"How to Recruit an Agent in 7 Simple Steps – Part VI, Sugar Daddy"

Principle Characters :

Ensign Nyoko Yuuri
Intelligence Officer / Lily Squad

Lieutenant Chun Lin
Junior member of Admiral Proctor's staff

Petty Officer Lysandra Stuart
Intelligence Analyst

Five hours after the Galaxy broke orbit from Mirusa and made haste toward DS5, Ten forward seemed to awaken to life and shed the gloomy blanket it was wrapped in not so long ago.

All of ten forward but one man, that is.

Chun Lin sat on the stool, bent over the semi-empty glass. From time to time, he shifted it, sending it in a slide from his left and to his right.

Absently, a lone thought ran through his mind.

I wish this was real alcohol.

As soon as things turned serious on the planet, Proctor dispatched him back to the ship, and Lieutenant Commander Hasmonian was beamed down to replace him. While he favored the comforts and safety of the Galaxy to the hot, Hydran-infested Mirusan desert, Proctor's lack of trust in him depressed him.

At this rate, he's going to remain a Lieutenant until his retirement, he mused.

Twenty minutes or so, two girls sat on the two stools to his left. They were giggling and chatting like… well, two girls in a bar. He dwelled so much on his own melancholic depression to pay attention to them, but eventually his ears did pick a sentence or two.

It was enough for him to realize that one of the girls called the other Nyoko.

"Excuse me, are you Nyoko Yuuri?", He asked the oriental-looking girl. She was of Japanese origins by her name and appearance. Aliens tended to mix between Chinese like him and Japanese, and even Humans did once in a while. He didn't mind it really, or at least tried to pretend that he was over the old Earth racial classification and prejudices.

"Hai!", She replied, beaming at him, "And my friend here is Lysandra. Are you going to invite us to a drink?"

"Two pretty girls like you, how can I refuse?", He answered, and commanded the bartender to replicate them three glasses of Loblub, a Bolian beverage which resembled a weak version of Sake to the tongue.

"Where do you know me from?", Nyoko asked, innocently.

Chun told her about his run-in with Saul on Mirusa. He hesitantly mentioned their common interest in subdermal cyber bracelets, and was surprised from her positive response.

"I always wanted one! But didn't dare to.", She glared at Lysandra, "You didn't hear that from me, girl!"

Lysandra rolled her eyes, and climbed down from the stool. "I'm in Intelligence, it's not the worst secret I've heard Nyoko. Anyway, DiMillo is waiting for me in CIC, so I'll see you two later."

Chun waited until Petty Officer Stuart was out of earshot. "I… I understood from Saul that you're an expert in… how should I phrase it…"

"Ah! You're this guy Saul told me about in his last message before the communications were off, right? From the Admiral's staff?"

Chun recoiled. "A little quieter, please Ensign Yuuri… "

"Nyoko, Nyoko.", She said, her tone lowered. "Yes, I'm an expert in what we call 'Internal politics'. Don't be surprised if I'll become the first department-leading Ensign on the Galaxy. But I wouldn't want to worry Saul that his seat is rocking, would I?"

Chun chuckled nervously. "So what is your opinion?"

* * * Starfleet Academy, 2402 * * *

"You're scaring the agent!", One of the cadets interjected with Nyoko's story. The other cadets, fascinating by the tale, glared at the cadet.

"Actually, I'm encouraging him.", Nyoko assured her. "Chun isn't insecure near women – he offered me and Lysandra a drink without a shred of shyness, mind you – but he is slightly insecure about his career, and he isn't a trusting man. As you recall, he experienced betrayal during his first month on the Academy. Ever since, he went with the assumption that everyone has an interest in using him or taking advantage of him. In the Admiral's staff, of course, that IS the truth."

"Sounds like a lost cause.", The cadet sighed. "So how did you persuade him to open up?"

"When you use a 'positive' method while recruiting an agent, I recommend that you make it worthwhile for him from the very start. Think of it as an advance-payment. In our case, I gave him something he hungered for ever since he was a freshman cadet."

The cadet, of course, took the bait, "And that thing is?"

"Revenge.", Nyoko said, the light from the words 'SUGAR DADDY' that loomed above her head casting shades on her face.

* * *

Nyoko listened to Chun's bickering about the internal politics for an hour or so. The stories he told were prices, and also convinced her that Saul was right about choosing Chun as the possible recruit. He was, most likely, the weakest link. Disgruntled, frustrated, and loyal only to himself.

"So far, I think that you focused on distinguishing yourself from the other, making you appear worthy in the eyes of Proctor. Problem is, she barely looked at you. She doesn't even know you."

Chun sneered. "Telling me I'm a failure won't help."

Nyoko shook her head. "All I'm saying is that you should take a different approach. Make yourself look better by making others look BAD."

Chun's expression was unreadable. "Go on.", He said impassively.

"Lieutenant Commander Hasmonian really screwed it on the planet, right? It came to the point where DiMillo from my department – Ensign DiMillo, mind you – took charge of the Starfleet detail in the scientific compound."

She leaned toward him, bringing her head close to his. "Now, if I were you, here's what I would do…"

"Tinkering Plans"

Lt Jg Claire Barnes, Security Officer/Hazard Team Member

Looking up from the table which she had sort of covered with sketches, Claire took a sip from the cordial in the glass at the edge.

One thing that she had kind of been thinking about for awhile was that the was no sort of short-range scouting device for the Galaxy's security forces. Sometimes on away teams, it would be nice to have something fast, mobile and aerial that could be controlled from a basecamp or fortified location.

Federation technology had small micro-gravity generators, small ion drives and the ability to transfer data from sensors across subspace in an encrypted manner. So why hadn't anyone put them all together?

So she had decided to plan one out. She tried to use stuff that might be likely to be availble in stock-standard spare parts that could be made in Engineering's industrial replicator, and use standard power systems.

For example, the micro-fusion thrusters from a quantum torpedo would provide plenty of mobility. In fact, most of the non-explosive components from a torp could do it. A standard tricorder hooked into the torpedo sensors would provide plenty of scouting abilities, along with a series of high-resolution EM recorder would allow the controller to interface through a subspace link for flight.

The existing head-unit for the TR-116 projectile rifle could be modified to provide a view of flight and she was sure that Engineering could mock up some control gloves.

Thinking for a moment, she wondered if they would be able to strip out a phaser rifle and put it in too.

Grining, she sketched some more plans before picking up all the sheets, carrying them with her.

"Battered and Bruised."

Ensign Le'on Khatowren, Security Officer

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

Deck 10 - Torpedo Control

Against his better judgment, Le'on had reholdstered his phaser and turned back to the main torpedo control screen after the crewmen gave him assurances that they wouldn't do anything.

This proved to be a big mistake.

Le'on's mission was to make sure that the control room stayed shut down so that hostilities would not erupt from an errant torpedo from being launched. He had succeeded in stopping the first from going out the tube, which would ultimately destroy the Hydran ship along with the Galaxy. After hitting the override button, which he wondered why the crewmen didn't do this in the first place, he then proceeded to shut down the whole room in accordance to the instructions that had been on his now destroyed PADD/Bobsled earlier.

The crewmen were muttering amongst themselves and then, thankfully after Le'on had finished his work, they launched themselves at the Caitian. Both dove headfirst at the control panel right when Le'on turned around. Both crashed into the master control panel and made grabs for Le'on, who was desperately trying to avoid their grab attempts.

The resulting fight, people would later say, could be heard out in the corridors.

Ultimately it was Le'on who ended up crawling out of the room. "Damn Humans..." he muttered to himself as he slumped up against the far wall from the door to the control room. He paused to catch his breath. He figured he'd have to go to sickbay eventually. From the ten deck bobsled run down the maintenance ducts, to the 100-yard corridor dash, to the humanoid hurdle, and then to the Torpedo Room Fight Night, the small Caitian was exhausted and hurt all over.

Another crewman came over to see him. He kneeled over and asked "Are you l-" he started.

Le'on cut him off by pointing at him and extending a single, razor-sharp claw at him. "If you say 'lost' like I am some terran housecat, I vill remove any ability you have to reproduce, da?" he snapped. The crewman wisely backed away and went off about his business.

Le'on took a deep breath and got to his feet and hoped that word would get around soon that there was a miniature Caitian onboard so that people would get used to the idea. His muscles and joints ached from the overexertion as he made his way to one of the accursed turbolifts. "ohhh..." he moaned as he cracked his back a bit. "I vonder if I can arrange a site-to-site transport to sickbay..." he muttered as he entered the lift.

"The Seven Hells of Andor"

Backpost(continuing from Condition yellow.)

By : Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison
Lt. Michael Jamson, Operations Officer
Ensign Richard "Ringo" Langly, Engineering Officer
Ensign Marcus A. Slayton, Engineering Officer
Ensign Rena Lanford, Medical Officer (NPC)
Lt. (Dr.) Stephen Westlake, Triage/Surgeon Specialist
Ens. Mirah Broch, Brikar Nurse

*Holodeck IV*

Outside the holodeck Lt Rand stood, his body twisted and contorted as he had his hand and half his shoulder inside the panel that held the door controls.

"Got it!" he announced as the door gave out a slight hissing noise as the pressure released.

Jin Sun moved forward and placed a device on the door. Rand then moved over and pushed to door open fully manually. For the past several hours nothing had been working properly.

But none of the bizarre system failures compared to the sight that greeted them.

Jamson looked up, and saw some familiar faces. He was half way of falling into the cold sleep of hypothermia when he noticed the doors of the holodeck were opening manually. The cold winter and freezing winds were gone, but still left an enviornmental after effects on the trapped crew members. Lieutenant Rand looked at him, then the others. Reaching up Jin Sun tapped her commbadge, "Medical emergency, Holodeck IV!"

Adam stood up and rushed through he crowd, running, he had to get the vents to release the energy into the space.

Rand stumbled backwards, stunned by the state of his colleagues and the sudden sprinting from Adam.

Commander O'Shea lay unconscious on the floor, next to her was Lieutenant Jiiles, also unconscious. Michael Jamson stared up at him with expectant eyes and next to him sat, or rather curled into a foetal ball with the insides of the holodeck spilled out all over him was Ringo.

"What the hell happened here?" Rand questioned.

Michael sighed, he wasn't in any condition to explain what everyone have been through. He had no desire nor the strength to share their experiences. All he wanted, was to sleep. He stayed awake against all odds, watching over his colleagues as they surrendered one by one to the cold. Now that help has arrived he could let go and get some rest.

His jaw dropped as he saw Slayton behind the others, he didn't look so good.

"Where the hell is medical?" he half screamed. He wanted to jump in there and sort out his friends but then he realised that he couldn't move them they might have injuries and he would only make them worse. All he could do was stand a stare.

Deacon Starke ran in, flanked by several medics. "Jesus Christ! Lets get to work people!" He immediately ran over to Commander O'Shea.

"What happened?"

A Larger biobed-looking contraption floated in flanked by "Dr. Axl."

"Deacon, didn't Klaus say to be more careful before we left?"

"Shuddup Axe, and help me!"

Anna wasn't moving, wasn't responding to anyone. Her hands where blue as was her lips. She wasn't even shivering anymore, her body temperature dropped very low. She didn't even feel them began to move her onto one of the floating bio beds.

Was he still alive? Last thing Richard remembered was half nothing more then explosions everywhere, and the bitter coldness. He first opened one eye and a few seconds after that the other. "Please, someone tell me this isn't another simulation. Tell me we made it." he asked to no one particular.

"Don't worry, Mister Langley, everything is alright now." Rena Lanford said as she ran a tricorder over the engineering officer. "Okay, he is safe to be moved right now. Let's get him on a floater and to sick bay." she said as she started to move the wires and cables that Ringo was covered in away from his body.

Meanwhile, Marcus was trying to open his eyes but he found that he could only open one of the as the other one was hurting too much for him to try and open. He looked around at the various people and found that not only was his vision blurry but he was seeing other things as well. He tried to move to a sitting position but found that he could not feel anything below his neck. Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the simulated attack by the borg and seeing the chunk of bulkhead that was about to collide with Brianna and him moving to shove her out of the way and then nothing.

Marcus let out a very painful groan of pain as he forced himself up into a sitting position and it was then that he fell backwards and slammed his head against the metal plating of the holodeck.

Rena heard Marcus' groan and turned to look over at the other ensign and handed Langley off to one of the other medical officers as she went over and scanned him with her medical tricorder and then her eyes widened slightly and she yelled over her shoulder. "Get me a trauma team right now!"

Dr. Stephen Westlake form began to marterialize with the form of Chief Petty Officer Adam Kevinson, who had collasped on the bridge. "Nurse..." Stephen said, "help me get him to a bio bed." He ordered. With the Brikar nurse, easily helped Dr. Westlake get Adam onto the bed and began working with him.

"I've got him, Doctor." Mirah, the Brikar nurse stated.

"I'll check on another then." Stephen said, seeing that 'Commander O'Shea was being taken care of by Dr. Sovon, a vulcan doctor with little to none personality. Stephen moved over and checked on Lt. Jamson, who looked as if he had survived a war zone. "Lieutenant, can you hear me... tell me what happened?" He said, pulling a medical tricorder."

"I can hear...you" Jamson unwillingly mumbled. He could barely lift his hand to signal Stephan to move to the others in a slight scorn. He couldn't understand why he was being treated while the others were in a worse shape than him, or so he thought. "Where to begin..." The strange ordeal that was no over, left him confused. He wanted to sleep so badly, and now that the rescue team was there to recover them all, he could have done just that. But, at the same time, he couldn't. He closed his eyes over and over, trying to let go. But there was no rest for the wicked. It the same familiar feeling of being so tired and exhausted after a hard day's work, or after a tiring exercising session at the gymnasium - you felt really tired but couldn't sleep. "Take" he paused, his throat dry "Care of the others first...I'm fine".

A trauma team went over and checked on Slayton with Doctor Lanford. "Compressed spine and spinal fractures along with a major concussion and some other internal damage as well as some frost bite, but he's got a good pulse, not strong but good and steady." Rena said as she put away her tricorder and pulled out a hypo from her medkit and injected the hypo into the man's neck.

"That should help to steady his pulse and heartrate until we can get him to sickbay. My question is what the frell happened to them in there?" Rena said as she looked at the black and yellow grid that made up the holo-deck with a look of contempt. Rena then helped place Slayton on one of the floating bio-beds as she moved over to the Bolian in Lieutenant Jiiles to see how he was doing.

Jiiles had closed his eyes for just a moment. But that moment had lasted longer than expected. He hadn't heard the door open, he hadn't heard the medics rush in, if fact he hadn't heard anything since closing his eyes. He hadn't moved since closing his eyes. He was out for the count. Blood oozed from his ears and nose, but having blue blood and blue skin, didn't make it easy to see. He lay motionless on the floor of the holodeck.

"Doctor.. I've got 'Commander O'Shea stablized..."

"Thank you, Mirah." Westlake said as he continued to work with Jamson. Picking up a demerl regeneartion tool he began to heal the broken bones and hematomas. "Your still going to be sore, but this should help with most of it." He said, moving over him slowly.

Jamson couldn't sense anything anymore, the pain was gone. His entire body was numb, and every motion he made, seemed to him like he was floating in slow motion. He tried to focus at the the dermal regenerator, but soon lost interest as he felt nothing. The numb sensation was soon replaced with a slight sting, that turned after several moments into a burning one. He was coming around, but as the experience brought his body back together, it proved to be too much for him. He knew slipping into unconsciousness was forthcoming, all he had to do was to close his eyes and relax.

Anna slowly became alert and opened her eyes. "Report..." She said, groaning. When no one would tell her the status of her people, including Jamson since she considered him her people. She took her blistered hand and grabbed someone by the arm. "I said.. report... one... you.. sons of bitchs... better.. tell.. me what.. the hell... is going on." She said, finding herself still a little cold.

"'Commander, I'm Nurse Mirah.. Dr. Westlake is wroking with Lt. Jamson. I don't know his status right now. Dr. Sovon is assisting him. Dr. Lanford is working with Ensign Slayton... He's coming out of the wrost of it... I need to help Sovon and Dr. Westlake." Mirah said.

"You.. going.. to help.. me get up." She said, began to move.

"I think you need to lay still.. your body still has suffered to much." Mirah suggested.

"Do it.. Ensign!" Anna snapped.

With the Brikar's help, Anna moved over toward Jamson's biobed. Shoving the Vulcan doctor aside and grabbing Michael's hand with her blistered hand. "You listen to me you sawed off half wit sonabitch...you.. die.. On me... I swear... on the... seven.. hells of Andor... I will burn your ass... piss on your ashes and sell you... to the bloody.. frengi...you straighten up...or I'm... going... to get really... mad." Anna said.

Michael laughed, or so he thought. His lips weren't moving. It was all in his mind. No one has ever spoken to him like that before, and survived. It was ironic, as the pathetic Klingon imitator didn't mind. Was it possible that such an aweful experience generated some caring emotions in his apathetic mind? Don't be mistaken, he was a very emotional person and experessed it when needed and sometimes when not, like a true Klingon, but this time, it was different, as someone actually gave a damn about him. "Andor???" he said peacefully, his eyes wide shut, "Don't worry, 'Commander. You won't get rid of me that easily. I'm not done, yet". Concentrating not to slip away into the darkness for a few more seconds, Michael struggled, with great effort, to offer his hand to O'Shea who in return grabbed and held on to it.

Rena Lanford walked over to where Anna was and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Commander, please calm down, he's going to be okay. He's just resting now like you need to be." she said in a soft but firm voice.

"On the other hand, we need to get him and the others to sickbay quickly as Mister Jamson and Jiiles have lost alot of blood, and Mister Slayton might slip into a coma. May we go now?" Rena said

"Don't tell me to calm down." Anna said, then looked at Doctor Lanford. "Instead of standing here, get your people moving to sickbay." Anna said, sitting down in a anti-grave chair to be moved to sickbay.

