?!"

8-ball didn't bother typing out a message to Himne. She hit her comm badge hard enough to hurt her chest and said, "8-ball to Himne." She refrained from saying 8-ball to Jackass only because she thought the computer would try to contact too many people by that command.

As soon as he answered, 8-ball said, "I don't WANT to be friends or buddies or pals. I want to be a girlfriend, and if I don't get to be that, then I reserve the right to hate your guts. Lovers don't make good friends, Vrih. If you want to end what very little relationship we had, that's fine, but don't wimp out on me but pleading the 'i want to be friends' excuse. Be a man, for Christ's sake." Then, without waiting for him to respond, 8-ball said, "8-ball out," and hit her comm badge again.

Himne was really getting weary of this - what was wrong with friendship? Surely it was better than them hating each other's guts.

"Himne to Hunter," he said again angrily, raising his voice slightly. "Will you please stop cutting me off? And how dare you ask me to 'be a man.' I obviously wasn't man enough to satisfy your needs before, or else you wouldn't have been intimate with a stranger, so don't start asking now!"

"You're right," 8-ball snapped at him. "You weren't man enough for me." This was complete bullshit but Vrih had managed to piss her off again. First, he wouldn't listen to her about Running; second, he fought Running and pretended it was about her when it was obviously only about his wounded male ego; third, he broke up with her OVER THE COMM SYSTEM, and fourth, he was using that lame ass friends excuse. And HE was pissed at HER?

"I needed someone with a little more manpower, if you know what I mean," 8-ball said. "I mean, yeah, you're okay, but Running. . .whew, do I even need to tell you how good he was? Or should I just let you know what GOOD sex sounds like." She moaned theatrically. "Oh, ohhhhh. Yeah, ohhh, yeeeeaah, baby, just like that, ohhhh yes, yesss, yesssssssssss!"

The science department was now paying complete attention to 8-ball again, the males especially. "Now," 8-ball said. "Was there something else you wanted to say, or can I get back to work now, because as soon as I'm done I can go find somebody else to screw, somebody who's actually worth something in the sack, you know, now that I'm single again and everything."

"Yes, there was something else I wanted to say," Himne replied, silently wondering how many people were listening to the conversation on her end, considering she was talking in her workplace.

"Look," he continued. "I didn't intend to transform you in any way, 8-Ball. It's just that you're a bit, well, aggressive. That's not a problem, expect you're aggressive virtually all the time. I just wanted you to be a bit, you know, passive sometimes. Restrain your opinion occasionally, and smile sweetly rather than pummel someone in the face. It's called social etiquette - and it's what society runs on, at least Rihannusu society."

"Here's a prime example of it - while you're screaming immaturely down the comm, I, however, have restrained my extreme irritation and am speaking calmly, rather than shouting like you. We wouldn't get anywhere like that, would you?

8-ball didn't think Himne had any right to tell her not to pummel people when he had been the one to start the fight with Running Tree, but she kept silent for a minute. When she did speak, her voice was calm but cold.

"I don't think I have a lot to say to you right now that doesn't involve screaming. You wanted a break, so let's have a break. Maybe in a couple weeks we'll both be okay and happy with one another again. . . .probably not, but it's a nice, sweet, syrupy idea. In the meantime, you stay away and I stay away, and we see where we end up. Okay?"

Himne gulped with apprehension - now the "break" didn't sound like such a good idea. But he'd look an idiot by backing down now.

"Yes, a break sounds best for both parties," he said. "However, during this period, are we permitted to see other people? There's a waiting list for me, and if you're moving out the queue..."

Himne trailed off, realising what an absurd line that was. Still, he knew that he was a handsome-looking Rihannusu - and the attaché knew there was an abundance of idiotic and naïve female ensigns onboard, ready for what humans called a "one-night stand" After all, that was how he had met 8-Ball - but it had turned into more than that, only to fail now.

"So, are we allowed to see others?" he asked. "Since it seems you already have with that Running veruul."

"Somehow," 8-ball said drily, "I get the idea that Running Tree might not be interested in seeing me again, since the last time I kissed him you tried to pound him into the wall. So I doubt I'll be cruising around with him any time soon. But yeah, there are some other good looking guys on board that I could be into. I don't know if I have a WAITING list like you but I'm sure somebody will be interested in my being single, what, with my glorious reputation as space slut and all. So, yeah, seeing other people is fine for however long this thing lasts."

"Great, you're single, he's single, everybody's happy," some lieutenant in the corner said. He had the pinched, annoyed look of somebody who had never been laid in his life. "Can you please shut up now so the rest of us can get some work now?"

"Fuck off," 8-ball told him. "Not you, Vrih. Anyway, look, I might have a mob of angry science officers on my hands here, so I need to go, and besides, we've said pretty much everything that needs get to said, right? Nothing else to talk about. So good luck with the ladies, tonight, Vrih: you're free for all the girls who are just lined up for a chance to sleep with you."

"Yes, okay, whatever," Himne pouted, getting really annoyed. It had been a mistake to even start this conversation. "Too bad Running's scurried away after that beating I gave him. Looks like you're going to be having a celibacy phase. Hope you enjoy it."

Now he was just being plain malicious, but he couldn't help it. He was releasing all the anger that had slowly built up over the past few weeks - the anger he had suppressed when she threw insults at him and stole his clothes on the holodeck, the anger that he suppressed when his nickname became "Bathrobe Boy," and finally the anger he had suppressed at being stuck on this human barge rather than being back on Romulus.

8-ball laughed. "As if Running Tree was the only guy that I made out with while dating you," she said. This was incredibly not true at all but Himne just knew how to piss her off. "Trust me, darling, breaking up with you is hardly going to make me celibate. That's just not my style. Now, I don't want to cut you off again because I know how that pisses you off but for the third time, I have work to do and people to yell at and boys to screw, so if it's all the same to you I'd like to end this conversation now and get back to all those things. Okay?"

"Other guys? What?" Himne asked with sudden, angry indignation. "Look, alright, it doesn't matter. I'll talk to you in a week or two, I guess. Himne out." He tapped his badge again, terminating the link. He had had enough of this conversation, that much was certain.

8-ball closed her eyes and sighed. It was probably good they stopped talking when they did. . .they should probably have stopped when they were ahead, but then they wouldn't have gotten much past 'hello' before having to terminate the conversation. Maybe this relationship was doomed. Maybe the idea of her being in a relationship at all was too ludicrous for words.

Still. . .

For awhile there. . .

She had started to like the idea. Not a fling, not a friends with benefits with relationship. A boyfriend. An actual boyfriend.

"Thank God for small favors," the pinched-looking lieutenant said. "Now that 8-ball's done breaking up, we can finally get some work done."

8-ball threw her shoe at him.

"These things must be done delicately" 

Principal Characters:

Lt. Ella Grey
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

Mirusa VI
Archaeological Base Camp
Search Team Staging Area

Ella looked at the alien city with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension before turning back to her computer PADD. She checked the list of names, noting that there was no one on her team that she couldn't live with, and then decided to check who would be her escort per protocol. She'd never met this Ensign Jacobs but she assumed he or she would be like most security officers- dull, humorless, a pain in the ass...

She watched with interest as the name suddenly disappeared from her screen. While she found escorts to be annoying, she wasn't sure that she wanted to go on this particular mission without one but then she knew that someone was probably overriding the system to make some changes. Sure enough, another name soon replaced that of the lost Ensign Jacobs.

Ella didn't frown but she didn't look particularly happy either. She was still angry at him for dismissing her the other day and they had never gotten around to that dinner. She stood there, not frowning, and wondered why he had switched the orders and then wondered if she could get through the mission without yelling at him.

She felt a familiar presence move behind her and turned. Ella stared at him for a moment and then relaxed her face into its 'pleasant mode'. "Hello, Tiger."

“Grey.” Victor nodded. She was still mad, he could tell. She never spoke to him in her flat, dead voice unless she was mad. Her fingers weren’t the same as a real voice, but at least they were alive. “I’ll be your assigned security personnel today.” Jacobs wasn’t good enough to watch out for her, not in a place like this, which was why Victor had changed the authorization and replaced him. Grey might be mad at him, might hate him and not be *his* friend any more, but he was still *hers,* even if he wasn’t a good one.

Friends didn’t let friends die on alien worlds if they could help it.

She knew it was a bitchy thing to ask but she couldn't seem to help herself from saying the next words that fell from her mouth. "Is your new friend tagging along for the ride?"

Victor reflected that Grey didn’t need a living voice to make her feelings about the Flight Officer clear. “The Flight Officer only works with Security part-time, Grey. Right now she’s in a fighter waiting to do her other job.”

"Bully for her." Ella said.

She was still mad. “Why is her working in security such a problem for you, Grey?”

Because I hate that she gets to spend the time with you, Ella thought. She's winning and I think I'm turning Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-green with jealousy. "I don't like her," was what she said.

Victor tilted his head to the side. “What does that have to do with anything, Grey? No one likes me, but they work with me when they have to.”

"It's not the same."

“Why not?”

Ella decided to be honest. Well, mostly honest. "I feel like she'll take you away from me."

Victor took a few seconds to puzzle through that. Grey was afraid that Angelienia would take him away from her? Take him away how? Literally? That she’d carry him off and lock him away in a dungeon or something? No that was silly – there weren’t any dungeons on the Galaxy. Maybe… of course. She was afraid that Angelienia would decide to be his friend since he wouldn’t give her what she really wanted, and that if the Ktarian was his friend there would be no time for her, no time to talk, or to keep her night demons away. Not that she’d needed him for that recently, something that made him both glad and sorry at the same time. It was good that she was winning the fight with her demons, but after so long with someone there on the assignment with the Attendant, he found that he missed the presence of another when he woke in the mornings. “The only place the Flight Officer wants to take me, I’m not interested in going, Grey.”

Ella couldn't help the grin that suddenly appeared on her face. ~~Yeah?~~

“I didn’t want it when she started this and I don’t want it now. I’m not doing that to myself again.”

~~I suppose it was silly of me to be jeal... be concerned. She's an appalling sort of personality, isn't she?~~ As Ella signed this, though, she knew it wasn't true. Angelienia did have some decent qualities, hadn't the memory with her brother proven that. But Ella decided that she was still a bitch.

Grey was talking with her hands again, which meant she wasn’t mad any longer, that was good. It made Victor’s head hurt to try and figure out what she really meant when she was mad. “I wouldn’t know, Grey. She seems straightforward enough to me. I just don’t want the same thing that she wants, that’s all.”

And what about with me, Victor, Ella wanted to ask. Would you ever want that thing with me? The Victor in her head gaped at her, as she imagined he might should she ever be stupid enough to say such a thing out loud, and then waxed poetic about 'the One' and how Ella Grey and 'the One' could never be synonymous. Rather than continue on that particular mental path, she decided to change the subject.

~~Do you expect any trouble?~~

“Yes.”

Ella didn't need any words to express her amusement at his quick reply or her curiosity as to where the trouble lay.

“I always expect trouble, Grey.” Victor looked at the ruins past her and frowned, one of the variations that she’d rarely seen. “There’s something here. Something old. It’s watching us.”

She followed his gaze to the ruins and nodded. If Victor got the heebie-jeebies from something, then she had little doubt that it was real. ~~What do you think?~~

“I don’t know what it is.” He looked back down at her. “But if it threatens or attacks anyone, then I’ll kill it.”

Ella smiled faintly. ~~Your flock of sheep will shit themselves if you kill it before negotiations, Tiger.~~

“Then they’ll have to.” Victor shrugged. “The Universe does not send me to places where all there is to do is stand around and smell the flowers, Grey – unless the flowers are going to try and eat someone.”

She smiled because if that wasn't a Victor comment, then she didn't know what was. ~~You know...~~

Victor frowned. He knew a great many things, but the specific one that Grey was talking about wasn’t clear. “I know what?”