"Raising a Furball"

Lieutenant Junior Grade Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer

Crew Quarters, Deck 5

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

The damage so far consisted of one glass, a torn uniform, two decorative Feloran Bromeliads that had, up until about two hours ago, been sitting peacefully on a small table as plants were known to do, and finally, the patience of one Bajoran. Yeah, okay, it was his fault. At least partly. But then again, also partly the fault of Ensign Townsend, who in addition to his normal duties on daycare for the kids aboard ship also happened to have had several pet cats. And as cats do, they'd bred, and voila, there they were with a whole litter of kittens, all of which were promptly put up for adoption by their new owner. Now, under normal circumstances, Miramon had never been partial to animals, but since he wasn't currently sharing quarters with anyone, he had twice the room space to himself, half of which he didn't need, of course. And so, he'd given in and adopted one of the cats, once they were old enough to begin life away from their mother in that spritely, bouncy, half-mad way that cats did at that age. Not that anyone had thought to inform him of this.

The biggest problem he'd had to begin with was figuring out a name. Originally, he'd gone for something standard and relatively cute, so the cat had been named Muffin. Twenty minutes later, that one got scraped, and the Bajoran went for the humorous approach. The cat was appropriately called Mandu, so upon introduction, it became simple: "this is my cat, Mandu." That quickly got old, so he'd called Nara, and she said that a ginger female kitten should be called Ziggy. No reason, no explanation, not even a poor excuse as to why she was mad enough to consider that one. But, unless he wanted to offend his friend, the name would have to stick. So Ziggy it was. A few days later, anything that equated roughly to a curse in Bajoran might have served better.

It wasn't that the cat was malicious, or generally disruptive, but only that it was, well, a cat. From the second it had been moved into Miramon's quarters, he'd expected that she be nice and pleasant, take time to get used to her surroundings and eat when appropriate. He'd stayed with the cat for twenty minutes, made sure that everything for the cat - bedding, food bowl etc - were placed somewhere comfortable so that the cat had no reason to complain and thereby bug the Bajoran, before he left for his duty shift. Six hours later, he'd walked in and the place was something equating to a mess. The empty glass left on his desk had toppled to the floor, and appropriately smashed, while his preciously-tended plants had leaves missing, several of which were scattered around the room. He'd walked into his bedroom, looking for the culprit, and the uniform that he'd had laying on the bed neatly now had a long piece of fabric threaded across the floor, torn by some sharp object.

So, thus far, Miramon could be said to be having a relatively interesting day. Right now he was busy kneeling down on the floor, his head having disappeared under the bed in order to try and coax out the small and furry one that was hiding under there with no apparent intention of coming out. Ever. So the Bajoran was resorting to other methods - he'd even gotten a long Anbo-Jyitsu staff and had used it to try and prod the cat out of place. Short of a phaser, he couldn't see this one working out. The Bajoran sighed and stood up, his hand moving to his lower back reflexively, since leaning over like that for so long was never a painless experience. As he stood up he shook his head with a resigned expression and headed over to his desk, sitting down in his chair with an exaggerated 'umph'.

Picking up a PADD from the top - one of the novels he'd been reading of late, by some Vulcan philosophy clearly trying to piece together the methodology behind human novels designed to make the reader laugh (and consequently failing, in this case) - he began reading. About 30 seconds later, there was a sudden sound of the PADD dropping as the Bajoran flinched, the little kitten somehow jumping into his lap without due consideration for a lack of padding. As he exhaled sharply, the Bajoran swore to either get this furry thing trained within the fortnight or foster it on Saul.

Either option was going to require a lot of work.

((OOC: With this post, Jasmine is back on 'Starfire'. You can catch weekly episodes on FWBN at 8PM (Galactic Standard Time) - Laurel))

---

"Life's a Show"
by Jasmine Heloi

She was rudely awakened to the feeling of someone's hands on her shoulders, shaking her. "Why didn't you use the blasted communicator?" she complained to whom ever had shaken her awake. Her eyes were still tightly shut as she denied any need to awaken as of yet. She had only gotten to tumble into bed fully clothed a few hours before – at least, what seemed like a few hours before. "G'way," she instructed again, determinedly pulling the covers up and over her eyes.

"Jasmine," a familiar voice replied, "You're needed on the set in half an hour. There is not enough time for you to indulge in sleeping in."

"The set?" she repeated dumbly, finally deciding to open her eyes and facing the day. To her surprise, her costar from Starfire – Jonathan Harris – was the one leaning over her bed. "What the hell? What's going on? Why am I not on the Galaxy?" She finally scanned the room and noticed that she was in her trailer – or her 'home away from home' while filming was going on.

"The Galaxy?" Jonathan repeated with a laugh, "Jazz, darling, you really need to wake up. That show got cancelled six months ago!"

"Six months?" she murmured to herself before she realized that this was what her wish had been. She had thought in the split instant the Mirusan 'glow ball' had asked for their desires that she wanted to return to Starfire. No, wait a moment. She blinked, "A show? Wow."

"Get up, sleepy head. You know the director will throw a fit if you're not in makeup in ten," Jonathan continued, completing the thought by yanking the sheets off of the bed.

Jasmine laughed, "Alright, alright. Tell the slave driver I'm on my way. Now get out of here so I can change in peace."

Jonathan nodded and headed out the door.

The Betazoid shook her head and glanced around the trailer before changing into her clothes, "Well," she announced once she was ready to go, "The show must go on..."

"Starfighter Down"

Lt. Cmdr Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison
Ens. Artim - Medical Officer
Lt. Ella Grey, Engineering
Ens. Ember Lansky, Fighter Pilot / Security Officer
Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor/Second Officer
Ensign Le'on Khatrowren, Security Officer

:: Cargo Bay Three, Deck 13 ::

Anna was first on scene when the tractored Starfleet Star was brought into the cargo hold. Anyone could already tell by the visual inspection of the fighter was that it had been in a skirmish, but of what kind and who with, would be what she determines. Walking over toward it she looked around at the personnel on sight. "I want security up here as soon as possible..." She said.

"Yes, 'Commander."

"And tell medical to put a rush on it as well," added Commander Karyn Dallas as she glided into the cargo bay in her gravchair. "I know we have to be cautious, but it's not our goal to frighten these people any more than they already have been."

Moving forward she looked through the smoke laid interior of the glass hatch. Making her wonder what was keeping her junior engineer, she needed to get these people out for medical. When Ensign Steven McCloud walked in with two engineering tool kits, first thing Anna did was scan to see if the hatch was okay to open. Once it was clear on her tricorder, she and Steven popped the hatch via the emergency over ride.

Dallas positioned herself in front of, but just to the side of the hatch. It was important to her that any potential survivors see a friendly face, not phasers drawn, especially considering the attack they may have survived.

As fresh air flowed in replacing the smoke, Artim's respiratory system recognized it and took in a deep breath. After a couple more the Miran came to. His eyes started blinking as he straightened up in his seat. His uniform was singed in several places, revealing deep burns on his arms and torso. He tried to move his arms to unstrap himself, but found it too painful, either from the burns or a broken clavicle. Probably also had a broken rib or two.

When he saw the engineers he looked over to them and said, straining for every word.

"Where...are we. Attacked...they said they were there to...help. Aaah!"

Artim let out a yelp of pain and slumped back into his seat breathing heavily.

"I know.. Stay calm.. medical personnel are in route.. I'm Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea... Chief Engineer, USS Galaxy." She said, trying to keep the small child calm.

Karyn pulled out the medical kit she had placed beside her before coming to the cargo bay and took out the tricorder. "It's okay, Brianna, I can take care of things until the medical team arrives." Dallas didn't know the extent of the male survivor 's injuries, but she had to put him at ease. "I'm Commander Karyn Dallas. I'm a nurse and the Chief Counselor of the Galaxy. It's okay, you are safe here."

Scans confirmed the male was severely burned, but more chilling than that, was the prospect that people posing as good Samaritans had actually done this. Karyn administered a minor analgesic from the med kit and ripped the fabric of the man's clothing to get a good look at his burns. Immediately she began applying temporary bandages to protect the wounds from infection.

Meanwhile, Ella had entered the Cargo Bay with her tool kit. "Need a hand, Commander?"

Anna turned hearing Ella. "Yes.. help me get them out. Medical is on their way." She said, as she reached inside and with Ella's help got Artim out and then moved to see if there was anyone else.

"Be careful when you move them," Karyn warned, as they attempted to extract the male. "We don't know what kind of injuries were dealing with yet."

Slumped against the console, Ember's eyes fluttered open briefly, the pinpricks of light sending her head spinning as she tried to move but realized she couldn't. It felt as though there was a heavy weight pounding in her skull. "Wha -" She struggled to verbalize, the grogginess overwhelming her momentarily before she could continue. "What happened?" She asked weakly. Her head was bleeding from where she had hit the panel, and there were burn marks on several places on her uniform and body as well.

Anna reached up and took out a handkerchief she had tucked inside her vest. Holding it to the girl's head, "I don't know... I'm Brianna O'Shea... your on the USS Galaxy. Just relax.." She told the girl, then used her free hand to reach up and slap her commbadge. "O'Shea to Medical.. where is the damn medical team!"

Karyn placed a hand on O'Shea's shoulder. It wouldn't be good for her panic in front of their survivors. Dallas had done all she could at the moment for the male survivor, so she turned to the female and began assessing her injuries. Head wounds always looked worse than they were because they bled profusely, but Karyn would still feel better once they were in sickbay.

Once more, Dallas introduced herself to the injured female, not quite sure if she was clearly understood, but wanting to put her at ease. "My name is Karyn and I'm a nurse here. We're going to take care of you."

"Commander," Anna said, brushing her hand off since her shoulder was still sore from the holodeck mishap. "Might be wise if you transport them in yourself to sickbay..." She suggested. "I'm going to work with Ella to find out what happened." Anna said, moving now that Karyn had pretty much taken over.

Karyn nodded, just about to tap her own commbadge to request the transporter operator beam them directly to sickbay. Where the hell was that medical team? They should have been there by now.

"The Galaxy found us Ember. We both passed out, you first when you hit the panel, me about 10 minutes later. Stay still we're both hurt pretty bad," Artim said, not turning his head in case he had a spinal injury. He may be the one hurt, but he was still a doctor, he knew what had to be done.

Karyn tapped her commbadge. "Dallas to transporter room. Lock onto my life signs as well as those of the two prone humanoids beside me, and beam us directly to sickbay." She wasn't going to contact sickbay directly as it seemed that wasn't doing any good. There would be time to deal with that issue later, but right now, she was prepared to handle both patients by herself if she had to.

She was relieved when the transporter room acknowledged her request and she felt the familiar tangle take over.

"Ella, let's secure the Starfighter.. I don't want anyone within ten feet of it... if you need to post security around it." Anna said, making sure the small boy and woman was alright before she left them.

Ella nodded, looking at the damaged Starfighter. The thing was a mess, barely intact. It would be their job to put it back together again. She looked over at two engineers that had just come in. "One of you see if the flight recorder is still intact. The other one help me see the source of this damage."

Anna was scanning the exterior of the Starfighter, when she walked up beside Ella. "Confirm this on your tricorder.." She whispered slightly. Anna looked over her shoulder to see if Ella got the same reading, some of the phaswer scorce areas where from a Federation phaser array. Ella confirmed it, with a simple nod. "Secure the flight box.. we'll need it.. I'm going to see if I identify the other phaser blasts."

Le'on Khatowren was the last to arrive, mainly since he was the one who had to bring in some of the investigation equipment and that was a hassle for him since there was a lot of it and he was only two feet tall. He did finally figure out a way to rig an anti-grav unit with a bit of propulsion so that he could merely ride the unit with all of the equipment instead of trying to push or pull it down. "Gangway please!" he called out as rounded the corner and entered the Cargo Bay where the damaged fighter now was at.

The miniature Caitian 'parked' the anti-grav right next to the fighter in order to begin his part of the investigation. He somewhat thought of it as a cruel joke by someone from the brass, but he really couldn't complain too much. After all, it was work. He began by activating a scanner that would take a holographic 'picture' of the damaged fighter before he went in to more of the detailed work.

*****

NRPG GM Note: Engineering should get a look at the sensor logs. Sickbay is going to need to verify if our two new crewpersons are 'clean' since the biofilters prevented beamout. Security can keep a close eye on these folks. Any questions, feel free to give me a buzz, but this is pretty much your sideplot. Next plot post should be out tomorrow at the latest. Anyone is free to join this sideplot if they want.

"Perimeter Duty"

Ensign Le'on Khatowren, Security Officer

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

Deck 13 - Cargo Bay

After the initial scanning was complete, Le'on set about to engage what was called the 'yellow tape' security perimeter. What it entailed was four or more posts that looked like transporter enhancers but with a different purpose. He set up five in all in a pentagon pattern around the damaged fighter and then engaged the barrier field. A 'yellow tape' line shot out around the fighter signaling that the area was now considered a sterile area crime scene.

Now came the interesting part. People were allowed in and out until Le'on programmed in who all was allowed in. The computer would read the individual biosigns and commbadges and allow those in who were supposed to be in. If one was not authorized near the fighter then the 'yellow tape' would then become a force field and block the person, as well as alert security nearby to escort the offending person away. This helped keep a sterile working environment.

Le'on got with the officer in charge and got the list of technicians who were assigned to the job and quickly programmed the computer. He was almost finished when his commbadge beeped. "Ensign Khatowren to the Security Office."

He tapped his badge. "Acknowledged." he replied. "Vould you like me to finish my work in the Cargo Bay first?"

"Finish up quickly, Intel would like to speak with you." the reply came before signing off.

~Intel!? Vhat the hell do they vant?~ he wondered as he quickly finished programming the security computer.

OOC: Takes place on Federation Day. Required reading for Tactical and Intelligence PCs, as well as anyone who wants to know what's what in Federation strategy.

"Racing Tomorrow" - Part 1

Fleet Admiral Irene "The Sword" deMercereau, Commanding Officer: 12th Fleet/Breen Sector

Admiral Jurgen Hoth,
Director of Starfleet Tactical

Captain Nicoletta Rufina,
Commandant: Starfleet Tactical College

Captain Thama Xia'Fen,
Chief of Staff: Starfleet Tactical

Captain John Zaletta,
Commandant: Starfleet Advanced Tactical School

Commander Donovan Hammond,
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Miranda

****

Observatory,
Starfleet Tactical Proving Grounds,
Phobos

In the opinion of Admiral Jurgen Hoth, the view of the starship graveyard over Mars was, with Chin'toka and Wolf 359, one of the most telling signs of the ever present danger of the current times. Places like Mars were what kept Hoth going, day after day, to push his agenda of increased militarization of Starfleet, tighter defense strategies, and political isolation.

Here, where the ships of the 3rd Fleet fought and fell as the Breen swooped down on Earth in 2375, Jurgen Hoth found inspiration. He often began his morning here, keeping a silent vigil for the men and women who had given their lives in the defense of Earth. Maybe it was the belief that he owed the fallen his life that brought him back each morning. Their sacrifice had delayed the Breen long enough for Starfleet Command, where he had been serving at the time, to evacuate... mostly.

The sun rose slowly on the morning of May 22nd, Federation Day, leaving the room awash with natural light. Phobos could be a cold, inhospitable place, but in those mornings, Hoth felt comfortable, though the feeling was fleeting and otherwise elusive.

Jurgen Hoth was a fierce patriot, but he hated Federation Day. To him, Federation Day was the day when the irresponsible, apathetic, uninformed masses pretended to give a damn about their protectors and leaders. The other 364 days of the year, they ignored and belittled those same people. After so many years of service, that kind of bullshit got old fast.

"Admiral," Captain Thama Xia'Fen, Hoth's chief of staff, approached from the far end of the room, where he'd been waiting. Xia'Fen was young for his position, but certainly no less deserving. The Akritian man was the son of the head of the Xia'Fen Family, whose members were renowned as the most capable administrators and organizers in the Federation. Positions like his ran in the young man's blood.

Thama paused when Hoth didn't reply immediately. Nobody interrupted Admiral Hoth during his morning routine. Only when the sun filled the room could the day begin. He turned and watched as the light crept over into the far corner of the room. "I have your itinerary prepared."

"Great," Hoth said, though his tone of voice clearly showed that he wasn't thrilled at the idea. Finally, he tore his eyes away from the twisted wreckage. He turned with a precision that his years as a marine had drilled into him and walked over to where Xia'Fen stood, crossing the distance in three brisk strides. "What pressing matter demands my attention this morning?"

"We'll be shuttling over to your office for a meeting with Captain Zaletta," Captain Xia'Fen replied, handing Hoth the schedule in PADD form, concealing his feeling of distaste from twisting his visage. Zaletta was Hoth's confidant and probably the old man's only real friend. Thama would kill for trust like that. "The topic remains this year's Wolf 359 Advanced Tactical School graduating class, specifically Ensign Miraadi. After that is the required appearance with the other joint chiefs at President Bacco's breakfast."

"Of course," Hoth replied. He didn't like Xia'Fen, so there was little more to say. The man was new, and no matter how qualified his jacket said he was, Hoth was a man who trusted results, himself, and little else. Which was probably why he'd yet to completely accept President Bacco. Privately, Jurgen missed the days of Min Zife, the Bolian who had lead the Federation through it's greatest crisis, the Dominion War. Now that man had understood the need for decisiveness. "Has Captain Von Ernst reported in yet?"

"No, sir," Xia'Fen replied, motioning for the Admiral to follow him to the shuttlebay. Hoth followed, eyes watching him like a hawk. Thama stifled a grin at the thought. Hoth was most certainly a hawk, from his political views to his stare to his beakishly blunt nose.

Hoth grunted in response, a sort of dissatisfied snort. Where was that girl? Admiral William Valerian, the Hydran Sector CO, had sent Von Ernst's USS Nimitz to determine the force dispositions along the Hydran borders almost three months ago. It was unlike her to be out of communication for so long. "Tell Valerian that he has two weeks to find her and put her in contact with me. If he's lost my girl, he'll be answering for it faster than he can say 'Oh noodles'."

Sure, it sounded absurd coming from gruff old Jurgen Hoth. But the use of Rebecca Von Ernst's common expletive substitute certainly made it's point. Thama made a mental note to use the same expression in his dispatch to Valerian. Unless the Hydran Sector CO moved with uncharacteristic speed, Valerian would be in 'deep noodles'.

**** The Bell Tower, Starfleet Tactical College, Glasgow

Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau spent the morning in a familiar place as well. The Starfleet Tactical College, situated high on the hills outside of Glasgow, Scotland, was a sprawling estate comprised of a dozen halls, a large green, athletic fields, and a bell tower. As a younger woman, Captain Irene deMercereau had spent two years as the commandant of the school, which at the time had taught the elite of Starfleet's command students the nature of ship to ship combat.

Irene had always loved the bell tower, over all the other buildings and places, though the nearby woods had their charm. She enjoyed climbing it in the morning, if only to watch the sunrise. The morning of May 22nd, Federation Day, was the first opportunity she’d had to repeat the experience in seven years.

Her last visit had been in late 2375, during the selection process for the Directorship of Starfleet Tactical. Admiral Aznar Ghorin, a well respected Ktarian officer who had formulated much of the Federation's Dominion War defense doctrine, had been killed in the Breen bombardment of Starfleet Command. The position had been temporarily held by Ghorin's assistant, Captain Rika em'Katta, until the end of the war. At the end of the war, Admiral Ross had offered to make the job permanent, but em'Katta had turned him down, citing her relative inexperience compared to other candidates. So the recommendation process, held at Glasgow, had begun.

The sunrise that morning remained one of her most vivid memories. A crisp, clear morning, intense like her, with an overall feeling of opportunity. She had been an outside candidate for the position; a decorated tactical wing commander fresh from the Battle of Cardassia. Compared to other candidates, she had been surprised to make it onto the 'short list'. At the time, Jurgen Hoth had been a much better candidate, and she had been pleased that he'd been selected.

Oh, how things changed.

In the seven years that Admiral Hoth had directed Starfleet Tactical, it had made some advances. The Starfleet Tactical Proving Grounds at Phobos had been constructed and the Wolf 359 Advanced Tactical School had now been accepting students for five years. Starfleet Tactical had been decentralized, a suggestion of which deMercereau, in addition to Hoth, em'Katta, and several other candidates for the position, had been a proponent. Keeping everything in Glasgow and San Francisco seemed like asking for a repeat of the 2375 Breen attack that claimed Admiral Ghorin's life.

However, deMercereau couldn't say that she agreed with many of Hoth's other policies. The separation of Starfleet Strategic Operations in 2376 had sounded foolish then. Now, after the Battle of Havras, she thought it more suicidal. How could one teach battle (tactics) without teaching war (strategy)?

Then there was Project Archangel. If only I'd known the implications then, Irene mused as she watched the sun crest the hill that overlooked the Tactical College from the east. Project Archangel, frequently referred to as 'The Hawk Agenda', had been passed by the Federation Council in 2378. It had created the Federation Liaison Corps, tightened the borders, established Wolf 359 ATS, changed the shipbuilding focus to more powerful ships with less exploration capabilities, and called for reduced diplomatic relations with former enemies (specifically the Rihannsu).

Admittedly, Irene thought, she agreed with a few of those decisions, namely the tightened border security and the establishment of W359 ATS. However, the rest was too dangerous a precedent for the Federation to set. At the time she'd been too politically naive to organize opposition to the policy, nor had she had the necessary clout to do so. Though, when she looked back on it now, perhaps mentioning Natasha Mol's name to President Zife had been a calculated move. Mol's selection as the first Ambassador General of the Federation Liaison Corps had certainly caused the FLC to be a hinderance to Hoth and his Hawk allies that he hadn’t been expecting.

She shrugged. ~We create our own monsters.~

"Good morning, Irene," a woman's voice interrupted deMercereau's reverie. The whip thin commander of the 12th Fleet turned and smiled in recognition. She would happily sacrifice a moment of the sunrise to greet a friend. "After last night, I'm not surprised to find you here," Captain Nicoletta Rufina said, climbing up into the belfry to join her teacher.

Irene just nodded, motioning for Rufina to join her. After a few quiet minutes of reflection, the sun completed it's rise into the morning sky. Leaning her back against the railing, she turned to let the wind blow her hair back. It was a simple pleasure, and a satisfying feeling. "Good morning, Nicoletta."

Irene had first crossed paths with Nicoletta Rufina in 2363. Rufina had been in her final year as a student at the ATS, and had been assigned to give the new commandant a tour highlighting the changes that had taken place since her own graduation from the school in 2338. They'd hit it off immediately, and deMercereau had tutored Rufina privately throughout the year.

After graduation, Rufina spent a year teaching low level tactics courses at Starfleet Academy while she waited for the right posting opportunity. Removed from the student-teacher relationship, deMercereau and Rufina began seeing each other romantically as well as professionally. Though they were both posted away from Earth, and the spark of their relationship cooled, Irene deMercereau and Nicoletta Rufina continued to communicate, and Irene numbered the beautiful Italian as one of her many proteges. deMercereau had even sponsored her candidacy for the position she herself had once occupied.

"You haven't changed at all," Captain Rufina said, mirroring deMercereau's position on the railing. "Such a flare for the dramatic. What possessed you to do that last night?"

"Self preservation," Irene answered immediately. "I really didn't feel like being stoned to death in front of the Palais de la Concorde. People say that I'm good at public speaking. So I took a chance."

"Well, FNS certainly seems to think that it worked in your favor," Nicoletta replied. "So you're "The Sword" now... I guess I can see that."

"It makes a certain degree of sense." Irene nodded. She had always felt like a fish out of water as a younger woman, a soldier in an quasi-military exploratory organization. "How did you know I was here?"

"Jander called me after he gave your shuttle permission to land," Rufina shrugged. Commander Jander Mariso, Rufina's assistant, had been around Glasgow since just before deMercereau was the commandant.

"Of course," Irene frowned. She'd been dreading today. But then, she'd also been hoping for today for a very long time. "Nikki, I'm afraid I didn't just come for the sunrise. Today's going to be very complicated and you're not going to like what I have to tell you."

"That's ominous," Rufina replied. A dozen possibilities shot through Nicoletta Rufina's mind, each more terrible than the previous. And she had been looking forward to Federation Day celebrations, too...

"It should be," deMercereau said, removing a small rectangular device from her dress uniform's pocket and depressing it's lone button. "We can talk privately now. Your life is in danger..."

And she told her the truth. 31. 13. Cheshire. The March Hare. The Mad Hatter. The Playing Cards. The 31 Coup. Everything.

Then they planned for the worst.

**** Admiral Hoth's Office, 14th Floor, Starfleet Tactical Building, San Francisco

"So what's your take on deMercereau the other night?" Hoth asked pensively. He'd been waiting to hear Zaletta's opinion on the matter. Though he hated the politicking of upper level Starfleet officers, he wasn't above joining in for the good of the Federation.

"'The Sword'?" Zaletta snorted derisively. "She likes pissing off Samsung Davoust. That and she's after your job. She's always been after your job. That much has been clear since she sweet talked Zife and Ross into picking Natasha Mol for the Ambassador-Generalship of the FLC in 2376. It's a public relations ploy. What the people like is good for Starfleet."

"Valerian said the same thing," Hoth frowned irritably. What exactly was that woman's problem? Did she not understand that he didn't have time to deal with her bullshit, between administering the most important branch of Starfleet and advancing the only sane defense policy to come from Starfleet Command in their collective lifetimes?

"I'm sure he did," Zaletta replied, pushing a cup of coffee in Hoth's direction. The two, though they didn't know it (or wouldnt' admit it), shared a similar working relationship to deMercereau and Rufina. "Though he probably added a few choice remarks about 'genetic freaks' and 'quasi-Khan supermen'."

Hoth shook his head and replied in a warning tone. "William has his prejudices. He always has and he always will. I don't think that issue really needs rehashing, John."

"Of course not. As for Irene deMercereau... Just because she believes she's a strategic genius doesn't make her qualified to run Starfleet Tactical," Zaletta shrugged dismissively. "And I'm sure Admiral Ross will see that."

"No. Olivia Proctor believes she's a strategic genius. Irene deMercereau is a tactical genius, and she knows it, which makes her dangerous. Credit where it's due, John," Hoth shook his head again. No... this wasn't going to be easy. "Do you have any suggestions, or am I on my own this time?"

It was Captain Zaletta's turn to shake his head. "I wish I did, sir."

"No matter," Hoth replied, "I'll take care of it. Talk to me about your students."

Zaletta nodded and turned on the holoprojector in the middle of the table, displaying a slowly rotating Federation seal. He typed a few more commands and the seal was replaced by a personnel jacket, slowly scrolling upwards. "Lieutenant Marko Balkonin, head of the class at the moment. Scores nowhere near Captain Von Ernst, but better than most other top scorers. Had a very unique solution to the Makepri First Contact scenario. I forwarded you the file a month ago. Politically, he hasn't been very vocal, but he voted for Pagro in the election, so he's probably sympathetic to our viewpoint."

"Good. Have him posted to the Nimitz when Von Ernst gets back. She'll either mold him or break him. Either way, it's good for the Federation," Hoth replied. Make them strong or weed them out. If anyone knew that, it was Rebecca Von Ernst. The screams of the dying when she'd frozen up at Nar Hallas had seared that fact behind her eyelids.

"Do you want to see the rest?"

"Just one more. I'm running late as it is. Give the other files to Captain Xia'Fen. I'll review them and send you instructions when I get back," Hoth sighed. Breakfast with Nan Bacco... What was the point? He'd have to keep his mouth shut, try not to be too friendly with Jas Abrik, and pretend he hadn't supported Pagro, while everyone knew that if Bacco could have her way, he'd have been gone when she took office. At least Ross understood. "What about... the one Thama was telling me about... Ensign Miraadi?”

"Ensign Alhundra Miraadi, Ktarian Female. Admiral Ghoran's cousin. She's in the top ten percent, but nowhere close to Balkonin. Went to the Ktarian War College before transferring her commission to Starfleet," Zaletta rattled off what he knew while he switched the holoprojector over to her file. "She's focusing on Guerilla Tactics. Politically, she'd like to see the Federation take a tougher line on the Orions, and on crime. Her parents died in the raider attack on Tevron VII, so that's not surprising. External politics... she's pretty ambivalent about them."

Captain Xia'Fen slipped into the room and tapped Hoth on the shoulder as Zaletta finished his description. The message was clear. Time to go.

"That works," Hoth replied, pushing himself up from the table. "Put her on the USS Judicator. Admiral Krawczak's goals should complement hers nicely. And now, John, I'm afraid that I'm needed elsewhere... If you can call it needed."

"I wouldn’t.” Zaletta agreed, downloading the files onto an isolinear chip, which he flicked at Xia'Fen. The Akritian fielded it without breaking his concentration. "Take care, Jurgen."

Hoth nodded, and ushered Xia'Fen out of the room, following on his heels.

****

Commandant's Office, Byrne Hall, Starfleet Tactical College, Glasgow

[Are you sure this line’s secure?] Donovan Hammond asked, his image sitting in his new office on the USS Miranda.

"Yes," Irene deMercereau said after a moment, in which she glanced over to see Nicoletta Rufina, who was leaning against a cabinet on the other side of the room, nod in the affirmative. "The groundwork's done, Hatter. You can send the Cards whenever you're ready. No later than 1500, though, or we can write off Hoth and em'Katta."

[Don't know if I'd mind... but they're already on their way. According to the latest intelligence, 31 will move when Hoth's shuttle touches down at Glasgow. 1400 hours. Targets include Admiral Hoth, Rear Admiral em'Katta, Captain Xia'Fen, Captain Rufina, and.... yourself, ma'am.]

"Naturally. I'll be waiting," deMercereau said. "Is that all, Hatter?"

[That's all, Hare. Mad Hatter out.]

The screen went blank, and Rufina pushed herself upright. "That leaves us with five hours. Is there anything you think we can do in that time?"

"Try to warn Hoth, Vincent, em'Katta, and Xia'Fen. And practice your aim."

“Play Off The Complication”

Naranda Sol Roswell
NPC Dolphins

Nara rubbed her eyes. It was getting hard to sleep again. She hated that. Too much complication. Why couldn’t things just be simple? Why couldn’t she love Saul and he love her back and they be together?

Things with Saia had suddenly gotten complicated again as well. Nara had read the message about an hour ago. It was from a grandmother. It explained that Saia’s parents and she were estranged from each other, but when she had heard about the ship crashing, she needed to find Saia, her only granddaughter. Through much research she was able to track her to the Galaxy being under the care of Nara.

The paperwork for Nara being her official guardian was just being finished up and here comes some long lost relative.

Strange thing was, Nara was considering letting her go with the grandma. It really was getting too dangerous.

More complication!

She needed a swim. She needed to be with people who seemed to not have a care in the world. She needed to be with the dolphins. They knew how to just let go and play.

Fifteen minutes later she was in the water. She wore a bodysuit over her swimsuit. “Why are men so impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible!” One said.

“Flying is impossible.” The other said.

“I fly!” The dreamer jumped as high as the tank would allow, “See!”

The other, logical one, stated, “That’s jumping.”

“I know, but it FEELS like flying!”

Before the other could retaliate, she felt some water splashed on her face and turned to see a laughing Nara. "Let’s stop the arguing and play!” They all proceeded to dive, jump, giggle, chirp and squeal as either species were able.

"Diagnostic"

Jeremy Savoie
Ella Grey

***

Routine had never been Jeremy's favorite thing; in fact, he generally downright hated it. But like so many other things that are different after a near-death experience, this aspect of his personality wasn't quite the same either.

It wasn't that he liked routine now. He couldn't honestly say that he felt anything like joy or pleasure in it, it was more like he didn't even notice it was there anymore. When his mind and body were engaged in something as mundane as running low-level diagnostics on redundant navigational sensor array systems, as he was now, it seemed that only as much focus as was absolutely necessary was engaged. The remainder, which in this case was still most of his focus, was caught up elsewhere, often in a dream-like contemplative state. As easy as it was to drift away from the task at hand under such circumstances, Jeremy soon found himself staring blankly at an LCARS terminal, oblivious to the readouts that flashed across the screen, as well as anything -- or anyone -- else in his general vicinity.

Ella was equally oblivious. Her mind was divided between running a diagnostic on the sensor array, to make sure that whatever had happened to the starfighter didn't happen here- if there had been tampering on the Federation ships, and plotting out her apology to Victor in her head. As such, her body was basically on autopilot and she didn't notice that someone else was there.

If not for the swish of the opening door, Jeremy would probably never have even known someone else had come in. The hypnotic effects of his thinking broken for the moment, he glanced up.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," he said, smiling at Ella. He really was glad to see her.

"Huh?" Ella asked. "Oh, hi Savoie."

"How have you been?" The gentleness in his voice was something even he was still getting used to on some remotely conscious level.

"We're just checking to make sure the sensors are functioning correctly." The engineer said looking up from her computer PADD "But otherwise the ship is doing well."

"I, uh, I meant you, not the ship," Jeremy responded, feeling a little self-conscious for some reason.

"Oh, uh, never better," Ella said with a ghost of a smile. She knew she needed to try a little harder here and started to work on working, thinking out an apology, and being sociable. "How are you? Still having those woman problems?"

Jeremy smirked a little at the question.? It was strange thinking about all the turmoil he and Erin had been through and how things had changed.? "Things are . . . a little different, between me and Erin now.? We're investing our energies in a different kind of relationship -- a friendship, I guess."

Her smile faltered a bit at the word friendship; she wasn't sure that she even have that anymore with Victor. But she pushed the pain away for a bit and focused on the present. "Is that why you're so..."

"...so...?"

"You haven't yelled at me once," she said. "In fact you're actually.. happy."

He grinned again. "I don't know if 'happy' is the right word . . . 'calm', might be a better word. I feel more calm," he said, his smile fading as he reflected on it. "I guess life . . . or death . . . can do that to you. And what about you? Get tired of passing the PADD?"

Ella shrugged and cleared her throat. "Wasn't practical in an emergency, you know? I know the implant voice isn't like bells or anything but at least its functional."

He stared at her for a moment, thinking it not so odd that she was speaking, but that she was doing so in a mechanical voice. "But I thought you only *chose* not to speak? Why aren't you just using your real voice now?" he asked innocently.

"I want the psychology department to write a paper about me." She said with a smile.

The helmsman merely smiled at the remark. She wasn't the only one the counselors would have interest in.

Ella decided to switch the subject. "So, if I may ask a personal question? Are you and Erin still a couple?"

The smile faded a little from Jeremy's face. "No -- at least not for now. Like I said, we're working on a solid friendship for now. Things are different between us, you know? I guess 'cause mostly I'm different," he said pensively. "I've had a lot to think about over the past couple months; right now, Erin's the best friend I have on board -- or anywhere else, I guess," he chuckled. "I need her support and I don't want anything to mess that up." He looked at Ella . . .something vague passed through the back of his mind, not quite thought, not quite feeling . . . .

"I see." Ella said, nodding to herself. Friendship and romance did seem to be hard to balance, didn't they? "Well, I'm glad you're still friends. You two are cute, when you're not screaming at each other, that is."

"'Cute' . . . yeah . . ." he echoed, a strange, far-away look in his eye. "Oh . . .uh, me and Erin," he chuckled awkwardly, blinking his eyes in an effort to re-establish focus on the here and now. Jeremy looked over his shoulder at the results of his diagnostic routine as they continued to flash across the terminal. He looked back at Ella. "Um, that's gonna take awhile, so I was uh, wondering if you've had any lunch yet?"

"No," Ella started, wondering at whether she should start out with a traditional 'I'm sorry' to Victor, when she suddenly looked up and flashed a smile.

"Why, are you asking me out on a date?" She teased.