She realized that this was probably the closest she was going to be able to tell him how she felt because she doubted even the threat of some impending alien doom or if the universe were about to end would wrench it from her. But she felt like the moment called for it, seeing as she wasn't going into a long monologue about how stupid he was being.

~~Just that even with the time we spend together, it never seems like its enough.~~ Ella said.

“Enough for what, Grey?” Sometimes talking to Grey made Victor’s head hurt even when she wasn’t mad.

Ella shrugged, embarresed.

With yet another frown Victor opened his mouth to speak – and his combadge warbled, interrupting him with James Corgan’s voice. =/\=”All Security Personnel report to Rally Point alpha for final briefing.”=/\=

“I have to go, Grey.” Victor looked at her for a moment started to turn away, and then stopped to say. “Don’t smell any flowers while I’m gone,” before he moved off.

Her mechanical laughter followed him as he left.

"The Dating Conspiracy"

Ensign 8-Ball Hunter
Science Officer

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

8-ball had not been in a good mood for three days straight. For starters, her new boyfriend, key word being new, very brand, freshly new, was now no longer her boyfriend because he had already broken up with her. Well, no, they weren't really broken up: they were just taking a break. A BREAK?!! Who took breaks anyway---if you needed a break in a relationship that wasn't even a month old, maybe the relationship wasn't meant to be. And if boy problems weren't enough, 8-ball still had to contend with the little monsters in day care. Thankfully for her, the flashbacks or hallucinations or whatever of little dead Azra hadn't returned, but 8-ball felt even more uncomfortable around the children now and was eagerly counting down the hours until she was done with this crap.

8-ball wanted to be in a better mood quickly, and she only knew two good ways of doing it. One was drinking, but that was out because she had to be on duty in about an hour. The other was annoying the shit out of someone. As she walked through the corridor and spied Saul Bental nearby, she knew exactly who to pick on.

8-ball walked up to Saul, conscious of the fact that the two had only spoken a relative few times, and every time they did, 8-ball's first words were always memorable and always included the best four letter word of all. "Hi, Saul," 8-ball said with a grin on her face. "How you doing? Well, that's good. What the FUCK is going on with you and Nara and Branwen?"

Saul's forehead slightly furrowed at the sound of his old classmate's voice. As he turned around, his mind absorbed and recognized a few, simple fact :

A) The speaker was 8-Ball. B) The speaker was 8-Ball, who sounded rather irritated and overly frisky. C) The speaker was 8-Ball, who sounded rather irritated and overly frisky, and she was asking him about Naranda and Branwen D) The speaker was 8-Ball, who sounded rather irritated and overly frisky, and she was asking him about Naranda and Branwen using the word 'FUCK'. E) 8-Ball plus Irritated plus Nara and Bran plus FUCK equals not good.

Well, there was something to be said in favor of an Intelligence officer's sharp mind and quick thinking.

By the time 8-Ball could see Saul's face, he was smiling, and a plan began to devise its way through his brain - as always.

"Finally!", He prompted, "I knew you'll finally understand! What took you so long?"

8-ball raised an eyebrow.

Hmmmm.

This was not the reaction she was expecting. Or hoping for, for that matter.

Saul was a nice guy. Well, she didn't know him that well, but he seemed to be a nice guy. Unfortunately, he was also a devious little bastard... which, admittedly, made him entertaining, but also made it harder for her to just get what she wanted right away. Obviously, he had some sort of little scheme up his sleeve and was looking to confuse her.

Either that, or she just didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

Option A was more fun, so 8-ball narrowed her eyes at him, looked at him suspiciously, and said, "I don't know what took me so long. Tell me what I finally figured out, and I'll tell you if I actually have or not."

"Well...", Saul grinned. It was the impish Saul Bental grin many merchants on the Utrecht system and the nearby sectors learnt to expect and fear. "As one of the ingenious graduates of the illustrious class of '79, you figured out that both my ongoing affair with Bran and my complex friendship with Nara, are a plot to make YOU jealous, and bring YOU to me instead of me coming to you and trying to hit on you. Clearly, the scheme was successful! Here you are, demanding an explanation, to know just where WE stand!"

Well, she did say he would never dare to date her, didn't she?

8-ball blinked. Her mind silently said one word.

Huh.

Well, it was entirely possible that Saul, devious, little evil being that he was, was fiendish enough to come up with such a twisted little plot to ensnare 8-ball, but she didn't really believe it. One, it was just too funny, and two, 8-ball very well remembered the fear in his eyes she had seen once before at the terrifying prospect of dating her.

So, 8-ball could be all flustered and weirded out and protest that she had no feelings for Saul and run away. . .or she could have more fun.

"I should have known you would have come up with such a diabolical plot to ensnare me into your arms," 8-ball said, her face very serious. "Well, we all know how smart you are Saul, here I am and I've played right into your arms. You've made me so jealous I can't think about anything else. I spent every night awake, picturing your face, your voice, your naked butt, and I just can't do it anymore. I have to know where we stand, Saul. Have you really just been playing games with me, or do you want something more, because I know what I want, Saul. I'm ready for you."

Saul's grin grew wider. "And here I was, thinking it was too late... because the rumour was you were already taken, by a certain Romulan."

8-ball, who had started smiling despite her intentions to keep a straight face, immediately frowned. Godamned Himne and his godamned masculine crap. "Well, I'm surprised you haven't heard, being an Intelligence officer and all," she said wryly. "I was dating a certain Romulan for awhile but that kind of fell apart REAL fast, so let's not worry about him. Anyway, even when I was with him, I was always thinking about you." She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Great!", Saul wasn't sure if this was joke matter, but 8-Ball seemed to be game. "So, what would you like to do on our first date?", He inquired, innocently.

"Well, gosh, there's just a whole bunch of stuff we could do," 8-ball said. "I mean, we could go traditional. . . dinner and a movie. . .maybe a little sex. . .or we could go more modern with something weird like bungee jumping or rock climbing and maybe a little sex. Sex is probably going to be a part of the equation either way. But before we get there and you get me entirely away from my original line of questioning: I've talked a bit to both Nara and Branwen and neither of them seem to think that they're relationship with you is based on some fiendish plot to suck me in." 8-ball smiled at Saul. "So before all the sex, why don't you really tell me what's going on with them?"

"Do we have to do that before sex?", Saul demanded, pretending to be disappointed. In fact, several years back when he was a cadet, he recalled 8-Ball's name infiltrating a couple of guys-talks among his classmates, which revolved around sex. She was never brought up by him, however – then again, how could he guess that he would end up on the same ship with the infamous Vulcan-Human?

Another thought crossed his mind; That, in a neutral environment, ignoring any possible implications and consequences, having sex with 8-Ball could be very… interesting.

"Yes," 8-ball said, blinking innocently. . .well, pretending to, which probably didn't come off well. Even strangers didn't usually confuse 8-ball with innocence for very long. "I need to know. I don't know what's happening between you three, and I can't stand the idea of building a relationship without trust." She tried for an innocent expression again, knowing that it was completely belied by her wide smile. "Come on, Saul. Tell me the truth."

"The answer is simple, 8-ball. None of your business. I'm not going to provide any fuel for the ship's rumour mill."

"Well, why not? Come on, Saul. Look at our lives on this ship. We have memory swapping, Breen attacking, all sorts of weird shit. We've got to do something fun and not necessarily fatal to enjoy our time. Besides, I sort of like Nara and Bran and I'm curious and, you know, bored. Please, Saul. Pleeeeeeeease."

"If you're THAT bored, we can have more talent shows... or bring new fresh officers to be tormented...", Saul insisted.

8-ball stomped her foot, but without any real anger. "Oh, you're no fun at all. And thank you very much, but I don't DO talent shows. Oh, all right, I'll stop bugging you about your love life even though I think you're being very silly about all this rumor business. I won't tease you anymore, but if, and only if, you entertain me somehow. I'm single, bored, and desperately want to do something intriguing and exciting. Anything, really, that doesn't have anything to do with Romulan idiots, science, or children." She dropped to her knees and grabbed his arms overdramatically. "Please, Saul. Please save me from the boredom and misery of working on a Starfleet ship."

Saul chuckled. He then realized something that 8-Ball won't realize until later on.

He just got his first recruit for his autumn plan.

"Well, if I ever get any interesting side trips, I'll be sure to bring you along... in the mean time, are you going down to Mirusa?"

"Yes," 8-ball said, her voice less than thrilled. Sure, going to some dig site sounded like it would be cool, like you got to discover weird, ancient, alien shit and shoot people who wanted it to for whatever their evil, nefarious purpose was, but it rarely ever was this much fun. The days of evil, nefarious villains who gloated while twirling their thick, black mustache just seemed to be numbered, and it depressed 8-ball sometimes

"All right, we will probably be on the same team!", Saul stated cheerfully. Cora just informed him that he will be going with the scientific team instead of joining the search parties. Well, maybe she was afraid that he would double cross her again and defect to the lines of the enemy.

"We'll surely find fun stuff to do on the planet. Archeological dig sites are more fun than theme parks - guaranteed!"

8-ball sighed. This was not entirely her idea of fun. "I think I'd take the theme park," she said. "But at least I'll have company, I suppose." And get away from the kids, 8-ball realized, though she wasn't dumb enough to say this out loud. She didn't want anyone, least of all Saul, finding out about her less-than-normal problems with working with the children.

She started to smile at Saul and then instantly frowned instead. "You know, you haven't told me anything I wanted to know. About Nara or Bran or anything."

Saul decided to go easy on 8-Ball before the end. "I can't resist your charm forever now, can I? As for the girls, I promised them I will give them an answer about how I feel, tomorrow.", He informed her, "I've been a real ass and I'm going to fix this. You will NOT leak this information, eight, or Intelligence will have ways to make you suffer."

"I don't see how," 8-ball said. "The ship already knows everything there is to know about me. One of the advantages of having a bad reputation is that it limits what other people can blackmail me with. Everybody already knows my dirty little secrets. . .probably because half the ship has been a participant in them. But all right, I'll keep my mouth shut. Good little girl, see." She grinned at Saul.

"Good. Because I think you should know..." Saul slowed his speech down to dictation pace, emphasizing every word, "that - the – Intelligence -department - has - strong - ties - with - the - ship's - school..."

8-ball's eyes went wide with horror, most of it genuine, and then she slugged Saul in the shoulder. "You're an evil little minion, you know," 8-ball said.

"All part of the job.", Saul retorted.

"All right, all right, I'll be good, I promise. I'm very trustworthy you know. But only if you actually talk to Nara and Bran and make some kind of decision, instead of waiting around playing them with your thumb up your ass. Neither Nara or Branwen are exactly friends, but I like them well enough and I'm into the whole girl power thing, at least this month." She stuck out her hand. "Deal?"

Saul quickly inspected 8-Ball's hand and arm, ensuring there aren't any surprises (Trans-phasic shockers were a hit back on the academy, you can never know if she kept one), then shook her hand once.

"Deal.", He said, and meant it.

"How to recruit an agent in 7 simple steps – Part III, Soul Surgeon's Scalpel"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Intelligence Officer / Lily Squad leader

It is your third week, and you already feel like you're breaking. No one ever told you that Starfleet Academy was going to be so rough! The pressure, the high difficulty of the studies, the loneliness among so many unfamiliar faces, the lack of sleep, the tests…

You were used to being surrounded by Starfleet officers. Your mother and her colleagues – you didn't hold all of them in high respect, far from it. They were regular people, despite their fancy uniforms and ranks. Some of them most definitely less skilled than you. So, you think, if they could've graduated from Starfleet Academy, it should prove to be a cakewalk for you.

Three weeks into your Starfleet training, and you already curse yourself for your youthful pride.

Your friends. You cling to them like a drowning man reaching for the life buoy. Melod especially. The Bolian cadet was introduced to you back home on Bolarus, and since you arrived he was always there for you, whether it was homework, adapting to the new environment, to even simple stuff like how to fold the blanket correctly and how to use combat rations during field trips.

You see, you already had an agreement to be bunk mates once the permanent rooms will be assigned. It's all closed, all settled.

The instructor comes in and reads the roommate names. After six names, he calls Melod's name and… Cadet Reyes' name?

Later, you are told by someone that Melod asked Reyes to be his bunkmate because Reyes is the relative of one of Starfleet's famous Captains, and creating an alliance between the two of them will help them both get ahead. But, as you stand there at attention, among your fellow cadets, you feel so betrayed and insulted that your mind perceives nothing, not even the fact that the bunkmate assigned to you was the only Klingon in the class.

* * * Five hours before Mirusa away team departure * * *

Nyoko shook her head. "Imagine to yourself, sharing a room with a Klingon for four years. I would've DIED."

"It's a defining moment.", Saul told her, reading absently through the file once more. "I think that at this very moment the Lieutenant realized that you need connections to get ahead."

"Oh, I could've told him that.", Nyoko replied bitterly.

For hours the two of them were going through all the material Seren could get about Lieutenant Lin, the member of Proctor's team which the two plotted to turn into their ears and eyes near the Admiral.

Saul felt quite groggy. He didn't sleep for twenty five hours straight, and since they were approaching Mirusa there was no time to waste sleeping.

The files were a treasure. Only god knew how Seren could get them legally. He probably asked Ensign Novitz to achieve them, telling him that this was a regular operational security background check. If Saul knew intelligence men, Seren probably asked for information about several other officers from Proctor's team in order to disguise his true intentions.

The rest of the material was probably just lying somewhere in some archive, untouched for years until the Intelligence department's Informatician unearthed them.

* * * Starfleet Academy, 2402 * * *

"… get to know them intimately.", Nyoko continued.

Her crowd - a group of young cadets, some of them not even born when she served with Saul on the Galaxy - was fascinated.

"You need to predict their every move. You need to utilize every fear, every desire in order to operate them. Some Intelligence handlers will tell you that most of their contacts they know only superficially, and that a few stereotypical behavior patterns are enough to subdue those contacts to your needs. These handlers often end their career at the wrong side of an agent's disruptor, just because they pushed the wrong emotional button."

She turned toward the projector. A rather enigmatic caption hovered in mid air : 'SOUL SURGEON'S SCALPEL'.

"Basically, what Saul and me were doing was to dissect the man's personality. Some times you cut in so deep with your emotional scalpel that it scared and hurts even you."

* * *

You face the animal. The beast glares at you, and growls. Its white skin is so stretched that you can almost imagine it torn from the stretching, revealing the skull beneath it. It is taller, it is stronger, and unlike you it is not sweating.

Its reptilian features make you shiver, and you forget everything you were taught at security classes. Hand to hand, self defense, acquired instincts. All vanish into thin air two meters from this incarnation of childhood nightmares.

Blood. There's not blood in your head. How could it be? You can FEEL your pulse, but it seems the blood is just not being pumped up. Perhaps it's for the best. You won't feel the pain when that blade will crave you.

But how could this be? This cannot end here! You can't just DIE!

You collapse on the floor and shout just as the beam hits the Cardassian and disintegrate his body, his nasty grin the last visible feature – much like the Cheshire cat's smile just before he vanishes in Alice in wonderland, you think before you lose consciousness.

* * * Four hours before Mirusa away team departure * * *

"Not a big hero.", Nyoko commented. Hours of tiresome reading and analysis made her far more sarcastic than usual.

"I don't know about you, I never had to face a Cardassian in combat.", Once more, Saul came to Chun's defense. It seemed to Nyoko that Saul almost liked the guy. She couldn't understand how he could, since Chun Lin represented the type of Starfleet officers Saul loathed – fixed minded rich kids who join Starfleet because their parents told them or because it seemed the right thing to do for an upper-class Admiral-wannabe.

"You'd run away, then send someone to stab the Cardassian in the back while he's at a concert."

"I think using a snipe Phaser or poisoning the Cardassian's food are more risk-free method. Otherwise, you're probably right.", Saul said, sounding dead serious.

Nyoko aligned several PADDs on the table. "Got enough material already?"

"Almost, almost.", Saul murmured. He was dying to catch some sleep. He was so dazed that only by sheer luck the paragraph caught his eye.

"Metzuian, I think I finally got the last piece, Nyoko. Now I know how to approach him… problem is, we have only four hours to do it, before I go down to the planet."

* * *

On your way home back from the city, you feel a tingle in the bottom of your stomach. You keep sneaking glances at your left wrist, where the colorful implant can be seen just beneath the skin. Cyber Bracelets are the latest call in Bolian fashion, although (and perhaps, because) it is considered illegal in some parts of Bolarus XI, and the Federation for that matter.

It is a big day back home. Mother is holding a reception for an important persona, as always. Dad is probably there two, and you hope that they will both be too preoccupied to notice.

Your new subdermal bracelet looks cool. You're proud of it.

Luck doesn't shine on you when you get back to the mansion. Mother, despite standing in the midst of a group of Bolians and other aliens, has an amazing hawkish sight.

She grabs your shoulder and leads you firmly to the kitchen, where you're rebuked once the cook is dismissed.

Later, you will hear her argue with your dad. Everyone are wearing it, it doesn't do harm, he will tell her. It's not appropriate for the attaché's son, she will counter, it is even illegal in some places, don't you know the our official stand is against cybernetic implants which are not for medical purposes?

You? You know you're not going to give up. This is your bracelet. It is cool, its lights are sparkling through your skin, you like it.

It's your bracelet.

"Zesty Chaos"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Ensign 8-ball, Sciences

Lt. (jg) Saul Bental, Intelligence/Lily Squad Leader

*** Mirusa, Jericho Expedition encampment, central compound ***

Nara looked around her at the people on the team. She recognized some of them, but she stepped up beside 8-Ball in particular, "This should be interesting."

8-ball, not as enthused about yet another new mission that would probably involve all sorts of danger and death and weird freakishness like memory swapping, said, "Yeah, probably," in a less than pumped tone. If they got on this away mission and there were any orphaned kids around, any at all, she was running away fast as she could. She didn't need that kind of shit in her life.

Then she noticed Saul was also in the room, and glanced at Nara, thinking of that whole complex relationship which she didn't really understand. "Yeah, this might be interesting after all," she murmured under her breath.

Saul saw that she was looking at him, and approached the two ladies casually.

"Hey 8-Ball, Princess.", He said, smiling at the two of them. As his eyes met 8-Ball's, they flashed a silent warning not to mention the little chit-chat the two of them had earlier that day in front of Nara. It could make things... uncomfortable.

"I don't know about you, but I'm glad my boss didn't pick me to join the search parties. I would love to run around the ruins, but not with a couple of three-legged bullies trotting around me."

8-ball picked up the warning in Saul's eyes and grinned at him. She decided to keep her mouth shut, for now at least. She could always use their earlier conversation as blackmail later. Blackmailing Saul could be very entertaining. "Hey, Saul," she said.

Nara smiled a little at the nickname, "I liked the idea of walking around here myself. Maybe it's in the blood." Nara smiled thinking of her father, who was now on some dig somewhere himself. Thankfully, he was far from any Hydran border, so he was safe. "Imagine all the interesting things these scientists are discovering." She looked at 8-Ball knowing she sounded like a complete geek, "I'm more likely to read their findings in some FNN post rather than go looking myself, but it's still got to be pretty neat."

Saul rubbed his hands. "It's settled, then... first chance we get, we're going to dodge school and go have fun in the ruins."

And without shooting Ferengi this time, Saul added inwardly, recalling the little adventure he had with the Galaxy's previous science chief when the two of them were kids.

8-ball briefly wondered what exactly one would do to have fun in a bunch of ruins, but she still liked the idea of playing hookey because whatever happened, it would have to be more fun than what they would do here. 8-ball did not want to get stuck looking through a bunch of files, which was unfortunate because that was probably what would happen.

Nara smiled, containing a laugh and nodded, "Most definitely." Then she turned mockingly serious and whispered, "Or maybe not. Remember what happened last time I played hookie." She was making a joke, but only because she knew he was only joking as well. No way was she going to actually dodge the mission. She had no intention of dodging the last one either. Then she sighed looking around, "I guess we better get started somewhere."

8-ball sighed deeply. "I guess. There are all the files to look through." She made absolutely no move towards them. "Or we could find something else to do, preferably much more interesting." She grinned at Saul, knowing that she could probably make him uneasy just by smiling at him. "Any suggestions, Saul?"

Nara glanced at Saul, wondering what his vote was.

"I'm open for every suggestion that doesn't involve mathematics," Saul replied. "As for the files, they're a mess, but I'm sure that with the right methodology we can get them re-organized in no time and get ourselves a free afternoon. Also, I'm sure they'll be fascinating to read. I absolutely love history. Here, they clean the dust off a completely unknown civilization, revealing its stories, myths, legends... I think it's incredible."

Nara smiled, looking at him a moment, feeling that fondness that quickly saddened and angered her, but instead of taking it out on him-as she usually did-she walked over to one set of files and picked up something. "Then let's get started." She looked at the paper scanning it, wishing she had time to read it, but she was only looking for information on how to organize it.

8-ball sighed, shook her head, and quickly followed suit. She knew it. Archaeological dig sites more fun than theme parks? Ha!!!

Surprisingly, though, as she scanned the files, she actually found herself to be at least moderately entertained, though admittedly she'd drop those files in a hot second for a chance to go do something action-y and fun. Anthropology was her strong suit, though, and while she actually specialized best in the physical side of anthropology, the history and culture could be interesting to, on occasion. Studying Klingon sex life and mating rituals had been particularly exciting, especially when 8-ball got to do field research. This was not Klingon mating rituals but it was semi-entertaining, and 8-ball quickly scanned and sorted stuff, hoping to get this done soon for her promised free afternoon.

Behind the two girls, Saul quickly grabbed a couple of the expedition's scientists, and using his very gentle interrogation skills (Also known as 'Asking nicely') extracted all the information he could about the files.

It seemed that Doctor Jericho's documentation methodology was the infamous YSSHTF"I WID"S method ('You See Something And Have Time For It - Write It Down Somewhere'), which meant that there was no order whatsoever, no standards, no division to topics... nothing. And all the data sprawled in disarray across three different computer cores, not to mention the paper - paper! - prints that were spread virtually everywhere.

Armed with the new knowledge, Saul returned to help the two girls, mostly giving some sound advice in how to sort the files and where to store them. It seemed that a year of pushing Intelligence analysis papers around Starfleet Intelligence HQ finally paid of for the young Lieutenant.

It seemed that the rest of the away team was quite relieved to see that the three officers took care - for some odd, inexplicable reason – of the messed files issue, and kept their safe distance so that Saul won't accidentally draft them to help with the reorganization efforts.

As she worked, Nara smirked not looking at anyone, "Seems you would make a fine secretary, Saul Bental." It was a light-hearted insult, she knew-or hoped-Saul would take with the same amusement she spoke it.

"Just don't tell that to Lieutenant Dobryin... I'm half way there.", The Intelligence officer hissed.

Nara let out a laugh as she placed a file aside in a group of similar documents. "It's a wonder they got anything done with this chaotic filing."

"Oh, I like a bit of chaos," 8-ball said. "It adds a bit of zest to life."

"When Disaster Movies Go Bad" aka "Sorting Through Jericho's Files"

by Lt. Jasmine Heloi Chief Science Officer/Vanguard XO

Cmdr. Karyn Dallas, RN Chief Counselor/Second Officer

Ens. T'Ashaya Operations Officer

------- Mirusa VI Base Camp Dr. Jericho's Office Tent -------

Dr. Jericho's office resembled a classic disaster movie set. Papers, PADDS, and odd objects were scattered about in seemingly random disarray. Jasmine Heloi looked about herself and released a low whistle through her teeth. She wasn't expecting the disaster zone that she had walked into. There were even biological hazards that must have once been food on assorted tables.