"No, no, of course not," Jeremy denied a little too quickly. Date? Grey? He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, certain he was now some obvious shade of crimson. "Uh, no, it's just this is gonna go on for who knows how long," he continued with a nervous laugh and an awkward gesture to the terminal behind him, "so I uh, I guess I just thought maybe you'd, you know . . . uh, maybe you were hungry...or...something . . . ." His voice trailed off to a mumble, still wondering what the hell he was saying.

"Still cute, even without the second half of the dynamic duo." Ella said with a laugh. Poor boy, although it was fun watching him turn bright red. Definitely a nice distraction, although teasing him was about all she was going to allow herself to be distracted by. "If you want to replicate some sandwiches or something, I'll have one. But I need to finish up this diagnostic."

~Come back to reality,~ Savoie told himself.  He paused and took a breath. This was Ella Grey, the same the same chick he'd sparred with physically and verbally several times in the past; he wasn't interested in her and she wasn't interested in him.  "Sure, sandwiches sound fine," he finally agreed, his face closer to its original hue, and his smile . . . maybe just a little less bright than before.

OOC: This comes out just before "Diagnostic" by Jeremy Savoie/Ella Grey.

"SHADES OF GRAY"

Lt. Cmdr Brianna "Anna" O'Shea CE/SCE Liaison
Lt. Ella Grey, Assistant Chief Engineer
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer

USS Galaxy

:: Cargo Bay, Deck 13, USS Galaxy ::

Anna was looking over the readings spouting forth from her tricorder. She then paused and scanned for the second time a area on the fighter and then looked over at Ella. "Ella," She said, getting her friend's attention. "Look

at this.." She said, moving over toward her assistant chief engineer. "Part of the blast marks on the fighter are Federation, these two... the are, Breen and Hydran." Anna said. "I don't like the way this is looking at...which brings the question of why a Federation starship fired on one of it's own." Anna said, quietly, that was something she wasn't ready to let just anyone know.

Ella studied the readings, her head tilted towards the fighter in thought. "Perhaps the fighter went rogue? Or I suppose if the battle was thick enough, it's possible that it got fired on by mistake." She looked up at her

boss and arched her eyebrow. "Probably best to keep it quiet, huh?"

Anna nodded. "Agreed." She said, softly. "You two work at pulling the transponder coil... we'll see which fighter branch this Starfighter came from... Ella, help me pull the sensor logs.. we'll confirm our findings using those." Anna said holstering the tricorder and moving over to began to

get the sensor logs.

Working together it didn't take then that long to get the sensor logs and the flight recorder pulled from the damaged Starfighter. "Lets get back to engineering, run some tests and see what these components have stored in their memory." Anna said.

****

"This can't be right." Ella said.

Anna looked up from here she was examining the flight recorder. "What?" She asked, then moved over to where Ella was with the sensor logs.

"Well, the logs do show that they under heavy fire but look." Ella pulled up

the log for Anna and watched again as the recording played back the message from one of the Starfleet ships. It was distorted but it was clear that they

were calling for help, which the Starfighter was answering.

"Okay... Anything else?" Anna asked.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, the ship opened fire... on the starfighter. Another Federation ship moved to fire on them as well. The log ended as the starfighter began to be bombarded. "I don't get it, Anna."

"This ship wasn't rogue... it was set up." Anna said then looked around, word of this could not get out. "I want this all moved to engineering work bay one... lock the door with level one security code that only you and I have." Anna said. "If this," she said nodding to the logs. "Is true, we have a huge problem." Anna said. "I'll go talk to the Captain, in person, I'll come back to the engineering work bay once I'm done." She said, "not a word of this to anyone."

"Okay." Ella agreed. "I'm also going to go check our sensor array, just in case. I guess it's possible that theirs had been tampered with and they thought they were really firing on something else." She really didn't believe it but it never hurt to make sure the equipment was in top form.

Anna nodded and turned and headed out of engineering. Moments later she walked out onto the bridge and looked for M'Kantu. "Captain," She said walking up beside him. "Could we have a moment to talk, privately?" She asked.

"Of course." Daren said, gesturing towards his ready room.

Following him into the ready room, she stood before the man's desk. "Ella and I have finished a preliminary scan of the sensor logs and flight recorder.. We've learned that the ship wasn't rogue, but was fired upon by at least one Starfleet ship, possibility two. We are still sorting that out, the logs have been compromised in some blocks. With time, we should be able to get a better picture..." She said, then paused. "Also, the Starfighter was attacked by Breen and Hydran phaser fire.. my instincts are telling me those attacks happened after the initial attack by the Federation Starship... Be advised when approaching Federation starships in this area, we, like that Starfighter, could be moving into a trap."

Daren's visage may have remained stoic as the chief Engineer filled him on the indescribable report, but underneath the stony features was another story. Starfleet firing on another like ship? Reaching up to rub his chin, he leaned around to turn his terminal towards them.

"Lt. Tarin, are there any Federation or Starfleet vessels registered in the area?"

[We've not received an updated traffic report from Deep Space 5 yet, sir. Transponders are declaring Starfleet, Border patrol, and unregistered traffic around the station, but nothing in our immediate vicinity.]

"Cloaking signatures?"

[Can't be determined, sir. The interference is still keeping the sensors from functioning at peak efficiency.]

"Put the ship on yellow alert. Have the Vanguards prepare for deployment. I want no surprises. Have sciences working on cleaning up the sensors. I need facts, not guesses, Lieutenant."

[Aye, sir.]

Satisfied for the moment, Daren closed the transmission, straightening his posture, tugging down on his jacket as he came back to focusing on the Chief Engineer.

"'Commander, continue your examination of the starfighter. Perhaps it would be forward-thinking to inform Major Rex of the situation. He can assign you one of his technicians for assistance if required. Keep me up-to-date on any new information."

Anna nodded, sharply. "I'll speak with Major Rex personally."

"Belay that. I'll inform him myself. Thank you for apprising me in person. I don't feel I need to remind you to keep this restricted to Delta Two security access, do I?"

"I've always set up a containment of the area. Ella and I are the only the engineering personnel involved. For the time being it will remain that way. Any items we remove from the fighter is going into a sealed room, only Ella, yourself and I have the code to access that room." Anna said, handing him the pad with the code.

"Very good. Dismissed."

Anna nodded, turned on her heel and headed out.

"M'Kantu to Major Rex." Daren strode to the exit to the Bridge shortly after the Engineer had left to pursue her assignment, but stopped shy of the exit doors opening.

[Rex here, Captain. What's the situation?] In the background, the faint thrum of activity could be heard as shuttles powered up, checked out, tested, and prepped for flight.

"'Commander O'Shea has discovered some rather unsettling news..." After disclosing the results of the Starfighter examination, he paused to let the information sink in.

"Vanguard may need to deploy at a moment's notice. If so, do not trust any Starfleet or Federation ships on first impression, Major. They may not be as they appear. We'll be arriving at Deep Space 5 within 3 hours, so be prepared."

[Aye, sir. We'll be ready.]

"Very good. M'Kantu out." He took a step forward into the sensor range of the door, where it parted ways. Something was afoot here, and it didn't bode well whatever it was. This far out of Federation territory there was no help to be had. They were it.

"Ashes in your Mouth"

By Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer

Appearances:
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, Incumbent-Deep Space 5 CO

Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer

Lt. JG T'Pol Hunter Chief Science Officer

Ensign T'Rehn, Operations

Cameo by: Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb, Chief Medical Officer

*****

Deck 1
Main Bridge T-40 minutes to arrival at DS5

The man seated in the big chair on the Bridge felt awfully small. Over an hour it had been since 'Commander O'Shea had informed him of the results of Engineering's examination of the starfighter. Sickbay had reported on the results of the two Starfleet Officers recovered from the wreck as being in stable condition. Security had reported they were cooperating fully with their questioning. So far, nothing had been yielded as to what had occurred on the small craft on its way here.

"Anything on sensors, yet? Cloak traces? Starships? Any craft?"

"Same as earlier, Captain." T'Pol Hunter, the recently promoted Chief Science Officer when Jasmine Heloi ceased to exist suddenly - nobody seemed to know what happened to her or where she went. He was even beginning to forget what she looked like. No doubt snatched by Temporal Agents. He wouldn't put it past them, considering the meddling they'd done with the Federation and Starfleet over the centuries.

"Sensors are operating at peak efficiency now. We can get a visual on the station, albeit not as sharp as we're used to..." Her voice trailed off unexpectedly. Daren twisted his neck to peer at the Vulcan/Terran beneath the arch. "Lieutenant? Is there something else?"

Saul Bental, transferred to Chief Tactical Officer from Intelligence with Airaul Taern and William Warbeck transferred off at Mirusa VI, glanced over to the science station. He and Hunter were mild acquaintances, having met once or twice on occasion. He noticed the woman touch her temple, depressing it until it turned white under her elegant fingers.

"Lieutenant?" He held his station, glancing back to the Captain, who also noticed her hesitation. Besetting his eyelids, he pushed himself out of the center seat and up the ramp alongside to her station. Hunter shook her head lightly back and forth.

"I'm fine, Captain. Just felt a bit light-headed there." She gulped, nodding her head slightly as a shiver coursed through her. The nausea hadn't passed completely, but it was fading. "Really, I'm fine." Depressing a keypad on her terminal, she focused the sensor array on the station's position, setting a pattern of detection over it.

[Sickbay to Bridge.]

"Go ahead, Sickbay." The deep-range scans were projecting odd results already.

[We've had thirteen crew check-in with reports of headaches, nausea, and dizziness within the last ten minutes. Has anything happened up there we should be aware of?]

Daren glanced at Hunter, who plainly ignored him, focusing on her duties instead.

"No, Doctor. We've done nothing except scan the area and prepare for our arrival at Deep Space 5."

[Where's the Doctor?? No, not you! I don't need a nurse!]

"What's going on in Sickbay?"

[Admiral Proctor-] The sound of scuffling came over the system, followed by muffled shouts.

[Captain! I demand an explanation. My staff-] M'Kantu terminated the signal. He had no time for this. He had faith Doctor Rabb would take care of things. He had to, seeing as they were due to arrive in 30 minutes now.

"Lieutenant, I want you to check into Sickbay as soon as your shift is complete or if your symptoms arise again, understand?"

"Aye, sir."

Unseen by anyone else, down at the Operations station, Ensign T'Rehn, an unorthodox Vulcan in her long hair and angry glares, also experienced flashes, an instant headache, and stomach cramps. She hid the pain and emotions well, as per the training of her peers long ago on Vulcan. She blinked, moisture glistening on her pupils.

"Station is coming into visual range, Captain." T'Rehn rolled her shoulders back. Her spine felt tight.

"Lt. Hunter, focus the readings more. I need facts, not floating figures." He pointed at figures scrolling across the main monitor above her head. "Life signs one moment, none the next, then fading in and out."

"I can't tighten the beam any more than I already have Captain. Those readings are as well as I can get them."

Daren scanned across the terminal, absorbing it all. "Power levels are extremely low. Too low. No shields running at all. Not even running lights." The life readings were an oddity though. They would come and go, like they were phasing in and out. Blink, and one's gone. Blink, and another shows up elsewhere.

"What are those?" He pointed at sensor 'chunks' streaming out from the station. Starfleet and vessel identity transponder codes would show up alongside some of them. "I wasn't aware of any cosmic debris in the area."

"Lt. Bental," Tearing his eyes away from the scans momentarily, he stepped the meter or so over to the Tactical Arch. "Open a hailing frequency to the Station, if you please."

With a sharp nod and a deft finger, the former Intelligence Officer gave notice of an available channel.

"Deep Space Five, this is the USS Galaxy, under command of Daren M'Kantu, arriving. Please acknowledge."

While M'Kantu had been assembling the hail, the turbolift doors opened to purge Admiral Proctor onto the bridge. Her dark pools for eyes burned their way into the older and taller Captain, but waited impatiently, crossing her arms behind him, still as a block of ice.

"Commodore Jerdberg, please reply." Bental shook his head back and forth.

"It's just dead space, Captain. They're receiving, but simply not answering."

"Keep transmitting on all frequencies. They communications network may be on minimum power. It just could be once we're in the area, they'll hear us."

Bental nodded his assent, observing everything. What his thought processes were, nobody knew.

"Captain, I demand to know what is going on!"

M'Kantu stopped to acknowledge the Admiral, but only long enough to give her what she needed to know, which wasn't much by his own admission anyhow.

"Deep Space Five is on minimum power, we're unable to confirm or deny any lifeforms remaining on the station, and sensors are unable to pierce the interference. That is all we know right now."

"I'd say that's enough to go to red alert. The Hydrans came back to finish their job and claim this space. You know it as well as I do."

"Admiral, we have no proof of that." Still, she would not move, blocking his path down the opposite side of the Bridge.

"They killed thousands, they tried to open fire on this ship at Mirusa VI. They're not intelligent enough to think beyond aggression for the sake of taking what they think is theirs."

Daren gritted his teeth, but held back his anger. She was completely devoid of the fact it was she that almost sparked the powder keg between them, and if did decide to initiate a conflict in the system, it was because of her actions on the Hammer of Progress. Killing a Hydran on their own bridge didn't even cross her mind as being a big infraction for them to declare war on the entire Federation. Previous wars have been started for less.

"Admiral, we need to avoid jumping to conclusions. If the Hydrans were involved, we'll need proof of it. There's no need to encourage their belief that we are the aggressors."

"They're too stupid to understand that concept."

Daren sighed.

"Captain, visual range. I can get an image of the station now."

"Any response on those hails, Lt. Bental?"

The Tactical Chief shook his head. "Not even static, sir."

Turning his back on the Admiral and returning to the center of the Bridge, he nodded to T'Rehn, who'd advised him of the moment visual contact was made.

"Best magnification, Ensign. Let's see what we've got."

The viewscreen shimmered as it fought to adjust a resolution, scanning through the buffers to assemble portions into anything resembling objects. M'Kantu preened forward, as if leaning in closer would help him identify anything through the static and haze. Something floated through the visuals, blocking the view as the screen turned black, eliminating the snow.

They waited a few moments, until the upper left edge of the screen separated from the darkness, drifting downward. Daren felt a presence behind him. The subtle scent of lavender reached his nostrils, and he knew it was Proctor.

"What is that? Fix it."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with the screen, Admiral."

The opening corner of the screen emitted a light of a single star, alone and distant.

The darkness 'flipped', exposing a much larger section of space, adrift with sizable chunks and objects coasting by.

"Ensign, reduce magnification to 500x."

The viewscreen shimmered back, but with the buffers now filled with data on the objects lazing about the screen, it barely hesitated resolving the images.

A nacelle, burnt and ravaged spun end over end, deflecting objects like a baseball bat on connection. A captain's chair flew across the screen, causing Proctor to jump. A boot, deck plating, a frozen targ. Even a kitchen sink.

"We're entering local airspace, Captain. Dropping to sublight."

"Normal resolution please, Ensign." Somber, the starship captain again rubbed his chin instinctively. His palate descried the taste of ashes.

Upon entering the area of the station, they found themselves in a literal junkyard of scrap and debris, the deflector shields glittering from items impacting them.

"The debris field is approximately 14,000 kilometers in circumferential size." T'Rehn had already begun her analysis, oblivious to the emotional distress the others were already infected by.

"I'm detecting Starfleet, Ferengi, Klingon, Romulan, Hydran, Breen, and random civilian signatures. No lifesigns." A starfighter, its cockpit glazed over from a canopy breach, tumbled across the screen.

"And still no other craft detected?"

"None, sir."

Proctor had regained her composure enough to continue pushing the Captain to action. "I think it might be time to call for red alert now, Captain."

"I will decide when to elevate our status, Admiral. Now, sit down before I have you removed from the bridge."

"You wouldn't dare. I could take command right now."

"Not since you need the authority of my Chief Medical Officer, XO, and/or Liaison Officer, none of which are here. Now, have a seat. Negotiations are over."

Before Proctor could retort, Daren turned his attention back to the matters at hand, completely ignoring the would-be Incumbent.

"Deploy the Vanguards to secure the perimeter of the debris field. Determine the status of any of the ships to see if we can send over any investigative teams and salvage data recorders and bodies for proper burial. No need to let the locals get their hands on classified technology. The Androssi practically live in these graveyards."

M'Kantu then glanced to the upper right quadrant of the screen, where the dark mass of the docking ring could be seen. "Make best speed to the station."

The ship backed out of the debris field, spitting out Banzai fighters simultaneously. It graced around the outermost rubble as it came in under the station. More junk hovered about the base of the station, an occasional derelict pod.

"Can we get better sensor readings this close to the station, Lt. Hunter?"

"They're a bit better, but lifesigns still won't focus properly. The station is at minimum power. Life-support in some sections, but not all. Operations, Engineering, Auxiliary Control are all cut off with no power. Defense systems are cold. Docking ring two has enough power for umbilicals. We could probably connect there without an issue."

"Let's maintain a yellow alert, let's stay 20 kilometers off the station." He tapped his badge lightly. "All senior staff, report to the Main Conference Lounge immediately." He gestured to the Admiral as he hiked his way up the starboard ramp. "You too, Admiral. There's no way I'm allowing you stay on this bridge alone." Proctor harrumphed, but acquiesced. There was no way she was going to let this second-rate Captain make decisions on her station with her, either.

Bental and Hunter fell into line behind them, their replacements Nieca Reyol and Coridan Bastila respectively, falling into place taking up the empty positions on the Bridge.

(OOC: This takes place before "Starfighter Down")

"First Contact"

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer
and Ens. Ember Lansky - Fighter Pilot / Security Officer, USS Galaxy

Location: Lounge, Deep Space 5

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

His time waiting in the lounge had come to the point where he was now staring across a chessboard at a rather pretty looking Betazoid petty officer. Despite her telepathy she didn't believe Artim's age or mental capacity. They'd been playing for nearly an hour before she realized the truth.

"You weren't lying , you are good." she said

"Comes with a century of experience." Artim replied as he moved his queen, "Mate in 5. Care to get me that Rigellian brandy now?"