"This looks like fun," she commented sarcastically to her companions. Jazz had decided to go through Jericho's field notes under the guise of 'organizing' them. Knowing that the job would turn into something that no mere mortal - even an actress who used to play a superhero - could tackle, she had asked T'Ashaya and Commander Dallas to join her. Hopefully, with their help, the job would not take too long. However, after seeing the mess she had found herself in she felt her hopes dying a slow and miserable death.

Karyn grimaced and fought the urge to hold her nose. "I know geniuses are often eccentric, but I thought scientists were supposed to be organized." She turned to Heloi, team lead for this science oriented mission. "Where should we start?"

"Well, I guess we can tackle the tables first," Heloi suggested, gesturing towards the three long tables that held archaeological artifacts, assorted notes, and 'biological experiments.' "I specifically want to check to see if we can find out what happened to the missing archaeological team members and more about these ruins. If you spot something interesting, let me know."

Dallas nodded, grateful she had elected to use her mechanical legs rather than her hoverchair for this Away Team mission. Though walking was more exhausting, it was easier for her to maneuver in tight spaces. She edged the leftovers off of a PADD and began reading. "I sure hope these notes aren't written in too much code."

T'Ashaya looked at the mess around them. "I suggest starting with a match," she stated flatly, starting into at nearby pile. "I don't understand why people insist on using multiple PADD devices for storing different bits of data. They're computers, for heavens sake, and network into the main computer for backups. One PADD per person. Transfer the data between individuals PADDs as needed, avoid the irritation of having to sort through a stack of five hundred of them."

She picked up a nearby PADD and scanned the data on it. It contained mainly love love letters Dr. Jericho had written to his research assistant, but had never sent. "I declare this PADD the 'useless data' PADD. All useless data: laundry lists, ordinary quartermaster supply lists, and the like, should be transferred to this PADD. The PADDs that are empty, should be placed here." T'Ashaya picked up an empty garbage receptacle and set it in the middle of the room.

With a broad motion, she swept all the clutter from the good Dr's desk like a tsunami sweeping away a small port city. Fortunately there were no artifacts on this desk. Only PADDs and scribbles on pieces of paper. "This is where we put potentially useful information," she stated. She picked up another PADD and discovered notes on the site from early in the dig. "PADD data that may be useful should be transferred onto this PADD for later analysis."

"That works," Jasmine nodded as she picked up a notebook. Flipping through the handwritten pages, she discovered barely legible notes and sketches of artifacts and temple drawings. "One of my agents used to tell me that bad handwriting was either evidence of poor teaching or an advanced mind. After looking at this poor excuse for handwriting, I'd lean towards poor teaching." The Betazoid sighed and settled herself cross-legged on the floor and began to read. Or, rather, stumble through the paragraphs and pause at words that were barely legible.

"And a desk cluttered with PADDs is a sign of a cluttered, irrational mind," T'Ashaya retorted. She began looking through the things that she'd just swept to the floor. Trash. Trash. Trash. A pornography video clip of a five way with two Andorian females (one of each, the shen dressed as a dominatrix) a human male (bent over the knees of the shev and receiving a spanking), and Andorian sub-male riding a Tellerite male. Trash. Trash. Useful. She transferred a bit of data to the PADD for 'useful data' and handed the PADD with the video clip of the Lieutenant Heloi.

"Is that useful, or not useful?" she asked. "I think it should be useful as grounds for advising the good Doctor seeks the assistance of a qualified psychiatrist."

In an unconscious mimic of Sam's arched eyebrow, Jasmine regarded the video clip with an expression of vague distaste. She never understood the urge to watch such...activities. "I think that's about the only use for it, Shay. Definitely not as grounds for explaining what happened to the archaeological team." She smiled faintly as she handed the PADD back to her friend. "If you find more like that, might as well store all of it on that PADD."

The operations ensign gave a slight nod of acknowledgment as she took back the PADD. From somewhere she managed to find a roll of masking tape and a red marker. She tore a strip of masking tape for each PADD and wrote on the tape in magic marker to label them. One PADD she labeled "Archaeological Data." The second PADD she labeled "Not Pertinent."

The third PADD she labeled "PORN" in large friendly letters and passed it toward Commander Dallas. "For your professional opinion, once we've got more data," T'Ashaya added.

Heloi stared at the writing on the page for what seemed like the hundredth time. Though...she squinted at the entry and realized that it wasn't in Federation Standard. Instead, it seemed to be a mixture of Standard and something else... "Shay, is this English?" she asked, handing the offending page to the Operations officer.

"Possibly," the Vulcan replied. "I'm not sure I can make out the handwriting. This bit could be ancient Vulcan Gothic." She passed the notebook to Commander Dallas. "Can you make this out?"

Karyn accepted the notebook and attempted to make out the handwriting. Most of the time they dealt with PADDs and computer text, so reading and writing free hand could prove challenging. It seemed the old saying about a doctor's handwriting was true. "I think it's something about a great discovery... It's almost like the flow of ideas was too fast for his pen. The problem is knowing whether we're truly on to something significant or we're just seeing the consequences of sleep deprivation."

Jasmine had to laugh, "I'm leaning towards an answer of 'yes' to both of those comments. This guy makes the Absent-minded Professor look anything but. I'll try sorting through the rest of the notebook - it looks like the rest is drawings with notes interspersed so hopefully it won't be as...well...hard to decipher."

T'Ashaya, reading at Vulcan rates, had already sorted through the contents of a good twenty PADDs, pausing only to aim a device toward of the appropriately labled others. This time, she aimed the PADD and looked disgusted.

"I'd suggest adding 'in desperate need of getting laid' to your list of possible problems, Jazz," the Vulcan added, sounding very human for a moment. "Perhaps his handwriting is so poor because he's got a permanent cramp from all the wanking he's been doing." The operations officer pulled out masking tape and labeled the PADD she held 'More Porn' before setting it with the others. "Either that, or he has a serious virus on his system that's downloading this crap from Fed-Net."

Karyn's jaw hit the floor and she turned to T'Ashya in surprise. She had not become acquainted with the Vulcan Operations Officer and had expected her behavior to conform to the other Vulcans she knew. I'd respectfully request that we leave the discussion of...wanking behind. I had plenty of poor mental images before I came here, thank you. I am a counselor after all." Dallas was speaking in good humor.

She returned to the piles of PADDS and papers. "Maybe we're taking the eccentricity for granted. Maybe the important stuff is buried in a computer somewhere."

"You think Jericho's advanced enough to use a computer?" Jasmine joked. "I suspect we'd find a computer or at least some sort of storage device in the main tent."

T'Ashaya pulled an odd looking device from amidst a bunch of clutter. She held it distastefully away from her, using a stray piece of paper to prevent her hand from actually touching it. It was an odd something, approximately 3/4 of a meter in length, something vaguely shaped like male human genetalia, only precisely Andorian blue in color and possessing two "business" ends. "This," she stated with a tone that could not be mistaken for anything other than disgusted California beach bunny, "is so not a storage device."

She tossed it into the nearest waste receptical, which happened to be the one for "empty PADDs." "I'm totally geeked out here," she stated. "This is so wrong. No surf. No logic. Just wrongness everywhere. I'm going to go check out the temple, Jazz. You and the councilor are better equipped to deal with this than I am. Watch out for sticky spots."

The Vulcan took a long, deep breath, like a wave crashing upon the shore, and walked out of the tent.

Jasmine shook her head and returned her attention to the notebook. There was something...she squinted at the writing and raised her eyebrows in shock, "I found something. Counselor, take a look at this." The Betazoid stood and showed the page to the Commander, "It looks like they found some sort of inner chamber that only held a statue. Shortly after finding that chamber, the disappearances started." She flipped ahead several pages before pointing out the first disappearance, "The first one to disappear was a Dr. Kathryn Langford. What if they activated something in that chamber? Something that either took exception to the archaeologist's digging or to the fact that they weren't Hydrans."

"Anything is possible," Karyn replied, thinking of all the crap they'd found thus far. "I doubt we're going to find anything of value here. Why don't we check out the temple and see if we can find that chamber?"

"Sounds like a plan. This place just needs be torched rather than organized," the Betazoid looked about the tent with an expression of distaste, "Let's head to that chamber." With those words, the Science Chief led the way out of the disaster set and out into the 'dry heat' of the Mirusan day. Hopefully the temple would be more enlightening than Jericho's tent was. After all, one could only hope.

"Going Down, Part I"

ALPHA TEAM:
Cdr. Cassius Henderson
1Lt. T'Shani a'Akledorian
Ens. Linda Patch
MrSgt. Carl Johnson (APC: MJ)
Pvt. Elizabeth Salazaar (NPC)
G'Iv K'Vos'Toj (NPC)

BRAVO TEAM:
2Lt. Branwen London
2Lt. Jebidiah Baile
Ambassador Turan Trelar
Lt. Klaus Fienberg
GnySgt. Pete Stacker (NPC)
G'Iv A'Vab'Brak (NPC)

DELTA TEAM:
Cdr. James Corgan & Mika sh'Shonora
Lt. JG Cora Dobyrin
Ens. G'Bat'ea
Pvt. Alliya Yhwalyan (SPC: Dru)
G'Iv Z'Jgk'Thur (NPC)

GAMMA TEAM
(ARCs by Wil):
2Lt. Greg Ward (APC: Wil)
Cpl. Richard Simmons (NPC)
LncCpl. Grace Waldron (NPC)
PFC Leonard Church (NPC)
PFC Franklin Donut (NPC)

ECHO TEAM:
"Ambassador" Streely & LtCdr. Raven Darkstar
Lt. JG Claire Barnes
Attache Nyssa Alverez
Sgt. Adrian Mendoza (SPC: Cami)
G'Iv Q'Fth'Nov (NPC)

== Basecamp: Mirusa VI Dig Site ==

< Immediately following "Planetside, Part II" >

Tish marched out of the domed structure that served as the dig team's (and now, the Imperial Guard/Starfleet) joint command post, infuriated by the comments the Qasar had thrown at her as she had exited. Instead of rising to his bait, she simply vowed to get this over with, get back to the Galaxy, and resolve her issues with either (a) Cassius, or (b) Rex.

Instead of dwelling on the galaxy-wide known fact of male stupidity, she decided it best to get the teams divided up, and moved out. The sooner they found Jericho and his team, the sooner they could get off of this forsaken desert rock. ~What a waste of a planet for my first command on maneuvers,~ she thought as she fished around in her suit's pocket. Pulling out a small, durahard-covered case, she opened it and slipped the enclosed blue-tinted sunglasses over her face. Much better.

"Cassius, wait up!" she called from behind him. He was already halfway to the Furies' staging grounds.

"Yeah?" Cass asked, turning to face T'Shani. He too had donned a pair of dark sunglasses. This place was a wasteland, and he could almost see the skin of the researchers turning to leather in the sun. "What's up?"

"Look, they know something; something's not right, Cass. I think we should keep a team here. They can go over some of Jericho's vids, maybe see if they can piece anything together," she leaned in toward him, lowering her voice, "And keep an eye on the esteemed Qasar."

"That sounds like a singularly good idea. I have Lieutenant Heloi's science teams going over Jericho's files," Cass replied. "I'll have her keep an eye on our good friend, the Qasar."

"Good, then I'll have a team assembled. You sure about coming down there with us? I thought you'd rather teach Than how to three-step?"

"Very funny, Tish," he shrugged. "If I'm going to be trapped on this hellish world, I'd rather do something more interesting than beat a worthless Hydran. That's more security's thing."

Tish smirked, while cocking her left antenna, "Very well. I'll see you at the assembly area," she replied while turning away. She noticed that Second Lieutenant Ward was walking up to her. Before she could ask him what he had come to her for, he was already speaking. She had noticed that about him: he usually had to get his word in first. Sighing to herself, she flinched a little as he clapped his hand over her shoulder.

"You probably haven't heard this yet, Lieutenant. But you are a good and very capable officer, Lieutenant. Plus the fact that you are attractive and intelligent isn't bad either," Greg said, then gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then he walked off to where Stacker was now standing with Church.

Tish just stood there for a moment, frozen in awe. She couldn't believe what Greg had just said...but appreciated it, nonetheless. "Lieutenant Ward, wait," she called out, trying to keep her voice even.

Greg had just slipped a pair of sunglasses--in the style of the old Terran 20th century USAF--onto his face and he was adjusting the sling of his M7 Compression Phaser PDW when he turned to face the younger woman.

Church stood up from where he was kneeling in the sand, cradling his sniper rifle with the barrel pointing at the ground.

"Look, I-" she paused, trying to keep her demeanor calm. Thank Thori for the shaded glasses: they kept her from having to meet his eyes directly. "Walk with me, Lieutenant," she ordered, then proceeded to move to the staging area.

"Yes ma'am." was all that Greg said to Tish, before he nodded to Church who nodded back and then started speaking with Stacker as Caboose came walking up. Greg started to follow the younger woman, easily matching her long, gaited pace.

"What is on your mind, ma'am?" Greg asked casually, he had a strange feeling that it was going to be about the Hydrans and not his "comment" from a few moments ago.

"I don't think the Hydran's are here to go on a friendly spelunking exercise with us. Something's not right, and I know that the Qasar's up to something." She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him.

Greg stopped and tilted his head to the left for a second as if in thought before replying with, "What do you require, Tish? A little off-the-record recon, if you will?"

"How good are your ARC's?"

Greg got a kind of boyish smile on his face, "The ARC's are trained to do what ever it takes to get the job done. But where other branches do it loudly, ARCs prefer to do it quietly...if you understand," he said as the boyish smile not leaving his face, though his tone was slightly serious.

Tish bobbed her antennas in thought, before replying. "Assemble your team, covertly. Go in ASAP, with minimum detections. There may be an extra contingent of Imperial Guard down there. Than said something offhand about finding an 'Entrance'. I want your team to find out what they're after, understood?"

Greg didn't say a word to her but he quickly tapped the tac-comm that was mounted in his right ear. "This is Ward, Code Grey Six. Meet at Grid six by twelve in thirty seconds, that includes you Donut." was all that he said before he saluted Tish and said, "If you'll excuse me ma'am?" as the boyish smile returned to his face.

"Get to it, Mister," she said saluting as he did so. She watched him turn to assemble his team, wondering about her own feelings, again.

Shaking it off, she moved into the Furies' staging area, taking in everything going on. All four drop ships were on the ground, their crews busy unloading search equipment and personnel. Near the Herugrim, Tish saw that a couple Marines--Stacker and Mendoza--were busy setting up a field transporter and booster relays, with London overseeing. A moment later, the trio stepped back, and activated the device. A second after that, Tish could hear the familiar hum of the transporter sequence.

As soon as the blue glow was gone Klaus immediately started walking around. He was currently the only medical officer on the surface short of any Marine medics, but they mostly kept to themselves in "Marine Country's" medical ward. He looked around him, seeing Branwen and the others on his team. He was the highest ranking officer in the group apparently.

"Well, friends, we should probably started," Klaus deadpanned.

Claire arrived moments later in a full Marine tactical suit with a few little mods. She had her Japanese katana strapped to her back in a scabbard, and in her arms was one of the M-90 Tactical Assault Rifles. She was also wearing one of the Tactical Eye Display Device's, which allowed unparalleled targeting and sighting capabilities. She had also brought a small canvas bag of stuff too, but none of it was weaponry. She brought up the local surroundings on her arm-pad, noting everyone as they came in.

G'Bat'ea stood next to her on the portable transporter pad, his bulky frame restrained in a simple tactical suit, common for this type of mission but his first encounter with such a thing. On Cardassia and in previous missions it had been a case of either cold or warm weather gear or a plain uniform.

As he stepped down from the pad, the oppressive heat hit; it was somewhat uncomfortable for someone used to Starship environmental systems, but he would adapt.

Turan took another piece of equipment and stepped down the Herugrim's ramp into the bleeding bright sunlight that didn't made the breathtaking hot planet surface look more inviting.

As far as his eyes could reach, there was nothing else than sand, dust, a few rocks and, of course, the entrance to the temple that 'Gunny' had mentioned. The Quentite dropped his payload and hurried to get back into the drop ship's cool belly.

The planet's surface welcomed the occupants of Glamdring with a blast of magthrust-heated air. The hatch of the vessel slid open with a metallic rattle and a hum of motors.

James Corgan's first touch of Mirusa VI soil brought about a wince to his eye, as the alien dust stung and offended him, the sun's rays held back by the activated auto-tint of his glasses, turning pitch black as it cranked to maximum blockage.

Corgan never liked touching down on planets, preferring to stay in the confines of space and ships that he has known so well throughout his life. But as of late, due to domestic troubles and the overwhelming demands of his new change in rank, he was glad to be away from the Galaxy, much less *his* Galaxy. On a backwater like this planet, it was as far away from the Galaxy as he could possibly get.

He came in with only basic gear. A tactical tricorder, a type two phaser, a type one on his ankle holster, and a field jacket with minor supplies and a wrist light. Full battle gear wasn't needed, lest he put

on an aggressive face for the Hydrans. This was to be a no-stress mission for him; even the commanding was left to the First Officer and 1st Lieutenant a'Akledorian. He was protection and extra labor--nothing more.

Unbeknownst to the Security Chief, the transporter beam disgorged from behind him a surprise guest. She looked upon the alien sun with a more upbeat attitude, glad to be away from the stresses of the ship, and closer to her paramour. She was the former representative of the Federation to an entire nation, and her expertise was needed in quelling any disagreements with the Hydrans--so she was told.

And if James didn't like it, Mikairu sh'Sonora would know where exactly the Galaxy's security chief could stick it. She adjusted her new communicator pin on serviceable civilian outdoor clothes and awaited the new challenge.

Alliya Yhwalyan's slight and slender figure emerged from the comparative darkness of the pelican drop ship. She came to a halt as her spit-polished boots touched the dry dirt ground.

In the shade created by the ship she took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the light and check her equipment. Slinging the M-25 tactical rifle over her shoulder she knelt down and systematically went through her kit. As well as the rifle she carried an MK-2 phaser pistol in a holster on her left hip. Those were the only Starfleet issued armaments she carried.

As a scout Alliya didn't carry much in the way of weapons, her specialties lie in her stealth and ability to track, observe and report locations of targets, but she was quite glad that this mission she had been able to acquire more weapons than she usually did, and they weren't Starfleet issue! She, like most of the galaxy had, by now, heard and seen the footage of the Hydran attack on the USS Galaxy, Miranda, Relentless and the 12th Fleet. Let's just say the more fire power she could pack onto her small figure the better!

Patting herself down to make sure she had everything, smiling inside as she noted the survival knife, her brother had given to her, tucked away in her boot, along with an old style compass, another family gift; this one from her father, and an extra map, ya know just in case!...and several other Starfleet issued gadgets like long range, zoom in binoculars, night vision goggles and a plethora of other gizmos. But at the end of the day Alliya didn't rely on gadgets, she relied on the only one sure thing: herself.

<To Be Continued...>

OOC NOTE: Former "BASE TEAM" Members, you're objective has changed! Take note below! -- MJ

"Going Down, Part II"

ALPHA TEAM:
Cdr. Cassius Henderson
1Lt. T'Shani a'Akledorian
Ens. Linda Patch
MrSgt. Carl Johnson (APC: MJ)
Pvt. Elizabeth Salazaar (NPC)
G'Iv K'Vos'Toj (NPC)

BRAVO TEAM:
2Lt. Branwen London
2Lt. Jebidiah Baile
Ambassador Turan Trelar
Lt. Klaus Fienberg
GnySgt. Pete Stacker (NPC)
G'Iv A'Vab'Brak (NPC)

DELTA TEAM:
Cdr. James Corgan & Mika sh'Shonora
Lt. JG Cora Dobyrin
Ens. G'Bat'ea
Pvt. Alliya Yhwalyan (SPC: Dru)
G'Iv Z'Jgk'Thur (NPC)

GAMMA TEAM
(ARCs by Wil):
2Lt. Greg Ward (APC: Wil)
Cpl. Richard Simmons (NPC)
LncCpl. Grace Waldron (NPC)
PFC Leonard Church (NPC)
PFC Franklin Donut (NPC)

ECHO TEAM:
"Ambassador" Streely & LtCdr. Raven Darkstar
Lt. JG Claire Barnes
Attache Nyssa Alverez
Sgt. Adrian Mendoza (SPC: Cami)
G'Iv Q'Fth'Nov (NPC)

== Basecamp: Mirusa VI Dig Site ==

< Continued from "...Part I" >

As the last of the Galaxy crew members beamed down, Tish moved to the front of the assembly, checking the load on her M-90 assault rifle.

"Here, Lieutenant," Johnson ambled up, handing T'Shani a vocaster. Pinning it to her chest, she activated it, then spoke.

"Search team, form up!"

Turan dropped the backpack, of which the straps he was trying to untangle. He joined the line next to the man anybody just called 'Gunny' and switched his Transcomm usually set to react after a five second delay to instant translation.

Klaus wandered up, standing cheerfully in line. Tish was always so sunny and fresh, so it wasn't that big of a deal.

James formed up with the rest of his team. One he recognized, but had only a passing knowledge of, and that was Lt. Dobyrin. The Naussican to his right was a new addition he had yet to meet, but looked to be a tough and grizzled individual. The marine Private--James didn't know but cared for less--she would have to prove herself.

Then there was a petite, blue-skinned Andorian to his right...and since James saw Tish at the front, he only knew one other...

"Mika?!" James piped to object, shocked to see that his girlfriend, and a civilian no less, was right beside him on the mission!

Mika responded with aplomb, "Shush, baby. She's starting."

Pvt. Alliya Yhwalyan was still in the Pelican drop ship when the order to form up resounded from her built in communicator. Slowly she stepped out into the oppressive heat to join the others. Alliya wasn't stifled by the heat; she had read up on the mission and the planets atmosphere and prepared her self accordingly, in a way that most wouldn't.

She had managed to steal some time away in the holodeck and used several programs, like Cardassian steam rooms and Vulcan planet side programs to prepare her for the heat. The temperature in her quarters were set on maximum, well over the temperature here, and she had also taken extremely hot baths. She hadn't had long to prepare but so far her forward planning was working.

This was her first mission and she knew that she was going to be watched closely. She didn't mind that much, hell they could stare at her arse all day, as long as they didn't get in her way there would be no problems. She wasn't the nervous type, not like some.. she looked up as a human female passed her; Alliya could almost smell the woman's fear and anxiety. In fact, Alliya noted as she glanced around the camp, several people were worried about this mission, some more than others.

As she joined the line up she scanned the faces of the other officers, she didn't know a single one! But that didn't bother the young Betazoid. Standing to full attention she kept her eyes and ears open, scanning the terrain, as first Lieutenant T'Shani A'Akledorian continued to bark out her orders.

Her voice now ringing clearly to everyone's built-in communicators, Tish continued, "Our objective is simple and straightforward, enough so that even a Starfighter couldn't fuck it up," she joked, drawing a few laughs from the crowd.

"Get in, find Jericho's team, get out. Let's keep it that way. No side trips, no junior archeology. This isn't a fourth-grade field trip, ladies and gentlemen."

G'Bat'ea rolled his eyes and shook his head, the new braids dropping around his shoulders. Typical marine analogies and attitudes, it was no wonder there was a clear cut disregard for them among those in the Federation naval ranks.

"Unfortunate. I will try not to deviate too much," Klaus smirked. He knew this would annoy T'shani to no end.

But a memory of previous archaeological experience rushed back. It never happened, but what happened in the memory wasn't pleasant, especially the fall. Klaus' rear end ached. "On second thought, this is likely for the best."