The betazoid studied the board for a few moments and then groaned as she headed for the bar.

Walking into the lounge, Ember scanned the area. It was fairly empty, and her search shouldn't take long, especially considering the method she had in mind. "Anyone here by the name of Artim?" She called out unabashedly, her arms crossed as she waited for a response.

Artim noticed the woman asking for him and he stood up and waved,

"Over here, you must be Ensign Lansky. I'm Artim"

She had noticed the child, but hadn't given him a second glance since he was the least likely candidate for the person she was looking for. Now, as he stood up with an affirmative answer, her look was skeptical. "You?" She asked, clearly in doubt and not even considering that possibility seriously. "I'm not playing games, boyo." Her tone was not harsh, but instead contained a hint of patient amusement. "Why don't you run along?"

"Boyo eh," Artim said smiling. She was reacting just as he'd expected. "Is that what you call your elders? I'm Miran, look 10, but I actually celebrated my 201'st birthday...the day the Federation was founded. So yes, I'm the medical officer you're supposed to fly out to the Galaxy. Well, you don't have to do all the flying, I am a level 4 pilot."

That answer was not what she anticipated. There was a clear moment of hesitation when she considered if this was just a well-executed joke, her brow arched with query. Then, a laugh escaped her throat. She had

heard of the Mirans. "You're what, 500 years old then? You don't say," She tipped her head, stretching her hand out, accepting her mistake with open candor. It was the unfortunate result of not checking up his profile beforehand. "Pleased to meet you. And as for your piloting certification… we'll see about those skills when we get on the Starfighter. 500 years is a long time for them to get rusty," She grinned.

"Well, I'm actually over 420 years old, I turned 201 the same day the Federation was founded in 2161, though I was kinda stuck on our world then.", Artim said in a snide way, "And I only got my level 4 a few months ago at the academy. Haven't flown a fighter before, but after being a shuttle pilot for about a decade, it shouldn't be too much stress. So, when you want to leave?"

"Good to know you still have a precise memory for dates at your age," She quipped, the register of her tone a hint sardonic. She found that assertion of his just a tad 'show-offy'. Granted, he had every right to be with 400 years and a reservoir-full of experiences on her, but she would have appreciated if he was a little less smug about it. "We can leave right now, if you're ready?" She said, personally eager to leave the station. She seemed to feel out of sorts if docked at port too long and she had already been waiting at DS5 two days already. It felt like a century.

"I got a couple things to wrap up here. Lets say, an hour?" Artim really only needed about 10 minutes to run to his quarters and grab the things he'd already packed, but he wanted to collect on that bet with the Betazoid...who was just about on her way back.

Ember nodded. "I'll meet you out at the shuttlebay." A brief smile crossed her lips. "I'll see you then, in an hour," She said, glancing at Artim with a momentarily bemused look. It was uncanny to be talking to a man who appeared as a child but was in fact, centuries old. But, like all other strange phenomena and encounters in Starfleet, it was a matter of embracing differences. She would get used to it.

"The Consequences of Spontaneously Vanishing People"

(takes place concurrently with "Ashes in Your Mouth")

Lt. JG 8-ball Hunter

It occured to 8-ball slightly after her first wave of nausea that all of life's problems could be blamed on Jasmine Heloi.

8-ball hadn't known Jasmine Heloi all that well. Despite the fact that the two officers had worked together in the same department (and a department that seemed to lose officers by the week, no less) 8-ball had never gotten around to learning much about the Chief Science Officer. She seemed like a nice enough girl, pretty, used to be an actress or something, but 8-ball didn't deal much with her and she figured that was good. Stay out of the boss's way, the boss stays out of your way, and life is pretty much hunky dory.

That is until your Chief Science Officer somehow manages to vanish completely from the space-time continuum, and lo and behold, you are suddenly promoted.

When 8-ball had first heard the news, she wasn't gleeful like others might have been, or horrified, like she later became. When 8-ball first heard the news that she was to be promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade status AND Chief Science Officer. . . SHE, 8-ball, the girl who had only a few months ago got into a food fight with a fourteen year old pipsqueak demon. . .well, 8-ball couldn't feel much except for disbelief and shock. It wasn't until about twenty minutes later that the terror started setting in.

8-ball, who had latched onto Starfleet as a means of keeping herself from being perpetually homeless, had actually advanced in her career. In a strange, sick, demented, sort of way, 8-ball almost felt proud of herself for that: being an ensign was kind of like being a virgin for an excessively long time: you just weren't allowed to sit at the cool kids' table until you finally got yourself laid (or promoted, in this case). 8-ball figured that she sort of worked hard, and that she was getting more acquainted with the Galaxy, and if she didn't necessarily love the ship, well, at least she wasn't still thinking about deserting every five seconds. 8-ball thought she could have dealt with the responsibility of being a lieutenant.

But science chief. . .

That was a HELL of a lot more responsibility than 8-ball could have claimed yesterday, and frankly, she wasn't sure she was up to the challenge.

She figured that there had to be some perks in the job: she could probably get herself on cooler shifts, for starters, and make annoying people like that stupid Kathy or whatever her name was do all the crap jobs. Plus, she'd get to tease Indy a lot. After all, what could be more fun than going up to your friend all the time and saying, "Ha-ha, you have to do what I say cause I'm the BOSS!" That in itself would be pretty damn cool. But still. . .now she'd be expected to make actual decisions. Go on more away missions. Go the freaking staff meetings, for Godsake. 8-ball wasn't sure she was up for this.

And she KNEW that this whole science chief thing was going to be a problem when her bridge duty just happened to coincide with when the Galaxy arrived at Deep Space Five. If she was still an ensign, that would never have happened. The head honcho department heads were always the ones on the bridge when the ship inevitably arrived at something freakish like this Deep Space Five, with it's been-through-seven-hells appearance, and it's crappy, funked out readings. This was not 8-ball's place: she didn't want to be here.

And when the nausea set in, 8-ball decided that she really, REALLY didn't want to be here.

It really was all Heloi's fault. Only with her gone and strangely fading away from everyone's memory, 8-ball couldn't really blame her. Not in any way that would produce results, at any rate.

Because 8-ball was not a particularly cool, suave, operative who hid either emotion or pain particularly well, she couldn't help but attract attention when the sudden rush of dizziness set in. . .right in the middle of her fucking report to the Captain on her first bridge shift since becoming Chief Science Officer. . .oh, this was just swell timing. Saul, who was also on the bridge, came over towards her, apparantly concerned, which 8-ball thought was sweet of him. It was this sweetness that kept 8-ball from answering his question to her welfare: for a minute, 8-ball was sure that if she opened her mouth to say she was a-okay, all that would come out was a good deal of well-intentioned vomit.

Instead of humiliating herself further by barfing all over Saul's nice, clean uniform, 8-ball swallowed and tried to find some form of equilibrium. She could feel beads of sweat breaking against her forehead, but her skin didn't feel hot: it feel cold, shaky. She was sure her skin would be clammy to the touch, and she was worried that if the dizziness didn't pass soon, she might have to sit down before she fell over.

Thankfully, though, the symptoms seemed to lessen. . .not disappear, exactly, but definitely something she could live with. "I'm fine, Captain," she said, trying to make whatever the fuck just happened to her a lot less creepy than it had been. "Just felt a bit light-headed there. Really, I'm fine." She quickly went back to work as the Captain contacted Sickbay, ignoring the Doctor report a bunch of people who felt crappy just like she did. Godammit, this whole Science Chief thing might have been a ridiculous idea, but the fact was that it was real. 8-ball wasn't just some random ensign anymore. She had responsibility and shit, and she was going to live up to it.

Well, either that, or she just didn't want to look like a dork in front of Saul.

8-ball continued her readings to the Captain and noticed she was still getting looks from other crew members. She tried not to glare at them, and was never more happy in her life to see Admiral Proctor, the Wicked Witch of the Galaxy, storm on the bridge. Listening to Proctor shriek was never fun, but she sort of demanded attention, and it got people's eyes off of her for a bit.

The captain ordered yellow alert and then told his senior staff to come to the conference lounge. It took 8-ball half a second to realize that meant her too. God, this whole situation was weird. 8-ball stepped away from her station as Bastilla walked towards it, and felt another slight wave of dizziness as she followed the Captain off the bridge. Whether the dizziness was from whatever had happened before, or just the surrealness of going to her first staff meeting, 8-ball didn't know. In fact, the Gods only knew what kind of weird crap the Galaxy would find themselves in this time, and 8-ball had no idea if it'd be good, bad, or really, really, really bad. She was only sure of one thing, and that one little thing gave her some comfort, small and intangible as it was:

It was really all Heloi's fault. Damn vanishing people.

"Unexpected Departure"

(Backpost- Occurs a few days after the events of Federation Day.)

by

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Chief Ops

Ens. Aristi Ferguson, Flight Control (APC)

"Another day, another headache," Iniara muttered as she returned home to her quarters. She dropped heavily into her desk chair, pulling off her boots and casting them aside carelessly. She sat like that for a moment, slumped so far down that she was almost falling out of the chair.

It seemed like Olivia Proctor had been on the ship for years, and might never leave. For Iniara, nearly every day had been a nightmare since the Admiral had come on board. She had been so preoccupied with fulfilling Proctor's bizarre demands that the strange occurrences on Mirusa VI had barely even registered on her radar. Iniara was very grateful that the ship was almost ready to resume its course to Deep Space Five, and that they might soon be rid of the Admiral.

"Darjeeling tea, hot," she called over her shoulder to the replicator. At times like this Iniara was glad her quarters were set up a bit oddly, putting the replicator alcove within arm's reach of her desk. She swiveled around in the chair to pick up the steaming mug, closing her eyes and blowing the steam into her face until her skin began to tingle.

A muffled rustle from across the room caught her attention. She looked up, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. It sounded like it was coming from Aristi's room.

Odd, she thought to herself. Aristi was usually on duty at this time of day. Curious, Iniara stood and made her way across the room.

"Hey, Reece," she called out. A second later Aristi's head poked out from the open doorway.

"Oh, you're home," Aristi commented quietly before disappearing back into her room. A moment later the rustling resumed.

Iniara's eyebrow quirked upward. Normally her roommate's mood was not this subdued. "Everything okay?" she asked, stopping at the entrance to the other woman's room.

"Yeah," Aristi replied, not looking up from her work. Clothing was scattered across her bed, and she was in the middle of folding a shirt and placing it into a nearby duffel bag.

"No, you're not." Iniara didn't have to be a Betazoid to know something was up. "What's going on? Why are you packing?"

Aristi paused and turned to face Iniara. "I have to go home. I'm leaving in about an hour."

"Aristi, what's happened?" All thoughts of Admiral Proctor had left Iniara's mind; the only thing that concerned her now was her friend.

"My cousin Kyla died," she stated plainly, barely a hint of emotion in her voice. "She was a pilot in the Fighter Corps. I'm going home to attend the memorial service."

"Prophets..." Iniara began, and then trailed off. She knew there was nothing she could say to diminish the woman's loss. "I am so sorry, Reece." She took a step forward, hesitating slightly, wanting to comfort her friend.

"Thanks." The taller woman smiled weakly. "It's all part of the life we lead, I guess."

Iniara could see Aristi's natural eye glistening with tears. "That doesn't mean it hurts any less. Or that you should take any less time to grieve."

"Yeah, I know." Aristi nodded in agreement. "It just stinks, you know? She was so young..."

Before Iniara could say anything further Aristi continued, doing her best to perk up. "I'd better finish packing. Even though I'm the one piloting the runabout, I still don't want to be late!" She attempted a grin, wiping away the tears from her eye as she did so.

"Right. Look, I'll be in my room if you need me. For anything."

"Alright. Thanks again,” Aristi replied, before returning to her packing.

A moment later Iniara turned and silently left. She sighed deeply as she entered her own room, sitting down on the corner of her bed. In times like this everything else seems inconsequential, she thought as she took the first sip of her tea.

Iniara remained that way for some time, thinking, quietly listening to the sounds of her roommate packing. An undetermined amount of time later she heard the door to their quarters swish open, then close. Silence descended upon the room once more.

"Broken Triangle" – Part I

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

When they finally found him, in the lower levels of the cave, something seemed to be different in Saul Bental. It was as though someone turned off an inner light, or drained him to the bone.

Physically, he was fine. Healthy. The lack of sleep for the past three days and the lack of food didn't affect him much, and he was still well hydrated. However, he paced slowly and not briskly as always when the rescue team led him toward the surface, and that famous Saul-ish grin did not emerge even once. Not a single joke was told, not a single trade proposal made.

Doctor Slen, the medical officer accompanying the rescue team, was slightly familiar with Saul. He was so spooked by the way Saul seemed, that he actually scanned him to make sure he was Human. Once the scan came clean, he dismissed Saul's behaviour as minor trauma caused by recent events; As someone whose home planet suffered a horrendous terrorist attack just a few weeks ago, Slen knew all about traumas.

It was only after Saul was debriefed on the Galaxy, along many others, that he finally asked his debriefing officer the question that kept burdening him like a Yridian flesh leech.

"Did they find the corpses of Naranda Roswell and Branwen London?", He asked the debrifing officer, a Lieutenant from operations.

"What? Actually, both are accounted for.", the officer replied.

If Saul felt surprised or happy, it did not show on the surface. He simply stood up, thanked the officer, and left the debriefing room with a troubled expression on his face.

* * *

Branwen was in the office, trying to get her head around the idea that her boss had left for a few weeks leaving her in charge. With everything that had happened on the planet it was a bit much. In

"Branwen.", she heard a flat sound, and recognized it immediatly. It was Saul.

"Saul, you are safe." She said was great relief, walking towards him.

"I am so glad that you are alive.", He said, his tone remaining flatter than his ancient homeland, Holland. "I was sure that I sent you and Nara to your deaths."

Branwen just hugged him. "That is nothing you could do, sweetheart. It was an impossible situation. But we are all safe now, it is over." She kissed him on the cheek.

Saul remained still for a few moments, then gently unlocked Branwen's embrace. He remained very close to her though, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

"But it won't always be like that."

"I know, but as long as we look after each other, it will be OK. You did your best." She said soothingly.

"I had a lot of time to think... after the two of you fell to your deaths.", He told her. "I spent hours in the tunnel, walking and climbing until they finally found me. I was sure the two of you were dead, because of me."

Branwen never saw Saul cry. She didn't see him cry now, either. But there was an absolute tremble in his voice.

"During the coming year, there's a chance that I'll die, and that people around me will die or suffer. In the cave, when you both fell, I suddenly realized : this isn't a game anymore. I can't always meddle with everything around me, and expect that no harm will come to you - or Nara. I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want you on my conscience. I don't want to feel like I felt on that cave, ever again."

"Saul, you can only end up in that cave if you push people away. If you are afraid to live. Don't do that, don't make everybody miserable, and don't worry about things so much." She kissed him again. "I love you, I trust you."

Saul sighed. She was irresistible. So understanding, so forgiving, so beautiful, so simple.

Why should he throw all this away? He might as well continue with her, and if she dies, or gets hurt - well, she IS a marine, and she knows the risks. And as for him, well, he'll find another girl, or maybe not, does it really matter?

The problem was, it did matter. Saul couldn't tell where it began to matter. Before the cave, surely. Certainly before Mirusa. On Trill? No. It probably began to matter when he saw a young Welsh, sitting facing her abusive father alone in her room.

Saul still had an ace down his sleeve, but he did not want to use it. It would hurt her. And him.

He decided to try to convince her in less painful ways. "Bran, believe me, right now what I want the most is to kiss you, to hug you, and... more...". He could see her blushing, in a very non-marine way. "But for good reasons. You trust me? If I were really trustworthy, I would've told you why I think being my girlfriend will put you in risk. I would also not drag you and Nara for so long like that."

“I trust you.” Branwen said. “But I don’t have such a low opinion of you that you have yourself. The first moment I met you, you came to me in my moment of need. You are my knight in shining armour.” And then she kissed him full on the mouth.

Her lips had a taste he never tasted before. It was indescribable, like the colors and shades of the Sun in Shadow mural.

He had to put an end to this now, before it'll be too late. Before he yields, and declares his undying love to her. Before he signs her death certificate.

"Branwen, there's something else.", He told her, his eyes closed. He felt warm inside, and he knew that his next sentence will have to be cooler than liquid nitrogen to work.

She just looked at him with trusting eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"In the cave, when I needed to press on your image on the terminal and save only one of you... before I came up with the idea to press both at the same time..."

There was no turning back.

"I almost pressed on Nara."

He felt her go a little stiff in his arms, while she continued to look at him with hurt puppy eyes. "I understand, you have known her so much longer. When… when is she going to move out so you guys can live together." She will herself not to cry.

"She is not.", Saul forced himself to speak sternly, "She has Saia now, and I don't want her dead any more than I want you. I'm going to go to her and tell her exactly what I told you, Bran... minus the terminal part."

His face burnt. He could physically feel pain in his chest and breathing was hard. He was giving away something so special, so important... it was a battle of mind and heart.

And like so many times before, the mind was winning.

Branwen just took his head in her hands and looked straight into his troubled eyes. "that test was not fair. Don't give up caring because of it. Choose Nara or choose me, but don't give up. If you do that, those creeps in who made us go through it will have really won." And then she kissed him again.

This time, Saul didn't let her complete the kiss, as much as he wanted to. "You're wrong, Bran. it's not that I'm letting them win. I'm not letting them win AGAIN. That's a sacrifice this particular knight is willing to do for his lady."

Having said that, he turned around quickly, knowing how close he was to yielding to her, to his heart.

“Saul?” She whispered. Bran couldn’t believe what was happening. They were made for each other; he had appeared when she needed him most. It had been a sign from god. She had been so sure they had a future together. She could not believe he was breaking up with her.

He stopped on his tracks, not daring to turn his head back.

“Saul.” She whispered again as she watched him leave.

"Broken Triangle" – Part II

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer

Nara let out a laugh. One of the dolphin's made a joke. Something about fish and stars. Nara didn't get it, but hearing them laugh and chirp always made her giggle. She dunked under again. She was able to hold her breath a little longer each time. Her aquatic friends nodded their approval. She could use

the scuba gear, but it took away from the fluidity that should come with being in water.

As her head bobbed above the surface of the water, she suddenly heard

someone calling her name. No, not her name exactly, but rather a nickname.

"Princess."

It was Saul. He sounded... depressed, perhaps? Maybe tired, or sad, or frustrated, or... all at once.

Nara turned toward the door. It took her a moment to find it, as being under water can mess up one's sense of direction. The other swimmers seemed to

search around. Nara looked at them feeling the water move with their restlessness. "What's wrong."

"Where is the Princess?"

Nara smiled, "It's my nickname. It's not literal." Her new friends chirped and swam a bit away not finding her joke near as funny as theirs. She got out and waved, "I'll get to work on the special PADD soon." They had been discussing, in between the socializing, adapting PADDs to be waterproof, weighted and special buttons so they could use their noses to access information. Of course, they would also need carrying handles for the dolphins to carry them in their beaks.

Nara looked at Saul again; the smile faded a bit showing a look of unsure emotions.

"I was sure that I was never going to see you again," He told her simply.

She looked down, "I'm always here, Saul." She looked up and scrunched her face, "Well, not HERE here, but here...for you." She picked up a towel and started to pat her hair dry. She didn't want to take off the wetsuit, revealing her swimsuit, in front of Saul. She wanted to keep this as cool as possible. "You know what I mean. Or not. I'm not even sure what I mean."

She sat on the edge of the pool and slumped letting out a sigh.

"We leave." She heard as she heard the sounds of three bodies move through the water.

She smiled, "They're very intuitive."

"Well, they're the second most intelligent species on Earth.", Saul chuckled, but his chuckle sound hollow like two Sakarian grinding stones rolling against each other..

Nara smiled, "Well we humans can hold our own."

"If you ask the ancient writer, Douglas Adams, we only take third place. What happened after you and Branwen fell?", Saul changed the subject all of the sudden..

Nara frowned and looked down, "Nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"We didn't speak much afterward. Too much work to do."

"Nara, I came here for two reasons.", Saul told her, his eyes avoiding hers. "The first one is to make sure that you are alive. The second is... it is... to tell you that... I gave it a lot of thought, after what happened at the cave and before, and I don't think that it's a good idea right now... you and me, I mean."

Nara sighed and slumped, "Of course not." In an effort to hide from it all, she fell back into the pool, not caring if she splashed him or not. After a few moments, she reappeared.

"Now don't go drowning on me," Saul said, realizing how stupid he must sound as the word came out of his mouth on their own.

"I guessed you'd just stay with Branwen anyway." She held her breath, ready to dive again, but breathed out and said, "I did hope it would work out though." After another silent second, she went under again and swam to the further side of the pool, waiting for the swoosh of the door saying he left.

"I'm not staying with her, either. I've just told her that an hour ago."

Saul sat on the pool side, dipping his feet in the water regardless of the fact that he didn't take his shoes off.

"Nara, it's only reasonable. I lied to you, broke your trust. I single-handedly spotted our careers, for my own interests. I exploited opportunities at your homeworld, taking advantage of the war. I'm not going to be a father to Saia - don't think I'm responsible enough to father anyone - and if that's not enough, I'm probably going to vanish some time soon and god knows if I'll make it back."

Nara sighed, "You're a creep, I know that. But for some reason, that doesn't deter my feelings for you. And about Saia..." She shrugged, "I'm barely being a mother. I'm not asking for a huge commitment, Saul. I was just asking for a chance to love the first person I ever thought I COULD love."

Of course there was something else, but Saul wasn't going to tell her that he was hired to kill her, ever. Besides the fact that it would put his career at risk, it would make her understand why he had to act the way he did on Trill. It would make her see him in a good light, and right now it was the worst thing to do.

"Nara, I think you're an amazing person. If the two of us wouldn't have fallen into this pit... in a different universe, without Sakaria, without Branwen, without Leran Manev, and especially without my screwed life – it could be so different... but it isn't. I..."

Much like the emotional conversation with Branwen earlier that day, Saul felt tempted to just throw it all. To hell with the agenda, To hell with Sakaria, To hell with Saia, To hell with stupid Ferengis, blackhole merchants, rotten cousins, and even charming, beautiful, naïve marine psychologists.

Here there was, this beautiful lady in the water, looking like a mermaid princess. And she could be his. And he desired her to be his, even more than he lusted for Bran.

The irony hit him. On Sakaria, he was the one in the water, and she remained dry. Here, he was sitting dry outside the water, and she was the one swimming.

Just jump into the water, Saul, and hold her. That's all that she wants; All that you want. It's that easy. Just push your body forward, and let the artificial gravity do its thing.

Like the Mirusan gravity sucked Nara to the rupture in the cavern's floor, sending her to certain death because he thought it was all a stupid game.

Saul remained sitting.

Nara finally looked up. The tears in her eyes were hidden by the fact her whole face was wet as well. "I wasted so much fighting my feelings for you and by the time I finally tell you, it's too late. Now you're saying the only thing that you'll let keep us apart are things that..." She waded closer to him, looking at his feet and scrunched her eyebrows ready to say something about his shoes, but decided not to ruin this moment. As if it counted as a moment as rotten as it was going.

"Sakaria is my home and I am very passionate about it, but your little trade business doesn't bother me so much anymore. I guess it was just being there that made me so self-righteous about things. And Branwen.... It's not that I don't care, but I think we have this unspoken agreement that either one of us know we just have to deal with whatever. And the incident on Trill is behind us. And your screwed up life? What about mine? Saul, we're all screwed up somehow or another. Especially on this ship. I made enough excuses not to let myself love you. If that's what you're doing."

She looked at him, "I'm tired of denying how I feel. I would assume you were too. So I guess this little speech is my way of fighting for you. Because I… don't want the chance to be gone because I didn't try. Nor do I want to seem..." She shut up and leaned against the side next to him. "Don't you even want to try? Take it slow? Just be friends that have dinner once and awhile?" She almost cried knowing how desperate she sounded. But she was. She was desperate to let him know.

"Take it slow?"

"If that gives us better chance."

"It WILL get you killed, Nara, or hurt. Or both. It already nearly has."

"I know the risks. Just like I did when I joined Starfleet and the war on Sakaria. And like those, I think this is worth it."

Saul dipped both of his hands in the water, and rubbed them together as though he was washing them. "From now on, anything bad that happens to you because of me - not my responsibility. And if I let you down, or if you discover things that make you hate me - that's all your problem, agreed?"

Nara looked at him curiously, "Are you trying to be romantic?"

"No, princess, I'm trying to give myself excuses for what I'm about to do.", He said cryptically.

Nara just continued to look at him, wondering and half-hoping.

Saul closed his eyes. "You made me lie to Branwen...", He whispered.

Then pushed himself off the edge of the pool, and dove into the water in a splash.

Nara looked at him with a very confused look, "This may be a dumb question, but I'm scared it's too much to hope for. Are you saying...."

Then he reached out for her, bringing her close to him. And with his lips, he explained to her that it was not a dumb question.

Not a dumb question at all.

"Apology"

(Occurs after 'Diagnostics' and before 'Ashes In Your Mouth')

Principal Characters

Lt. Ella Grey
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

Victor Krieghoff reached a moment of enlightenment at 19:23 hours without realizing it. Ten seconds after hitting the key on his desk's LCARS panel to transmit his completed final exam for the self-paced course on Basic Andorian 101 he'd been working through for over a year, he looked up, and discovered his epiphany. In that one instant, he intuitively understood that his quarters were a metaphoric extension of himself, that the empty rooms with their bare walls and minimal, plain furniture were merely extensions of the barren, empty space that was all that was left inside him after the events on Mirusa VI, and that if he would but return them to what they'd been before he'd left with the Attendant, that perhaps he would discover he was not so empty inside as well.

Then, with a shrug, he discarded the epiphany as abruptly as he'd discovered it. He was what he was, and trying to change that was pointless - he'd had that driven home to him by Lt. Grey on Mirusa VI.

He stood and stretched, glad, in his way, to be done with the course. He'd start the next section, Basic Andorian 102 tomorrow. Maybe it wouldn't take him almost two years to finish it. He didn't think it would, not with his time free again. Since Mirusa VI there had been no trips to the lounge for coffee, no late-night visits by Lt. Grey needing nightmares kept away, no anything except himself and his classes, both here and in the holodeck and holosuites, just like it had always been.

He stretched again, made a small adjustment to the thermostat to cool the room a bit more, and debated starting another class segment before turning in. There was a new class on EVA survival in the catalog that he'd been meaning to look into, plus the ship was on Yellow Alert as they approached DS5.

The buzz of the door's announcer interrupted his thoughts. He waited the few seconds that it took to scan the area outside the door and then announce: =/\= "Visitor seeking entrance is Lt. Ella Grey." =/\=

Well, that was different, anyway. He wondered if Lt. Grey had thought of something else to say to him in her cold, dead voice, something that she'd forgotten on Mirusa VI. He debated not answering it, but in the end he acknowledged the visitor and gave the command to open the door. If she needed to say something, better to let her go on and say it, than have it fester inside her. It wasn't as if there was anything left inside him to cut away any more, anyway.

The door slid open and he stood there, looking at her, waiting.

~~Can I come in?~~

"The door's open, Lieutenant," he answered tonelessly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Ella held up her hand, asking him to wait, before slipping that hand into her pocket to retrieve a small metal remote. She pressed two buttons lightly and there was an audible beep.

She sighed.

It was not the normal sound that she made with the implant. The sound that escaped her lips was non metallic, human. She'd switched off her device.

Ella opened her mouth to speak.

That was different, Victor observed. Perhaps she'd decided that whatever it was she hadn't said before, it would cut deeper if said in her own voice. The idea made him realize that perhaps he'd been wrong before.

Maybe there was something left to be flayed away, after all.

"Aaa.."

Victor ran through the list of things he'd been called in his life, compiling the ones that started with that sound. Which one would she choose? Would it be in Federation standard, or another language? Klingon, perhaps? Or maybe Bajoran?

She frowned, licked her lips, and tried again.

No, not Klingon or Bajoran, Victor decided. Maybe Cardassian, or possibly Betazoid. It definitely wasn't Vulcan or Andorian, they didn't start many words off with that sound.

Finally, her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. ~~Sorry, Tiger, I can't. Not even for you.~~

That was unexpected, unless, of course, she'd said everything she could think of back on Mirusa VI after all. Victor supposed that to be the likely answer. He'd certainly thought she'd said everything then. "Don't worry about it, Lieutenant. You can always try again, later," he offered.

The "Lieutenant" part hurt but she held up her hand again and then started signing slowly so there would be no excuse later for him not being able to read them. ~~Just wait a moment. I came here to apologize to you for the other day, for the things I said. The truth of the matter is that I meant them at the time and so I can't wish them away. I was so angry at you for having no reaction to... the other thing I said and it hurt. And then you said that I was dead...~~

Victor tilted his head to the side as he studied her. She wanted to apologize for what she'd said? Why would she want that? "Actually, Lieutenant, I recall that I said that your voice was dead, not you. There wasn't any way you could be dead - I hadn't given you permission to die, remember?"

~~Yes, well, you may have said that but I heard something else entirely.~~ Ella said with a wry smile. ~~We hear what we want to, haven't you heard? Anyway, the point is that you make me so miserable sometimes that I do wish that we hadn't met, that you hadn't been born, but then I realized yesterday when I was hiding out in the Jeffries Tube is that I've been lying to myself, and not even that room picked up on it.~~

She was so miserable that she wished they'd never met. The words left her fingers and flew into the emptiness that filled Victor, to be lost and devoured. She wished that he hadn't been born. Those words joined the first, and vanished into the nothingness that had hollowed him out from the inside. He was glad, now, that she'd been unable to speak them.

~~I may say that I don't want you around.~~ Ella explained, forcing her fingers *not* to move rapidly. ~~But I can't imagine my life without you in it. It hurts me more than not being... something more to you. Anyway, I just wanted to say that the things I said, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if they hurt you. Did they?~~

Those words, too, vanished into the nothingness inside him. They did so slower than the others, as if he was more reluctant to let them go, but they were consumed just the same. She'd said a lot of things since he'd saved her life aboard the Defiant all those months ago... but the only ones that mattered, the only ones that he could remember, were the ones that she'd said in that dark gray room on Mirusa VI as his blood had dripped to the floor and taken what had passed for his soul with it. "They were supposed to hurt, Lieutenant, that's why you said them. You did a good job."

She swallowed and nodded. ~~Sorry~~ Ella repeated. She dug into her pocket again, her hand returning with another small device. ~~It's not the same, but I thought you might enjoy it.~~

Victor's didn't look down at her hand. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

~~It's a recording of some of my b-sides. My parents usually had final picks so the ones I liked to sing usually were on the b-side~~ She said and then shrugged. ~~It's the only voice I can give you right now.~~

"You don't have to give me anything, Lieutenant." She'd given him enough.

~~I want to try to make amends, Victor.~~ Ella said, her fingers betraying her agitation. Well, Branwen had said that she had to use body language. ~~What's wrong with you?~~

"Nothing's wrong, Lieutenant. Why do you ask?"

~~You're so... formal,~~ Ella said. And really should she have thought she'd get anything else? Did she deserve anything else? But still, he was so... cold.

Was he being formal? Did it matter if he was? Did anything matter? "I would have said 'polite,' Lieutenant, not 'formal.'" Why did he feel like there was nothing but the frigid, empty vacuum of space inside him? Had he turned the temperature down too far?

~~Stop saying 'Lieutenant' like that!~~ she snapped and then told herself firmly that *she* didn't have the right to be angry here. She tried again, calmly, ~~Whatever happened to Grey?~~

What *had* happened to her? What had happened to him? To... them? Why was he saying, "She went away," in answer to that?

That one went like a knife to the heart, she thought. ~~I'm so sorry, Victor,~~ Ella signed. ~~*Please* forgive me.~~

"For what, Lieutenant?" Victor asked in a voice that was, in its own way, as dead as the one she'd made for herself, as dead as he was inside. "Did you do something wrong?"

Tears were threatening to take over and she really couldn't have that. ~~You're not listening to me. You're hearing me but you're not listening to me. Why won't you *listen* to me? What can I say to make you understand?!~~

Say? But she'd said everything there was to say before, hadn't she? "I thought you said it all before," he replied. "On Mirusa VI. Did you leave something out?"

She just stared at him.

Victor waited. He was good at waiting.

~~I'm sorry.~~ Ella signed. ~~Doesn't that mean anything?~~

That, Victor decided, was a good question. Did it mean something? Should it? He couldn't decide. "Should it mean something, Lieutenant?" he finally asked, wondering if she could explain it to him.

~~I thought it should.~~

That was disappointing. He'd hoped for something... more. Maybe she didn't know any more than he did? No, she had to know, he decided. "If you say so, Lieutenant," he answered, even though she hadn't really answered the question he'd needed answered. "You're the expert."

She wasn't sure what to do. She guessed that it she hadn't really expected it to go this way, an apology should be accepted, shouldn't it? ~~I guess I'll go then,~~ Ella signed hesitantly.

Victor nodded, wondering why a part of him wanted her to stay, even if it was just to scream more words of hate at him again. "If you think of something else you need to say, you know where I'll be." Here, in his empty rooms, or in the empty lie that was the holosuites.

Ella nodded, walked out of the room with a mixture of confusion and dread. It really *hadn't* worked. Why? She looked back at the door, some irrational part of her screaming to go back to him and demand that he accept the apology, but she knew it wouldn't change anything.

Holding back her emotions, she headed back to her quarters.

Victor watched her leave quietly, wondering what had just happened, and why. Had there been a purpose to it? Had she truly meant... no, she couldn't have. If she'd meant it, she could have said something, could have used her living voice. It hadn't been real.

He closed his eyes and stood there in the self-created darkness, feeling the dark, empty space inside him swallow him up once more. It had all been a lie, all of it. His thoughts that maybe he might find someone that was family, the thoughts that maybe he and Grey might one day do some of the things he only let himself consider while he was dreaming, the idea that he wasn't going to be alone forever. All nothing, all empty.

Like him.

He took a single breath, let it out, and watched his breath steam in the cold air for a second before he turned and moved to his bedroom to find the only solace he had now, in the only blackness that didn't hurt.

He wondered if he would dream tonight, and if so, about what.

Or who.

"The strangest therapy"

Paulo
Samantha
Branwen

****

"Come on!" Samantha said in a pleading tone that was actually more demanding than dependent. "You don't want me to *fail* do you? I promise that I won't say a word; I'll sit in the corner quietly, I swear. I'm really the soul of discretion, you now."

"Fine," Paulo finally gave in. "What do you need me to do?" He asked her.

"Tell the counselor about your deepest darkest fears, failures to commit, odd fetishes, that sort of thing." Sam said with a sweet smile. "And then I get to try to diagnose you."

"You want me to tell you what?" Paulo asked.

Samantha repeated her request, telling herself not to sigh impatiently.

"Right... so you want me to spill my guts out to a counselor while you sit in a corner and take notes about me? If I can barely spill my guts out to my own sister; who I just found out about" Paulo said the small one, "how do you expect me to spill my guts out to a counselor, no less with a 14-year old girl in the room eating every word I say?" He looked at her. Sometimes he was greatfull he didn't have any siblings during their teen years, only sometimes though.

"That's about it." Sam said cheerfully. "Ooh, I could even do roleplay for you, if you want. You know, I'll be the stand in for your sister and you can tell "her" (and here she did the quotations with her fingers) what you want to say."

"You do realize who my half-sister is... right?" Paulo asked the teenager, "but regardless I will help you."

"You will?!" Samantha exclaimed. "Shiny!"

*** Branwen's Office ***

"He said he'd try it." Samantha told Branwen, dragging Paulo inside the room by his hand. "Let's start the healing process."