Tish continued, ignoring Klaus's underhand remarks, "Maintain radio contact at all times. Each team will be given a set of booster relays," she held up one such device--a small silver disk the size of her thumb, and about as thick--turning it in her fingers. "Use them as you need them. If for any reason you get cut off, then backtrack to where you can re-establish communications, or get out completely. I will *not* have any of you getting lost, as well."

"You all should have copies of Jericho's team's dossiers on your tactical padds-" she held up her left wrist, indicating the touchscreen device built into her suit's forearm, "as well as a map of the complex, as far as it has been mapped. The computer will automatically update as you move into the structure. Also, don't forget that an upgraded, tactical-class tricorder is integrated into this thing.

"When you find a team member, get them back to the surface immediately. In addition to the booster relays, you will have five transporter lock transponders, which will boost their signal to here-" she pointed behind her to the transporter pad that some of them had come down on, "-to be relayed back the Galaxy, itself."

"Each team is going to be accompanied by an Imperial Guard. Treat them with respect, but remember that your team commander is in charge of your team."

Turan glanced at one of the strange looking tri-pedestrials. He felt as if one of the guard eyes was touching himself. Probably for the guard, *he* looked as much strange as the guard for him. There wasn't much about Hydrans in the school e-books he found in the Galaxy's computer. Turan smiled. At least there shouldn't have been much about Quentites in *their* computer.

"Lastly," her voice lowered a little, "The rules of engagement are such: engage if engaged with equal but not excessive force. Return fire only if fired upon. Seek escape before battle. This isn't a war field, and we don't need another interstellar incident with the Hydran Sovereignty, as I'm sure you're *all* aware," she deadpanned, referring to the leak of information to FNS regarding what was now being called by the media "The Havras Incident".

"Questions, anybody?"

"Yeah, I have one." James Corgan spoke up, a semi serious tone with a hint of sarcasm. "Will we be hearing the after-mission report in Ambassador Streely's tabloid?" He then watched as the laughter popped and burst like spores among the group, with the exception of the offended.

Tish suppressed a chuckle at Corgan's comment, well aware of 'Ambassador' Streely's penchant for overstatement. Briefly, she eyed Mika, bobbing her antennas in acknowledgment.

"Good, Johnson?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" the dark-skinned Marine beside her responded crisply.

"Assemble the teams, and then dismiss them for maneuvers," she ordered simply.

"Yes, Ma'am!" he responded again, then took a pace forward. Without looking down to his tactical padd, he called off the roster.

"Echo Team: Streely, Darkstar, Barnes, Alverez, Mendoza!" he called out.

When no one moved, he barked in his best drill-instructor voice, "Move like you've got some legs under your asses, people! Assemble your team to the side! You will be tasked with the small dig site to the East. Get in, see what you can find."

Claire nodded, used to dealing with Marines before. Stepping over to the side, she started linking her tricorder and tac padd in to give a distance reading for her other team-mates.

The tone didn't bother Mendoza at all. He was a marine so used to that kind of thing. In fact he was already on the move to join the rest of the Base Team when that order came.

"Delta! Corgan, sh'Shonora, Dobyrin, G'Bat'ea, Yhwalyan; you will search the southern tunnels."

Alliya Yhwalyan nodded as her name was shouted. She waited a moment until the commanding officer of Delta stepped forward and beckoned for his troops to follow. Unlike the rest of them she had to learn everyone by sight *and* name. Luckily for her she had a good memory.

"Sir!" Corgan snappily answered Johnson. He waved his hand to beckon his team members: "Deltas, fall in!" he commanded, more symbolically than anything else. Mika and G'Bat'ea were already flanking the security chief. Mustering Delta team was easy.

G'Bat'ea sought out the others moving to one side of the group and Joined them. He was with the security chief, that was a good thing he was sure, but then there were some rumors circulating about his stability. And for a social outsider like G'Bat'ea to have heard them it certainly meant that there was a good chance they were based in fact.

James spent an uneasy glance towards Mika, unsure what to do with her now that she was available. As a civilian she was unarmed and useless. As a diplomat she was invaluable. His reaction to her presence was reassuring, but also a worry, being yet another person (and one close to him no less) to protect. The inevitable conflict of interest, lover and commander, was going to cause serious problems.

"Why are you here?" James whispered off hand.

Mika replied smoothly, "By request. I know 17 languages, and one of them is fluent Hydran. I know first contact and diplomatic procedures better than anyone on board, and I had no class to teach today. What else was I to do with you gone?"

James sighed, relenting the field to Mika...for now, "You know the risks then."

She nodded, "Missing personnel, representatives of a hostile power within arm's reach, and I have no real rank or power. I know all too well. But I am not unprepared."

"And how is that?" James asked.

"Words are weapons to, Dear James. Both shield and sword. You may need me just yet. And if the situation turns dire and hostile...I am a trained martial artist in the Andorian Southern Style Sand Scorpion hand-to-hand technique."

James harrumphed. "That, I know."

Then she added shockingly, "Not only that...I have a licensed diplomat- issue Gauss Needler strapped on the inside of my garter belt."

James was about to open his mouth to object, but could only let out a slight squealing sound as Mika joined the rest of the team. "But...weapon...Mika..."

Cora was dressed appropriately to handle an unknown situation. Quickly She joined up with Delta team. It would be a good chance to gain first-hand Intelligence from the ground.

Alliya walked slowly over to her team mates. Taking her time to familiarize herself with each of them, making mental notes on their appearance. Two humans, one female and one male; the commanding officer by the looks of things plus an Andorian female and what appeared to be a male Nausicaan! She nodded curtly in greeting as she came up and stopped before them.

"Bravo! Baile, London, Trelar, Fienberg, Stacker; you will take the northern tunnels."

~Bloody hell,~ Branwen thought. ~She has put me in the same team with Baile.~ Another test probably, not one that Bran was very happy with. She could do without having to prove herself every minute of the day.

"All right!" She said outright. "Bravo team to me. Let's get ready to Move out!"

Turan followed "Gunny", who joined with the three other team mates. Baile and London were unknown to him, obviously soldiers, he guessed from their uniforms. Fienberg, he remembered, was the doctor he handed over the data crystal containing his medical file.

Baile got up on his feet, looking like he felt. Bored. He had a very distinct feeling the Hydrans would try shove something up their asses, but until then this would be an ordinary chicken-run. "Ladies...as we head in, place the Bouncers every twenty feet starting one hundred feet from entry point."

He turned to Branwen. "Lieutenant--with your permission--I'd like to go in first." That was what he did better than anyone: Point. If there was something in there he'd find it and hopefully he'd find the answer to another question and if that was the way he suspected then it was time to accept an offer as soon as he got back to the Galaxy.

Branwen thought for a split-second. And in that split-second a lot went through her mind. She shouldn't let him takeover again, and yet he was best-suited for the position.

"Yes, Lieutenant." She turned around. "Stacker, you bring up the rear. Vab'Brak behind Baile. The rest of us in the middle." She would protect the Navy people.

Klaus had no intention of being defenseless, and he'd gotten a few good looks at the tactical armor that the Marines and Security personnel were clad in. They reminded him of the old tactical EVO suit's he'd worn during the war, tactical padd and all.

"I should have requested one of those suits, no doubt I'm still qualified...I think."

Johnson called out the last team: "Alpha Team! Henderson, T'Shani, Patch, Salazaar and *myself* will search the main chamber and it's associated tunnels."

All the teams had assembled themselves--sans Greg Ward's ARCs, who had already disappeared into the temple entrance. Luckily, none of the Hydrans had seemed to notice their absence, but each team had the info on their tac-padds.

"We meet back here in 24 Standard hours, no exceptions, people. Dismissed!" he barked, then turned back to Tish, Cassius, and the rest of Alpha Team. Reaching into his TacSuit's front vest pocket, he extracted a semi-thick metallic hinged case. Pressing the release, he flipped the lid up to reveal...

"Now I don't give a shit if you smoke 'em or not. If you don't then just hold the thing, and give it back to me when we're done. But if you do, *don't* light it up until *after* the Fat Lady's sung, got it?" he eyed each of his teammates.

Tish couldn't help but smile, amused at Johson's proffered cigars. She'd never smoked before in her life, but realized that this was one of the Master Sergeant's own rituals, so she respected it and tucked the brown-wrapped cigar into her own vest pocket.

As Alpha team's NCO handed out cigars Alliya Yhwalyan couldn't help but take notice, she even leaned slightly towards them. At that moment she wished she was on his team. She would have enjoyed a victory smoke, and Cubans no less! If she could just feel the texture between her fingers, run the cigar under her nose, savoring the smell, cherishing it, slip it in her breast pocket, just knowing it was there would get her through the mission faster than lightening. her lips pursed over the imagery.

That guy looked like he knew how to handle himself; obviously a hardened marine, he had his pre-battle ritual and everything. She turned back to her own team leader and eyeballed him; this bloke looked like a pen pushing, paper shoveler! He would probably offer them a spot of tea after the mission and a scone! Alliya's lip curled as she shuddered at the thought.

"Ok..Uh..Bravo Team, who is our assigned leader again?" Klaus was confused as hell, but not much could go wrong at this point. Not yet, at least.

Gunnery Sergeant Pete Stacker tapped Fienberg hard on the shoulder, and said in precise fashion, "Sir! Second Lieutenant London is leading Bravo, Sir!"

"Of course, Marine, Thank you. Ok Bravo team, if I address you....try to stay out of trouble. It's been a few years since I've served as a combat medic." Klaus smirked in a wily manner. "Well, Branwen. I am ready for the task at hand."

Turan took his backpack and untangled the straps. Probably he was the one with the most experience in exploring caverns. But for now, that didn't count. On the Galaxy, found himself out of any command chain. The Quentite giant decided to keep his team lead out of trouble from an advisory position and to have an eye on the Hydran G'Iv he over-towered by several inches.

"All right, let's go!" Tish yelled out, then led the way down to the temple entrance.

Claire watched as the teams moved out and she nodded to Raven, who she knew would make sure Leo didn't do anything stupid. She hoped she wouldn't have to belt the Ambassador at all.

So there they were, the chief of Security, the chief of intelligence, a seasoned tactical officer, some woman he did not know and a female Marine. It could be worse, G'Bat'ea thought, but it could be so much better.

"Alright. I Do hope we have a good day." Klaus quickly rifled through his equipment. "It's times like these I wish they had a better set up for combat medics. Deploying medical equipment can be too slow for modern combat situations..." Klaus started mumbling to himself, including something about a "TacSuit Medical pattern." He finally got out his tricorder and returned to attentiveness.

"Your Time Has Come"

Starring: Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Commander Kedr'ni'van,
Commanding Officer, Hammer of Progress

Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor
Commanding Officer-Incumbent Deep Space Five

*Written while being inundated with the latest Audioslave CD blaring through the headset, hence, the title.

****** Deck 8 VIP Guest Quarters Lounge ******

"You present a fine argument, Captain, but we will not budge. You have 48 of your hours to remove yourself from the planet."

The Hydran Commander, his girth more massive than the other tri-pedal species in the Federation, such as the Triexians, had chosen to stand as no accommodations could be made on such short notice to give them equal stature at the seating table. So instead, the delegations had all agreed to stand instead through the delicate negotiations.

"Commander, you have lost members of your Imperial Guard, yes?" Captain M'Kantu, the African commanding officer of the USS Galaxy for the last two years, held a cup of his ever-present tea in one hand, the saucer to which it was attached in the other.

"They have not been lost, Captain." The buzzard stalks of the aliens' eyes squirreled around the room. It reminded one of the random motions of the Terran jellyfish as it fought to regain its position in the rising tide. Kedr'ni'van shifted two of his taloned feet, digging up a fray track in the carpet with one. "Hydrans do not lose their way, unlike some species. The gods in the temples will show them the way."

"Do you have proof the statues can speak, Commander? Or maybe they can draw a map?" Olivia Proctor, against the wishes of Legate Curran and Captain M'Kantu, had decided to grace the presence of all with her person. She hovered several feet away from the Hydran delegation - Kedr'ni'van and a pair of his personal guard - with wine glass in hand.