Paulo walked... was drug in and he sat down.  He hadn't met this counselor and was taken back by the fact that she was also a marine and if memory served the Detachment XO.

"Hello, I am Branwen London.  Pleased  to meet you. I don't think we have met before."  Branwen said.  Then she looked at Samantha.  "Would you excuse us for just a moment, and I'll call you in later, I promise."

Samantha started to protest but then remembered she had promised to behave and nodded her head. "Alright, but try not to say anything important." She left.

"Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intel," Paulo said holding out his hand.  "And I think you are right."

"Right about what?" Bran said shaking his hand.

"Not having met," Paulo replied.  "I usually don't come this way, much to the dismay of Starfleet Medical."

"Ah." She grinned. "Paulo, before we start I want to make sure that you don't mind Samantha being here. If you have the slightest doubt or if she made you do it, the deal is off. And she does not come back in."

"No, I don't mind," Paulo replied to Branwen, not telling her about the pleading the teenager had done.  "Though she did interrupt my train of thought that I was in."

"It that something you want to talk about in private?"  Branwen asked.

"Nope," Paulo replied.

"Okay, then I will call Samantha back in."  Branwen went to the door. "Come in.  And remember what we talked about."

"Yes, Ma'am." Samantha said meekly.

She went back to Paulo.  "Do you want anything to drink before we start?"

"No, I am fine," Paulo said sitting down.

"Dehydration during the therapeutic process can be ugly." Samantha quipped.

Paulo ignored the comment.  "So," Paulo started, "where do you want me to start. From the start of my rich life or do you want to just skip to the part where I went AWOL, came back and found I had a half-sister that had been under my nose for a couple of years now?"  Paulo asked.

Branwen send a very warning look to cement are to keep her mouth shut, then focused on her patient.  The girl had indeed found somebody with troubles. "I would like you to start where you feel most comfortable, and where you want to talk about most yourself."she said.

Paulo thought for a few moments.  "I guess from the start would be good then," Paulo said.  "I wasn't always an only child, I did have twins for little brother and sister.  On their 3rd birthday someone kidnapped my little sister and 6 months later my little brother died. Starfleet Security could not find any trace of my sister, it's like she just disapered into the moon light."

Branwen just listened, she had the feeling the story was not over yet.

"Ever since that day I have vowed to find out who did this, who had done this to my family.  The one time I got close I ended up going AWOL to follow the lead and getting tourtered for 6 months till I was rescued by a Romulan Security force."  Paulo paused waiting to see if anyone wanted to make a comment before he went on, or ask questions.

"And did you, ever find out." She asked softly.  "You went through so much."

"Nope," Paulo replied.  "I spent a few months at New Zealand doing some hard labor here and there.  SFI also told me that I was to suspend all invistigation's into my sister's kidnapping.  They don't like it when people use their resources for personal things like this."  Paulo then paused.  "Though, off the record I am still looking, but I have no leads.  For all I know it could have been Section 31 and with their dismantiling on Federation Day by the crew of the Miranda and other ships, I doupt I will ever find anything."

"Have you  ever asked others to help you? The Captain for instance, I am sure he knows a lot of people that could help you with the red tape." Branwen really felt for him.

"No," Paulo replied.  "If Starfleet Security coudn't find anything hours after it happened, I don't think even the Captain could help."

"And have you thought about the other option.  Giving up, closing the book, and try to find some peace of mind?"

"I have," Paulo said, "but I don't like it."  He then thought about Anna.  "Though it would help... I guess... I could then get to know my other sister better."

"You have other siblings?" Branwen kicked herself mentally for not asking about that sooner.

"Yeah, found out shrotly after the Trill Relif mission," Paulo said. "All half," he went on, "one being  our CEO.  Apprently her father had a small affair with my mother, and that affair spawned me.  I found this out while woriking on an investigation of an incident with some Romulans."

"On this ship?  And you only found out just now.  And she is not the only one?"  Branwen glanced at Samantha.  If the girl had put him up to spinning a yarn the teenage girl would be in big trouble.

"Well its been a few months, but yea," Paulo said.  "I would have never found out if I wasn't running an investigation."  He then saw the glance Branwen gave Sam.  "And no, she didn't put me up to it. You can check the records if you want, they shoyuld be udpated."

"I'm sorry for doubting you, Paulo that is quite some story. Have you got a chance to get to know your sister yet?"  She asked.

Paulo nodded.  "We get together when we can and talk," Paulo said, "but now that she is engaged it's dropped off some."  he then pasued fora  second.  "I have met my biological "father"... twice.  The first time he thought I was blackmailing him till I showed him the DNA results, then he told not to release this information.  The second time we were having dinner, Anna, her fiancie, one of the marines who she has known for years and me when he barged in.  I think I will stick with teh person who raised me for right now."

"Blood doesn't mean everything, cherish those who raised you with love." Bran said softly. "You said there were other siblings as well?"

"Yeah, some brothers," Paulo replied.  "I have not met them yet."

"How does that make you feel?"  She asked softly.

"Not meeting them?  I have wated this long, I can wait till the next time they come see Anna," Paulo replied.  "Right now one person at a time."

"Sounds wise." Bran said. "How are you coping with it in your day to day routine? Stresswise?"

"My routine hasn't changed," Paulo replied to the first question.  "I eat more in the lounge now, but that is about it."  He then thought about the stress.  "Well, it can be stressing, especially if her father is around," Paulo replied to the second question.

"Is he here often?"

"No," Paulo replied.  "So far it's just been those two times."

"What does he do?" Bran asked.

"Some kind of engineer," Paulo replied.  "I don't really know."

"Okay."  Branwen thought for a moment.  This man  had deep troubles, and he deserved  a consultation without a teenager present in.  "In and we are almost out of time for today, Paulo.  But I would like you to return for some more sessions.  That is if you want to of course."

Paulo thought about it.  It would be a good idea and he had a feeling that she was generaly worried about him and wanting to help.  "Sure," Paulo replied just as the Yellow Alert lights went off and the ship announced the status.  "That is what I call good timming."

"Indeed. We will make a second appointment later." She turned to Sam. "You had better go back home until we know what is going on."

"Wow, that was awesome." Samantha said.

"Agreed, and I better get to Intel," Paulo said standing up.  "Book me for a time and I will be here," Paulo said.  He felt like a mac track had just been lifitied off his shoulders and it felt great.  He should have done this ages ago.

She waited until Paulo left before she rounded on Bran. "You know, counselors probably make the best blackmailers. I can't wait to incorporate this into my new novel."

"Remember your promise!" Bran just said.

"Not about Paulo, silly." Samantha said. "His story is a bit too ordinary for one of my tales."

Bran just raised an eyebrow. "You had better not. Now move, home! We will talk later!"

She smiled as Bran pushed her out of the office. She was actually glad that she'd helped someone, although she'd never admit it.

"Odd"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer

Paulo looked around. He was in a dark... void was the best word to use. It was also very cold, like nothing he had ever felt before. There was nothing and he couldn't see past his own finger tips. "Where the hell am I?" He said out loud. This wasn't like any dream he had ever had before. He had never been afraid of the dark and he had never been claustrophobic so it didn't make since why he would be in a place like this.

Suddenly he woke up. He was in his quarters. How he had gotten there was anyone guess. He remembered the end of his session with Branwen and Sam, and he remembered leaving, but he couldn't remember walking up the few decks to his quarters and sitting down at his desk and falling asleep.

Paulo looked around. This was odd. As he stood up he was hit by a headache that felt like a mac truck had just hit his head. He had to sit back down just as quickly as he stood up. As quickly as it had started it stopped.

This time Paulo stood up more slowly. "Computer, lights, low," Paulo ordered. There was no reason why he should have gotten a headache. He wasn't stressed at all, none of his muscles felt tense and he couldn't smell anything. "Guess I should see medical later," he said out loud as he walked over to the replicator to get some water before taking his jacket and heading to the Intelligence CnC.

Paulo headed out of his quarters and headed down the corridor heading to work. he would need to check in with Cora and get some work done, then he would go see medical.

As Paulo walked he suddenly got a chill that ran down the spine of his back. Not just a normal chill like you would get if you were cold, but one that caused fear in him. Fear for some unknown reason. He shrugged it off as he walked into Intelligence CnC and sat down. "Okay people," Paulo said as he brought up all the information. "Can you please get me reports on this sector, I don't care if it's a report about a commit or a lost dog, I want to see it."

As the reports started to appear at his computer station Paulo started looking them over tossing away those reports that had nothing odd in them or the normal reports from Starfleet Officer's in the area. He didn't have any of the details yet and he would have to met with Cora to get those, but he would wait till her meeting was over before he approached her. For now, going through reports was all he could do.

"Haunted"

CMC Madden Jayce
Deep Space Five

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

The station was quiet now. Deathly quiet. It sat in darkness, spinning silently in the void of space, its systems powered down save for a few flickering emergency lights and the vague, intermittent hum of life support on its last legs. Beyond that, there was nothing, nothing but the telepathic murmurs that had become a little like the static she listened to over the comm. It was out of desperation, really, a desperation to get rid of the cries of her crewmates, the shrieks of the ghosts that crawled into them, that tried to crawl into her. They clawed at her conscious and unconscious mind, stabbing at her mental fingertips.

It went beyond what had originally come on board; as dark as that was, its product made it that much more so. Intense violence left black energy behind. The station was draped in it now; even if life support was fully functioning, she'd be freezing, shaking as it overwhelmed her. She trembled, suppressed the sob. In truth, Command Master Chief Madden Jayce was accustom to fear, but she was accustom to confronting it. Head on. Not hiding from it, like a frightened child.

Yet, here she was, curled into a fetal position on the floor of a small Jefferies tube junction. She'd abandoned her crew, had sealed herself there not long after all the trouble began, as whatever it was that was attempting to crawl through the barriers in her telepathic mind took the others over the edge, made them go insane, turn on one another. Kill each other brutally and without remorse.

It was the other Betazoids on the station who were affected first. Their empathy picked up the darkness easiest. And then, surprisingly, it was the Vulcans, and they were the worst, the energies releasing all the pent up rage. Madden never wanted to see an angry Vulcan again, she'd never thought…

All the others followed suit from there, quickly falling to whatever it was… The telepaths served as a conduit, their sensitivity grabbing onto the thoughts of others and contaminating them. At least. So it seemed. Madden wasn't a doctor or a specialist and really, she had nothing more to go on than conjecture and the perception of someone who was barely this side of completely nuts.

Madden trembled; the temperature was lowering with the minimal setting of the life support. She could see her breath. Her hands, feet, nose, ears were numb. She pulled her arms up toward her head again, clasping her fingers deep her hair as her palms rested on her temples. Her nerves were rubbed raw, her control was slipping. And the static was becoming less comforting and more ominous.

"A," she whispered, out loud, her voice soft and trembling with the cold. "Apple starts with 'a'. Apple rhymes with dapple. Dapple starts with 'd'. 'C' comes before 'd'. Cat starts with 'c'. Cat. At. Bat. Fat. Gnat. Hat. Mat. Nat. Is Nat a word? Nat is short for Nathaniel. Nathaniel is a name. Nathaniel is not a word. Pat. Rat. Sat. Tat. Is tat a word? Tit for tat. But that's colloquial. Rat-a-tat-tat is an onomatopoeia. Sound. Like a drum. A drum is an instrument. Flute. Clarinet. Saxophone. Tuba. Baritone. Trombone. Xylophone. Lute. What's like lute? Cute. Lute and cute don't rhyme. They should. Spelled similarly. English is a strange language. A is for apple. Apple ends in 'e'. Egg starts with e. Garden. Noble. Back to e. Excite. Eccentric. Castle. Emblem. Mouse. Eggplant. Tank. Klingon. Nova. Back to a."

She cringed in pain. It seared through her paracortex, and she clenched her eyes closed as it burned through her mind. She felt the panic creep back into her chest, tugging to close her throat. Tears pricked her eyes.

It was ironic, really, that she was being undone by this. She had faced the Cardassians. The Jem'Hadar. Spent two years in their prisons, took what they gave her. She didn't run from the fear they handed out. That fear made her stronger, it made her determined to survive.

But the prison camp was nothing compared to this. It had been a few days. She needed water. Food. But she'd probably die of hypothermia before the thirst could claim her or her brain would explode.

She could come out now, there was no one left but Him-- no one living, at any rate-- and He was heavily sedated. She could unseal the junction, crawl out, get a jacket. A glass of water. A piece of toast.

It was a nice thought, this could. But could couldn't do anything on its own and Madden found herself completely immobilized despite her desire to live. Live for what? To be driven mad? To destroy herself? How much longer could she hold out, in these conditions? A day? Two? A week? A month? Probably less. Half a day. Tops.

Okay. Maybe that wasn't giving her enough credit. Two thirds a day. If she was living right and breathed very slowly.

She barely heard the voice, coming through the static on the comm., it sounded so much like what echoed in her head: distant, distorted, a resemblance to language but was it really? Was she imagining?

"Deep Space Five, this is the USS Galaxy, under command of Daren M'Kantu, arriving. Please acknowledge."

Madden tried to move. The communication relay she'd stripped and modified, just in case, was about a foot away from her outstretched hand. But moving wasn't too high on her body's list of priorities at the moment.

"Computer," she whispered. "Unlock the hatches, authorization Jayce… one five seven… six omega… three two." She listened as the clamps released, unconsciously holding her breath, waiting for a crazed crewman to come bursting through.

It didn't happen.

Madden tried again to will her hand toward the panel, but failing that, she closed her eyes and pulled all her energy around him.

*Please help me* she thought, as loudly as possible. *I'm still here. Help me.*

"How to recruit an agent in 7 simple steps – Part VII, Let The Good Times Roll"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

* * * Ten Forward, 16 hours after departing from Mirusa * * *

Saul and Chun Lin raised their glasses, both emptying the liquid within in a single gulp. The two officers, accompanied by Ensign Nyoko Yuuri and Petty Officer Lysandra Stuart, sat around a table in the center of Ten Forward. The officers at the nearby tables snuck curious glimpses at the table once in a while, wondering what these people were so cheery about.

"So,", Chun continued, after another roar of laughter faded, "Hasmonian starts defending himself, you know. 'Yes, This Ensign DiMillo took charge, but it was his job, I was just an overseer.'. And I go like 'But you outrank him by three ranks, for the love of Confucius!'. He probably doesn't know who Confucius is."

"Hasmonian sounds Jewish. Hashmonai.", Saul commented.

"He couldn't be, unless there are Andorian Jews."

Saul rolled his eyes, muttering 'splendid', as Nyoko urged Chun Lin to continue with his story.

"Then, just like Nyoko suggested, I began to drag the conversation toward the Admiral's functioning while the away teams were gone. She was due to enter the room in one minute, but Hasmonian totally forgot about it."

"Correction – he didn't know that Proctor was scheduled to arrive to the staff's office for a briefing.", said Nyoko, grinning so widely that her cheeks almost jumped off her face and went to seek for another Japanese.

"Yep. Anyway, I believe he said 'At least I didn't do anything wrong. The ADMIRAL killed a friggin' Hydran on their own friggin' bridge."

"And she heard it?", Saul inquired.

"Heard it?! The woman was standing right behind him, taking in every single word of the conversation!"

"No way!", Saul cried out, and the group broke into laughter again.

"So I…", Chun put visible effort to speak now, trying not to laugh, "I looked at her, right in the eye, and said 'It was their bridge – but our turf. Hello ma'am."

Nyoko was laughing so hard now, Orange juice was practically dripping from her nostrils. It was a difficult sight.

"I never knew Andorians could be so purple.", Chun concluded, satisfied. He got his revenge, as well as three new friends, and increased his status in the eyes of the Admiral – a key for future promotions. All in all it was a good day.

Saul patted on Nyoko's back, as her giggling was traded for uncontrolled coughing. "You handled it really well, Chun. That's how you need to play around her – nasty. I'm sure that next time, she won't hurry to dispatch Hasmonian to replace you when things get nasty."

"I'll tell you more than that, Saul.", Chun added, intoxicated by his triumph, "In the end of the briefing, she attached me to Commander Sheridan, for a special mission."

"Good for you. What's the mission?", Saul asked curiously. Nyoko and Lysandra pretended to giggle about Chun's little revenge, but they were listening too.

"I'm not sure if I can talk about it…", Chun began, but one glance at Saul's face convinced him, "Ah, what the heck, it's not like you're Hydrans or something. It seems that some terrorist was sighted on Deep Space 5. Proctor got an urgent message from the station's security about it right before we reached Mirusa. She wants me and Sheridan to make sure that this man is captured or killed – says it has something to do with avenging the atrocities at Trill."

Saul's face turned serious, but not half as serious as he was inwardly. "Well, if this guy has anything to do with the thing that happened on Trill, I say go get them. I was there with the Galaxy right after the Akula crashed – it was awful."

"Didn't we catch the man responsible? This Thomas character? And all of his crew?", Lysandra Stuart asked.

"Yes. This guy is suspected in helping Thomas' takeover of the Akula, from within. Had some credit problems, jealous of his Captain, something like that."

"Well I hope you'll nail the bastard.", Saul said casually. "Now, about what I think you should do next to get into Proctor's inner circle…"

After an hour, Nyoko and Chun left ten forward together, still having a laugh about how Chun fooled poor Lt.Commander Hasmonian. Still sitting by the table, Saul closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down.

"The new agent finally bares fruit.", He told Stuart.

"It's Lieutenant Commander McCauley, isn't it?", She replied. The Chief Navigator of the Akula was one of their prime suspects when they investigated the Akula's crash into Leran Manev. He fit Chun's description exactly: Older than the Captain, Credit problems, disgruntled, still unaccounted for.

"Proctor's men are just going to scare him into escaping.", Saul told her. "I won't let that happen. As soon as we get to DS5, I'm going to put my hands on Lt.Commander McCauley once and for all."

"You'll need to maneuver between him, the DS5 security, Proctor's men, and Lieutenant Dobryin."