"How dare you blasphemy our gods!" A low grumble could be heard rolling through the tense atmosphere of the Lounge, the planet's dark ecru surface peering through the exosphere reflected by the corona as the Mirusan suns peered over the horizon taking up 60% of the viewing area of the grand portals beyond to the cold depths of space. The Hydran carrier hung off to port and above in a higher orbit in a distinct advantage if battle was ever met. "I should kill you where you stand, female." His throaty vocals shook with barely self-contained anger.

"As if you could." 'Livia stared down the beast in a show of obvious arrogance and ill-conceived cockiness.

"Commander, Admiral, barbs and insults will not obtain results." Legate Curran, stepping up between the two thought he could feel the apprehension. Proctor obviously did not understand the situation through. Her misplaced confidence in the Galaxy and determination to trade weaponsfire did not help the situation at all.

"Why, Kylar, I never knew you were a poet. Maybe you could put on a show for me later?" The stout woman curled her lip in a very bad imitation of a genuine smile. Curran shot darts of blue ice at her in response. This time her smile did become a shadow of reality.

"Admiral," M'Kantu interjected, curling a baby finger under the saucer with the hand holding the cup so he could free his other to raise it in the universal sign of 'slow down' - chest level, palm out at a 45 degree angle, motioning it up and down - "the Legate has a valid point. We waste time arguing when we can be working together."

"Captain, how could you possibly intimate any sense of alliance with these... these vermin?" Kedr'ni'van slammed his enormous claws, blood-red tips extended, into the conference table, raking it as he tore up the carpet fibers on his way to rending the woman limb for limb.

"Captain! Do something about them! Can't you see how vile and murderous they are?" Proctor glanced left and right; security had taken up positions between her and the Hydran, whose own guards matched the Starfleet reds. All four had hands on weapons.

Curran gritted his teeth. Proctor was making things worse, as per usual.

"Admiral," He was careful not to touch her as he whispered in her ear, his back to the Hydrans. Her deep brown eyes were wild with emotion. At the same time as he headed her off at the pass, M'Kantu had done the same with the Hydran commander at his own risk.

"Leave. You're only making things worse. There's no need to engage in hostilities here. We have no backup. No magic fleet waiting to storm out of the sunset to save us. Remember the children and families on board this ship. Do you wish to put them at risk?"

On the other side, M'Kantu's far smaller form than the tri-limbed aliens blockaded Kedr'ni'van from advancing any further. Well, his guard anyhow. The Hydran commander was protected behind.

"Commander, I implore you to see the benefits of our working together on this venture. We can solve the mysteries together. Put aside our differences for the sanctity of resolution. Of peace."

"Captain M'Kantu, who is in command here? You, or your thin-skinned soft tn'plo'kan?" The dark-skinned Captain's brow furrowed at the failure of the universal translator to assign a proper definition of the word. He wasn't sure he wanted one, anyhow.

Proctor sneered at Curran. "This is a Starfleet vessel, Legate. They knew what they signed up for." She pushed him aside, his emaciated form not having recovered the loss of weight over the past year from his ailments.

"What did you just call me?" She sized him up and down, measuring him as a slab of meat in a butcher shop. "You'd probably make a nice purse."

"ENOUGH!" M'Kantu was visually shaking. His tea had spilled over and began to pool in one of the gouges made from Kedr'ni'van's foreclaws. He set it down lest he throw it.

"Admiral, leave! You are *not* in command of this ship and are only here as a courtesy. You've now been informed, therefore your presence is no longer required. Security, escort Admiral Proctor to her quarters immediately."

"Belay that." Proctor was seething, Kedr'ni'van was silent, his features unreadable, Curran was silent, evaluating the situation. Proctor was obvious, and he'd been preparing for this eventuality.

"Captain, if this tn'plo'kan does not leave my sight in the next ten cyclans, I will tear her heart out fast enough for her to see it with her own cowardly eyes before she died, my teeth tasting the gristle as she breathed her last." The triad took a simultaneous step forward to back the threat up.

Proctor gulped, trying not to show her fear.

"Nine... eight..."

"Do something about this, M'Kantu, or I will."

"Six... five..."

When she saw the Captain and Legate cross their arms in defiance, she took a step back towards the exit doors.

"Three... two..." Kedr'ni'van and his crew took another step forward.

"Fine. You win this battle, but rest assured, it will be reported. I will have my satisfaction, Captain."

As the doors closed behind the Admiral, Curran turned to the Hydran commander, who for all appearances had not relaxed. If Hydrans relax, that is.

"I apologize for the actions of the Admiral, Commander. Her ambitions reach further than her common sense. Please accept our deepest apologies."

M'Kantu nodded in compliance. "Rest assured, her ideals are not shared by the senior staff of this ship."

"I do not care about ideals, Captain! Your Federation has proven themselves cowards and warmongers with your Admirals flaunting their bravado, happy to escalate conflicts. You are weak, like schoolchildren bullies who shake at the first sign of being stood up to. We have no reason to trust you, not after Havras. Your only purpose now is to be exterminated, your worlds under rule being given the option to rule themselves without your so-called peaceful co-existence." He emphasized the last few words with sarcasm, finalizing it all with a spitting of saliva on M'Kantu's jacket. "Your false promises of protection will be and have been your undoing."

"Commander-" Curran may not support the Federation ideals in its current stance, but the justification tirade was a bit much. The Hydrans were promoting complete anarchy. Humanoid psyches would not allow so many worlds unable to defend themselves to become isolationist. There were always conquerors.

"No, Legate, no need." He raised his palm, not acknowledging the spittle slowly oozing down his jacket.

"This planet is in Federation territory, regardless of your claims. The treaty lines and territorial rights have already been signed in our name. There is no government on this world to claim secession, therefore you cannot claim it without going through the proper channels."

"We do not recognize the Federation. Laws made with your government mean nothing to us. You will leave."

"It makes no difference what you believe, Kedr'ni'van. Your government has agreed to the arrangement and been documented, when they acknowledged the Federation's legitimacy well over a hundred years ago, and during Operation Unity." Curran had to swallow bile and pride. Operation Unity was an alliance of the Alpha Quadrant powers including the Hydrans in defeating an invasion force of his own people in 2310. It pained him to see his people now reduced to a single planetary system in Federation space. It irritated him to no end that they took pity on his people instead of letting them die in honorable combat. If only they'd ended up in Klingon space instead.

"Havras destroyed that, softs. You betrayed us! You have 48 of your hours. No negotiation!" As if to punctuate the final word, he touched a component on his wristpad, the trio of Hydrans shimmering out in a transporter swirl.

"Captain, I believe Admiral Proctor is going to institute a command coup under the auspices of General Order 8. Her strategies are painfully obvious."

"Then I suppose my fate is in your hands, isn't it? She needs you and Commander O'Shea, being the highest ranking officer left on board, to authorize the change, unless she invokes General Order 5, putting you in command of the ship. That would be ironic, indeed, knowing her feelings for your offices. No, I don't think she'll be too determined to push that agenda."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Captain. Her only ambition is to prove herself a worthy tactician in battle. She thinks she can defeat the Hydran carrier. Maybe have herself re-assigned to a worthy position more respectful of her skills in response to a solid victory."

Daren shook his head, dabbing the saliva off his jacket with a kerchief he'd replicated while in discussion with Curran.

"The Hydrans like to do things in threes. Looks like they've succeeded in that endeavour here. I have to worry about the away teams on the surface, the carrier in orbit, and my command, hm?"

"I shall do my best to eliminate her confidence in tactics, Captain. I'm due for a game of strategema within the hour. I believe it is time to show her the error of her ways."

"Don't embarrass her, Legate. It'll only reinforce her desire to prove herself. Just make the games more... difficult. A draw here, a win there... if you understand my meaning."

Curran nodded. "Completely. Shake her confidence." He tipped his head slightly, backing out to leave the Captain to his thoughts.

M'Kantu replicated another cup of herbal tea for himself, a new jacket forming up right behind it. Taking both, he strolled to the port window overlooking the planet and the Hydran carrier.

"Well, Daren," he set his cup down as he changed jackets. "Your time has come. Will it be the guile of the hawk, or the enigmatic dove that wins today?"

"The Practical"

FO Teyri "Rock Star" Jen
Maj. Corran "Spots" Rex

*****

The newly christened 'Rock Star' adjusted her comm, making sure that it was resting comfortably against her ear. She needed to be able to both hear and speak clearly, with no problems. Not quite so important now, when they were just training, but she had to get into the habit of checking all of her flight gear and establishing routines as if every time she left the flight deck in her fighter, she would be ready for combat.

Whether combat was expected or not. One never knew these days.

She checked one more time around herself, making sure that the air was clear, and then, receiving takeoff clearance from Control, she lifted off, taking the Rogue out into space to put her through her paces.

Major Rex was her wing man for this, for safety reasons. Didn't make sense to go out without a wing man when there was a possibility of hostilities, and with the Hydrans on the planet below them - and the air above them - the atmosphere almost seethed with the possibility of conflict.

Teyri didn't want anything to go wrong, but she couldn't deny that it would be nice to actually have something to do. She knew it was a horrible thought, and she smacked herself on the hand as soon as she thought it, but there it was.

So far, Corran was more than pleased with his new Rogue. The fighters were a huge step beyond the Bonzai's Vanguard had had - still had, until they shipped them back to the New Texas Yards for refurbishment and reissue to a squadron that saw less line duty.

The different cockpit layout took some adjusting to, but the Trill had gotten the hang of it in fairly short order. They were now flying combat air patrol - standard procedure for the fighters when the ship was deployed somewhere with a hostile presence (namely, that Hydran Battlecruiser in parallel orbit). Corran and his temporary wingman - assigned the call ID of Vanguard Null until he made a decision on where to place her within the squadron - were taking the ventral run, positioned directly between Galaxy and the Hydran vessel.

Vanguards Eleven and Twelve took the dorsal run, making sure nothing small came in at the Galaxy-Class starship from above. These C.A.P. rotations were shorter than the usual, as he wanted all of his Vanguards to log a significant amount of flight time with their new ships.

Not to mention, he could see what 'Rock Star' was made of. Smiling slightly, he activated his wingmate comm frequency, and spoke directly to the new pilot. "Vanguard Leader to Vanguard Null. Time to show me what you've got, Pilot."

"So, what would you like to see, Vanguard Leader? Try me," she responded with a grin, even though she knew he couldn't see it. It was wonderful being out in a ship again. Three weeks was way too long to be grounded, even if it was voluntary. She probably could have gotten her ass out in the black a lot faster if she had reported in sooner, she reminded herself.

"Start with the basics, Null." he replied, moving his own craft into position behind her. "I'm on your tail, see to it that you get on mine." To give her a little added incentive, he locked his torpedo launchers onto her exhaust ports, something that would trigger a rather jarring klaxon in her cockpit.

"Will do," she replied. With that, she slammed the stick hard to port, veering off away from him. She knew it wasn't going to catch him by surprise; in fact, she didn't want to. She knew that as the Vanguard leader, he was going to be the biggest hotshot on the deck, and well as good on the stick. He was going to stick right behind her as long as he could, and Jen knew that he was going to "kill" her, unless she managed, by some fluke, to get him first.

She veered back, gaining speed, heading in a line straight for the Galaxy. Last she had checked, even minimal shields were down on the Galaxy, but she didn't want to test it. Starship shields could produce quite a kick if you brushed up against them. The automatic targeting of the tactical system could make your life hell, too, if you weren't careful.

She forced the issue as long as she could, and then snapped to starboard with a barrel roll, veering up and around in as tight a circle as she could manage. Vanguard Leader was right behind her, and she felt a grin pulling at her lips as she tried to kick her ass end down a little lower, get him in her sites.

She couldn't quite manage it before the circle was complete, and she pulled up, rolling and twisting to keep the back of her ship a quickly moving target.

As the other pilot slipped into another maneuver that would normally put her behind him - a quick loop, nominally unexpected after the wide turn she'd attempted before - Corran did something that might have been unexpected to her, but might not have. They'd been moving at speed before, and she'd broken that to slip behind him. Instead of trying to repeat her maneuver, he simply broke speed, allowing Teyri's own fighter to do the work for him. Angling his maneuvering thrusters dorsally, he also shot down on a ventral path - just enough for Vanguard Null to pass a few meters above his cockpit. Reversing their thrust, he shot back up, and locked his torpedo targeting system on her once again. "Good try, Null. Take another stab at it."

"Condition Yellow" Part I (Continuing the "Hot Rods" story) By

Lieutenant Commander Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer/SEC
Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Operations Officer
Lieutenant Jiiles, Engineering Officer
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Engineering Officer
Ensign Richard "Ringo" Langly, Engineering Officer
Senator Ramir Omar, Romulan Ambassador

::: Holodeck IV, USS Galaxy :::

It had been a few hours, Anna, Michael, Jiiles, Marc and Ringo had all been working in Holodeck IV on the new interface system. Anna was standing at one of the consoles tucking a strand of curls back up on her head. The way it hung down tickled her shoulders from where she'd pulled off her jacket. Just having her t-shirt on, she stood there taking a break, waiting on Michael to get back so they could finish the refit of the console. Once they're finished, they would be able to test the new upgrades, and hopefully, the tests would see if the buffer worked or not. Also, it'll see if the gel packs react to the energy as energy and not as a viral infection.

Sitting down at the station, she tapped the button and the touch interface opened and she began to work on the last connectors.

At that moment, Senator Ramir Omar was entering the turbolift.

Sometime during the past few months, he had lost contact with Anna O'Shea, who he had formerly been in a relationship with. This was for two reasons - firstly, he worried how she would feel after their disastrous trip to the Omar estate on Romulus. Secondly, Omar felt he was becoming too humanized - he was using human words and phrases more than Rihannusu ones, and his general attitude was changing, something which disturbed the senator greatly. As such, Omar now had no idea on what the status of their relationship currently was.

However, he had - with some reluctance - decided to remedy all this today.

"Computer," he said. "Locate Commander O'Shea."

"Lieutenant Commander O'Shea is in Holodeck IV," the familiar female monotone voice replied. Omar headed for the holodeck.

Now - several minutes later - the large holodeck doors slid open and Omar walked in. Spotting O'Shea immediately, he headed over to where she was working.

Jamson was working on replacing the isolinear chips with the new rods. It was getting on his nerves but at the same time, he found it interesting. The new rods were a remarkable technological achievement, faster than any isolinear chips or Cardassian rods he has ever seen before. Considerable larger storage capacity and 'light speed' rates of data transfer. And the gel packs? a marvel by themselves. Connecting between the neural gel circuitry, ODN and power distribution systems was a real challenge. He was using a polaron probe to affect the polarity of the small force fields protecting some of the power grids, and illuminated them as well for a spectral analysis.

Unlike the others, Michael didn't go over the data at lunch break. He preferred to enjoy himself with a nice Vulcan Mocha, which tasted like Terran coffee but had a greenish-brownish look. It was made of berries from the g'tet plant, a known bush which could be found everywhere in the 3 continents of Vulcan. Many didn't like it, simply because it's color and found it repulsive. The taste was excellent, not as strong as Terran coffee, but more gentle and soft. Vulcans taste for delicacies was well known around the galaxy, and many races have adopted their unique foods into their menus. The Vulcan taste had an emphasis on delicate and special soft flavors instead on strong and spicy foods. And one of the reasons was probably that Vulcans couldn't digest spicy foods.

Anna looked up when the doors opened and saw Ramir Omar enter the holodeck.

She about choked on her raktijeno when he paused there at the arch. ~This is not what I need right now.~ She thought and then glanced over at Marcus who was under a console working, or was he sleeping, he'd not moved in a bit.

Pushing her thoughts aside she looked back as Omar began to walk towards her.

Jiiles picked up the data padd he had been studying and began his walk back towards the holodeck, still chomping on his lunch as he walked back. O'Shea had given them all an hour lunch break, most of which he had spent looking back over the data on the neural gel packs. Something wasn't right there and he was still musing over the possibilities.

As the doors opened to holodeck IV Jiiles stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth and nodded curtly to Anna. Crossing the room he began to cross reference the data from his padd to the consoles.

Brianna saw Jilles come in behind Omar, whom she returned a nod to and watched as she he crossed the room and began to work not so far from where Michael was. Again, Anna turned her attention to the lanky form of the Romulan senator heading at her at a slow but steady space.

"Damn it!" Jamson aimed his engineering tricorder towards the gel packs, moving it around in motion. "It doesn't show any change...same status...I've been working on this for the last 2 hours!" he said in frustration. He's been checking the systems over and over, but none of his hard work showed any progress. Then it hit him "Does anyone has a medical tricorder?" he asked.

It wasn't until Michael cursed, did it shake Anna from her thoughts and stand up. Raising her hand to Omar, she turned toward Michael. "What do you suggest, cause we've got to get them working before we run the test runs on it?" Anna said.

"We need to examine the gel packs, using medical tricorders. Not Engineering extended....these are not regular gel packs that can be scanned with extended tricorders, viral infections and such can't be detected by those. I guess it's because they're type IV. It wouldn't work...". He said and moved to one of the engineering kits on the floor. He pulled out a replicator multi tool. It was the ultimate tool replicator, developed by using advanced holodeck and microfilter technology. Not wanting to disturb the holosuite's matter and interrupt some of it's already running processes, he decided to use the small amount of holographic matter in the small multi tool. Not mainly used on starships, since it's inability to withstand several types of radiation, this tool was a back up one for engineers. "Medical tricorder....TR-680, type III" Michael commanded the tool and pressed a few buttons. He chose the right image on the small side screen of the tool and directed it away from him, just above his second hand. Within 5 seconds, he had a fully working medical tricorder type III with the add-on peripheral. Why not type IV? The regular replicator multi tool couldn't create an object greater than 10 cm, or too big like torch welders, since it didn't have enough energy. For medical purposes, there was a special medical replicator tool which could create medical supplies and devices. Moving to O'Shea, he handed over the tricorder.

"Excellent.. get one for everyone. We'll began checking each pack at every station. Give me just a minute please, let me handle this.." Anna said, hoping Michael felt her plight with Ramir. Turning to the Romulan, she wondered if he should even be in her with this new technology or not.

Jiiles finished his updates with the computer and moved over to join Jamson at the station he was working at. He looked over the Medical tricorder and nodded in approval. They had been looking at this problem from a purely technical angle, what they had to realize is that, with the updates the materials they were working with weren't totally mechanical. They were organic. He paused for a while looking over Jamson's shoulder studying the man whilst he worked.

"What can I do for you Ramir?" Anna asked, as she stood there. She hoped this really didn't turn into a huge fight right here in front of everyone, especially Marcus, last thing she needed him joining in a fight because he didn't like something someone said about her.

"I just wanted to see how you were, Anna," he said uncertainly. "Apologies if I've interrupted anything critical, but we - or at least I - have been avoiding the subject of our relationship for a while. What's the deal here, Anna?" The senator waited for her to reply, realizing he had used yet another Terran expression at the end of his sentence.

Motioning over away from the others, there were times when Anna wouldn't care what others thought about her, but this wasn't one of them. Taking a deep breath she hated this, very much. Not only was this not a good time, how does one say, guess what, I moved on, I'm engaged, I'm going to get married, say, wanna come to the wedding? "I think the past two months for the both of us shows there isn't much or a relationship for us, Ramir. You've been doing your thing, I've done mine." She said, Anna was never good at this. She stood there stiff as a board, wishing there was a huge holographic rock she could crawl under. "I'm with someone else, someone that I've always loved. Truth is if there was a you and me relationship other then beyond friendship it would have drove you to hate me. I compare all men to him in some ways. He's asked me to marry him, I've said I will, Ramir." She said, wishing to god there was that rock here and now.

Jiiles glanced up from his work as he heard O'Shea talk of marriage. His eyes widened at the news. He didn't mean to stare but unfortunately this was not the place for such a conversation, not unless you wanted rumors to spread. Kneeling down on the floor he paused his scans and turned his head towards the pair, watching the Romulan's reaction.

"What?" Omar responded with shock and indignation. "Who? Tell me, who is this person?"

Jamson felt O'Shea's embarassment as she stood aside with this Romulan. He moved back to his work and resumed his duty, but kept a close eye on the surroundings. What was a Romulan, dressed in the Star Empire's clothing was doing on the holodeck? they were working on some pretty sensitive project, and it was inappropriate for a Romulan dignitary, as honorable as a Romulan could be, to snoop around. He wasn't wearing any markings that could be identified. Most of the Romulan Fleet and Empire could be identified by markings and symbols. He had no sash, ranks or uniforms to fit any of the fleets or ranks. The main Fleets Michael were aware of, were Command, Praetorian, Othan, Kassus and Tulan. Each had significant emblems and logos. The clothing seemed to describe one of the patrician houses of the Empire, and so he must had a place at the senate. There were 8 houses, 'maybe the house of Terik...' Michael tried to think. They've had strong ties within the military, maybe this is how he received permission to stay aboard the Galaxy. The only political coalition of the Romulan senate who supported the military and had most of the seats, were the Jardinan coalition. On the other hand, the one who was backed by the wealthiest families, was the Nej'ahar coalition. Jamson had no idea where the Terik family stood, or whether this guy had any ties with them. Never the less, this was unacceptable, and the cautious Lieutenant was about the interrupt this little talk. Romulans couldn't be trusted.

Jiiles stood up and put down the tricorder. He sighed audibly and looked over to Jamson. According to the scans the gel packs weren't responding as they had desired. "Lieutenant." Jiiles said as he approached Jamson. Passing him the padd Jiiles waited for him to read it before he began his explanations. "According to the preliminary tests the problem occurred when excess thermal radiation entered the gel packs. The gel packs can't handle it" as Jiiles alliterated what they already knew, Jamson nodded along.

"The levels of the excess thermal radiation are staggering..." Michael kept reading. "Even though, excess thermal radiation is eventually being circled and treated by the ship's radiators and coolant system, including the liquid sodium loops which suppose to convert some of it back into regular energy. Other systems aren't normally affected by it. That means that the packs are sensitive to thermal radiation...what do you have in mind?" Michael asked.

"In order to counteract the effects, we have to built buffers and containment insulations.." Jiiles brought up the information on the padd he had been working on at lunch, "now according to the simulations I ran with the buffers and containment insulations the gel packs should accept the energy. But they are not!" Jiiles sighed slightly and took up a leaning position against the console as Jamson skimmed through the information on the padd.

"It's just like we feared; the gel packs are not merging with the holographic sub systems matrix. And without that there is no way to conclude these tests! They need real power." Jiiles said looking down at Jamson, he felt slightly defeated. But he wasn't about to let this get the better of him. There was always a way. And he was sure they would find it. It was just frustrating. Picking up the tricorder he showed Jamson the readings confirming what he had just told him and then stared at them for a moment, if he stared for long enough the answer might just hit him in the face...He hoped!!

But what was not helping the situation was the fact that O'Shea was diverting her attention from this 'mission', in fact *her* mission, to talk to a Romulan! He had nothing against the senator except for the fact that the exchange between these two was not appropriate, and this was *supposed* to be a classified project! He shook his head. This sort of thing would never have happened if Suder was still here!

Grinding his teeth he averted his eyes from the pair and tried to focus his mind. But the senator's raised voice didn't help a bit!

"Don't matter who it is, Ramir. I love him. You and I wouldn't have worked, your father thinks I'm a spy." She said then sighed. Anna was about to say more, but Michael then chimed in.

"'Commander O'Shea, may I interrupt?" Jamson rose from his virtual working station. "There a matter that requires your attention".

To be continued....

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