"I'll inform Dobryin, of course. I'm sure she'll agree.", Saul scratched his chin. "And you tell our common friend, right?"

"What common friend.", Lysandra smiled thinly, and stood up. "But I'm sure that you'll be given a green light."

Saul nodded. If she said so, it was as good as receiving green light from Commander Henderson himself.

* * * Starfleet Academy, 2402 * * *

"That concludes our lesson for today.", Nyoko stated, her fingers fluttering over the artificial illumination control. Yellowish light immediately flooded the classroom.

"Ma'am?", A Deltan cadet raised her arm. Nyoko gave her permission to speak.

"What about part 5?"

Nyoko giggled, not unlike how she giggled twenty years ago as she heard how Chun fooled Hasmonian.

"You're right, it was missing. That's 20 points for Griphyndor.", She replied with a smile, and then began to pack her things.

As she turned off the holographic projector, making the words "LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL" vanish, she suddenly felt an urge to be back there, among the stars, with Saul and Cora and Lysandra and Novitz and Seren and all the good guys from the Galaxy's intelligence department.

Then, she heard two students chat enthusiastically about the case study which she just presented to them. One was suggesting a totally different method to penetrate Proctor's inner circle, whereas the second was zealously protecting the method used. He even called Saul Bental a genius for the recruitment plan.

If I helped making those two better Intelligence officers, Nyoko mused to herself, then perhaps being here and not on a Starship isn't so useless after all.

"The Demotion of Raven Darkstar"

Starring Lt. Commander Raven Darkstar, Tactical.

Also appearing is Mr. Tuznik, NPC bureaucrat and master of red tape.

Location: Mr. Tuznik's office, USS GALAXY

PERSONAL LOG: "I am finding my return to the USS GALAXY to be......an adjustment after serving aboard the more disciplined USS ZEUS under Admiral Bhrode. To help combat the feelings of uncontrolable violence that washes over me due to impatience with the current crew, Councilor Dallas has instructed me to keep a running log and practice breathing techniques designed to make me feel peace. So far, it has been 3 hours since I wanted to break someone or something."

:: The white man's scalp would honor my wall:: Lt Commander Raven Darkstar thought, as he glared down at the tiny, young man seated behind the giant oak desk in the spacious office situated so close to the engineering room that you could hear the thrum of the impulse engines revertabrating through the walls.

The young man, barely old enough to be able to enter a holosuite without a parent or guardian, returned the indian's look with equal distaste.

Hours ago he had been pulled from his position and asked to report to the offices of one AB Tuznik. Not being able to locate the man naturally had an ill effect on the Tactical officer's mood while at the same time, Tuznik was mollified that everyone didn't know their way to his sanctuary, thereby creating somewhat of a 'Mexican Standoff' of attitudes.

Gazing at the contemptuous scorn painted on the kid's face made Darkstar seriously consider grabbing the folding metal chair - the only other piece of furniture in the room - and using it on Tuznik in a matter that would probably not be sanctioned by Federation Standards and Practices.

The kid's gaze shifted to one more akin to someone who has just discovered that corn doesn't always digest.

"Sit down, Darkstar." Tuznik ordered.

Raven folded his arms across his chest and remained standing.

"Computer, is there a malfunction with the universal translator?" Tuznik queried.

[Universal Translator is functional.]

"Odd." the young man said stroking his chin as if trying to stimulate facial hair growth.

He looked down the sharp nose on his face at the indian officer. "If the translators are functioning, then you understood my command to be seated and yet for some reason, have not done so."

Darkstar took the time to cast aside graphic images of Tuznik trying to swallow with his own eyeglasses lodged in his throat long enough to reply.

"I choose to stand."

"YOU CHOOSE TO DO WHAT I SAY OR I WILL HAVE YOU CAST FROM THIS SHIP! BE SEATED!" Tuznik exploded, his voice cracking. He calmed himself and combed his hair with his fingers.

Darkstar watched Tuznik smirk as he grabbed the back of the folding chair. Moments later when he had crushed the chair into a metal ball and laid it upon the man's desk, he then sat on the floor cross legged.

"Now then. Darkstar, have you ever heard of the F.L.E.A.?" Tuznik asked.

"A tiny insect normally found accompanying dogs who's presence is usually heralded by uncontrollable itching?"

The man's face flushed red with anger.

"Not the insect, you savage! The organization. The Federation Legal Enforcement Agency. It's our job to enforce Federation laws and guidelines when an incident arises amongst Starfleet personnel that threatens the Federation or the Federation public image. My job is to keep the shit from hitting the fan, Darkstar."

"Your job is to block flying fecal matter from entering the ship's venelation system?" the indian asked.

"Shut up, buffoon." Tuznik ordered. " I do not spend my day being pelted by turds!"

"That is what you said."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!" Tuznik screamed in frustration.

"You should try breathing. Counselor Dallas says it helps."

"SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Darkstar found his body tensing as adrenaline surged through his veins. He closed his eyes and began to breath deeply. He cleared his mind just as Councilor Dallas taught him and re centered himself. He purged his mind of all violent thoughts and...

"If you are finished meditating with the great spirits, I would like to talk to you about two complaints filed against you." Tuznik said pulling open a file on his PADD. "Do you remember one Victor Wilson?"

"Victor Wilson. Murder. Rape. Assault and Battery. Unlawful Restraint. Involuntary Deviate Sexual Intercourse. Shall I continue?" Raven replied.

"The alleged crimes committed by Mr. Wilson do not matter to me. What does matter to me is that Mr. Wilson claims that you assaulted him when making the arrest."

Darkstar shrugged.

"He resisted. I subdued."

"You nearly beat the man into a coma!"

"I subdue thoroughly."

"You beat a helpless suspect."

"That suspect killed a Starfleet Officer, Kidnapped and brutally raped another. He is fortunate that I did not send him to join his ancestors in eternal shame. I was cleared of any wrong doing by Commander Savat." Darkstar said.

"YOU HID BEHIND THE WALL OF BLUE!!! YOUR JOB IS NOT TO BE JUDGE JURY AND EXECUTIONER! YOUR JOB IS TO ARREST AND SECURE! NOTHING MORE! Fortunately one...Doctor Malagan was more forth coming then your colleagues. Apparently the crazy Russian sawbones spilled his guts after a couple bottles of cheap liqueur. You crossed a line Darkstar. Apparently this is a pattern with you."

Raven's face darkened.

"I have complaint number two from a journalist who claims that you not only physically threw him off the Galaxy, but also denied him his rights under the Free Press Statute. You are a loose cannon, Darkstar. It is my opinion and that of Starfleet that you be tightened up again. Effective immediately, you are hereby demoted from Lieutenant Commander to Lieutenant. You are also banned from transferring to Security for a period of one year."

Darkstar stood to his full height and flexed his giant hands into fists.

"A journalist?"

"Yes...one...Leo Streely. Complaint filed 4 years ago."

Darkstar began to tremble. His face flush with anger.

"You are being given a second chance there, Chief. When you walk out of this office you will have a clean slate. If I were in your moccasins I would make the best of it." Tuznik said mockingly.

"Agreed." Darkstar said.

***** Moments later *****

The large indian walked out of Tuznik's office. Were anyone walking by at the time, they would have been able to catch a glimpse of the young man laid out unconscious on the floor of his own office, a dark bruise forming on his chin.

Raven tapped his commbadge.

"Darkstar to Sickbay. Please send someone to the office of AB Tuznik. He accidentally knocked himself out and may require medical attention." he said and then cleared his mind of all thoughts and images except one.

"Leo." he growled.

"Mundus vult decipi" Part One

Featuring from the Klingon Bird of Prey T’Kengra:

Toq'Neth [NPC], Commanding Officer, IKC T'Kengra
K'Vol, First Officer, IKC T'Kengra
And other various Klingon officers

Guest staring from Starbase 212:
Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC] (written by Pat)
Commander Adama, First Officer, SB 212 [NPC]
Vlex, Communications Officer, SB 212 [NPC]
Lieutenant Ramonde, Tactical Officer, SB 212 [NPC]
And other various Starfleet officers

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

(OOC Note: This takes place while the USS Galaxy is at Mirusa IV)

(A Note of Appreciation – We, Dru and Martin, would just like to take a moment to thank a few people with their help in this series of JP’s. Pat, Ian and Francis. You all know the parts you played from validating the Commodore to answering questions. Thank you for your time guys it was really helpful. We hope you enjoy this series and soon to follow is our arrival on the Galaxy herself, if a lil bit late…. Trey PUT THE GUITAR DOWN!)

*** On board IKC T'Kengra, near Starbase 212 ***

Captain Toq'Neth looked at the view screen with an intense gaze. He was not that impressed with the Starbase that filled the screen. He wasn't even paying that much attention to it. What preoccupied him more were the two 'guests' had he on his ship. Granted, one was more Klingon than he ever thought possible, but the other... The other was a mere shadow of a real Klingon, everyone could see that. He was surprised he even survived this mission. But at least he had honour, he had to admit that. And that was what he most respected, next to courage.

"Chagh So'!" Toq'Neth commanded while still staring at the view screen. Time to make themselves known to the humans at the Starbase!

A female Klingon standing behind the captain looked up. "Captain, the humans could see this as a hostile act. We're allies, but..."

Toq'Neth interrupted her, his voice drowning out her own. "Do _YOU_ question my authority ra'wI'!!?"

Tension rose quickly and at some point it was as 'thick' as a deep fog. Toq'Neth was known for his outbursts and challenging him was on most occasions not a very wise thing to do.

K'Vol, the first officer, flashed her a look and she finally backed down. It was expected of her to challenge her Captain, but that would not be today.

"No sir. Disengaging cloak now."

For the outside world it was a complete surprise when the Klingon Bird Of Prey appeared out of nothingness. It decloaked only about 500 meters from the Starbase, in the midst of a few other Starships...and with its weapons pointed towards the station.

*** Meanwhile, on Starbase 212 ***

"I so won that hand of poker!" Tinaran said as he placed his steaming mug of raktajino down on the surface next to his station.

"You did not!" Colby retorted with an air of indignation in his voice.

"Yes I did." The Trill turned on his stool to face his friend, "You owe me a rematch. You had the ace up your sleeve the entire time!"

Colby stood and stared at the Trill. The accusation made him fume with anger but now as he had been discovered as a cheat his defensive stance was rapidly deflating, along with his seriously bruised ego. "But, I didn't, I resent you're..." he gave up, there was no point trying to fool this Trill, "How did you know?" he asked quietly feeling more than a little foolish.

Tinaran smirked and turned back to his console, "My third host was a card shark." He mused, "I know all the tricks!" he gave Colby a sly wink.

"Third host.." Colby repeated, "Ya know I don't remember hearing about that one. How may hosts have you had?" he asked taking a pew at the empty seat next to his friend.

The tactical console beeped and Lieutenant Ramonde spoke up from it, "Commander there is an unusual energy reading bearing three two six mark four. Picking up some odd tachyon emissions." There was a tangible note of anxiety in his voice.

"Running a sensor sweep" Tinaran announced as Colby hotfooted it to his own station.

"It's a ship and it's decloaking!" he shouted spinning in his chair to face the first officer. They weren't at war with anyone, there were no ships scheduled to arrive at this time. He was surprised to say the least. And his nervousness clearly showed through, after what happened to his home world just a few months' previous, unexpected guests made him jumpy.

"Shields up, Red alert!" Shouted the first officer, looking up from the 'pool table' that sat in the center of the Starbase's enormous OPs center. Heads turned from several of the over forty manned stations as Commander Adama's voice sounded the call.

"Commodore Westmoreland to Ops!"

The Commodore strode quickly out of his office, and ambled down the steps to the situation table. One the view screen, a tactical plot of local space indicated all the ships currently docked or nearby, each represented by the insignia of their respective governments. It was mostly Starfleet, except for the few merchant ships flying about.

And a brand new-one, sporting the distinctive trefoil emblem of the Klingon Empire, lined in red, showing that its weapons systems were activated.

"Power up the phaser and photon arrays." Commander Adama was ordering as the Commodore stopped at the end of the table.

"Status report." the British man asked in his customarily quiet tone.

"Klingon Bird-of-Prey just decloaked about five hundred meters off the north side of the station. Her weapons are hot. We've powered up shields, and weapons are online."

"Very well." Westmoreland said, frowning. "Tinaran - activate the tachyon detection grid, and set the station's sensor arrays for an antiproton scan. Let's find out if there are any more cloaked ships out there."

“Aye Sir.” Tinaran replied turning back to his station; he began to run the scans.

The Commodore turned to the duty communications officer - a young Triexian by the name of Vlex, and uttered a simple command. "Hail them, Mr. Vlex. Let's find out why someone who's supposed to be an ally is showing us the business end of their disruptor cannons."

The View screen flickered with static for a moment, and as the wavy lines and snow storm effect faded the bridge of the T'Kengra emerged. Toq'Neth's face took up half the screen as he leaned forward.

["I am Toq'Neth of the Imperial Klingon Cruiser T'Kengra. Stand down your weapons humans. There will be no blood shed between us, we are not enemies."] His voice vibrated through the comm. System, throaty and full.

Westmoreland frowned slightly as heard the Klingon talk. It didn't make sense to him. Why decloak here right in front of the Starbase, weapons activated and locked, and then say nothing's wrong? Utter foolishness - either on the Klingon's part, or on his assumptions of Westmoreland.

"Explain something to me, Captain Toq'Neth. Why, precisely, are your weapons activated and targeted on this Starbase?"

["Isn't it obvious..."] Toq'Neth said and then grinned in that typical Klingon way, which made it look like he was mocking the Commanding Officer of Starbase 212. He paused for a moment as he tried to determine the man's rank. ["Captain...?"]

"Westmoreland. *Commodore* Jim Westmoreland."

Toq’Neth smiled and sat back in his chair smugly, ["We were merely...testing your readiness for battle."]

Jim had no doubts that this was just another one of those Klingon games. One where they like to point out you were not on your guard, and would've been defeated by them in case they really were your enemies.

"Captain Toq'Neth, I'm a busy man. It would be helpful if you state your business here. And you do happen to be in a spot where had scheduled a weapons test this morning. I'm afraid, if you don't move, I'm just going to have to proceed with my own… test." He replied flatly, not in the least bit amused.

The Klingon took on a serious expression and his gaze shifted about his bridge, and then scanned his own view screen; looking at all of the Starbase's crew with a shifty look of suspicion.

["Commodore Westmoreland,"] he began but changed his mind and stood up abruptly turning to face his crew. Barking some orders in Klingon he turned back round and met the Commodores gaze once more,

["The T'Kengra requests permission to dock. We need to talk."] He said simply.

Jim looked at Vlex and gave a sign that made it clear he wanted audio muted. Vlex nodded. Jim then turned towards the Tactical Officer.

"Lieutenant Ramonde, do a scan of the T'Kengra. I want to be sure they have powered down their weapons, and if they're hiding anything. I don't want to be surprised a second time."

Ramonde quickly performed a scan of the ship and checked his status display. "Yes, sir. Weapons are powered down, and the scan doesn't show anything out of the ordinary."

Jim nodded. The Klingon spoke the truth then, and really was only testing them out. "Mr Vlex, activate audio." Once audio was back, Jim addressed Toq'Neth again. "Permission granted, Captain, for Docking Bay forty-two."

["Thank you. We will meet in the docking ring!"] Toq'Neth informed the Commodore before cutting the line.

Commodore Westmoreland turned to face his first officer. They still knew nothing of the Klingons sudden arrival, or what they were doing here. It was all a little mysterious. And it was that part that didn't sit well with the Commodore.

"What the hell was that all about?" Commander Adama asked totally bewildered.

"Just Klingon humor, Adama. But as for *why* they're here, I have no idea." Jim replied, "That's what we need to find out. Let's go."

------------------------- **Docking Ring** ------------------------

As the doors slid open a several Klingon security guards stepped out weapons loaded. Their faces were most serious as there Captain stepped out behind them.

"Commodore," Toq'Neth rumbled, "we need to speak in private."

Jim didn't hide his irritation very well. He looked at the Klingon guards, eying them with a healthy suspicion. He didn't like having armed men on his station, epically if they weren't his. He turned to Adama and nodded.

"We can talk in the conference room." Jim addressed the Klingon Captain motioning him to follow. His office would be far too small to fit in this amount of Klingons. But with his nod to Adama, he knew Security would be immediately on hand if needed.

The large Klingon Captain nodded and turned around looking for two faces from the crowd behind him. Slowly the pair stepped forward surrounded by guards and began to follow Toq'Neth and the Captain.

Adama knew all to well what Westmoreland was thinking, as he was thinking the same thing too. As the group moved away he quickly ordered security to man the docking ring and keep an eye on the Klingons and an extra attachment to follow them to the conference room.

"Mundus vult decipi" Part Two

Guest Starting from Starbase 212
Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC]
James Owen, CMO, SB 212 [NPC]

Also featuring

Corky, Quantum Communication and Cryptology expert [NPC]
1 Unidentified Female associate 1 Unidentified male

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

(This takes place while the USS Galaxy is at Mirusa IV)

***Conference room 3 Starbase 212***

Jim looked down at the report Toq'Neth had handed him and rubbed his chin in deep thought. Toq'Neth had left on the T'Kengra about an hour ago leaving two Klingons behind.

Well they looked like Klingons, and they sounded like Klingons. But if what they said was true, they weren't Klingons at all. Very odd, indeed.

The door chirped, interrupting his already muddled thoughts.

"Come." He said looking up.

The door opened revealing his chief medical officer. "Commodore." He nodded.

Jim stood up to greet the doctor. "Good morning, James." He said smiling slightly. "I need you to take a blood sample from these two." He indicated the Klingons who sat in front of his desk, "I need you to confirm their identity, take every measure and there can't be any room for doubt. After your DNA scans done, you'll need to run it against the Starfleet database.." he trailed off noticing the Doctor's bewildered look.

He was going to explain but his thoughts were too confused on this matter to begin. Jim had seen a lot of strange things in his years with the 'Fleet, but never this. Westmoreland sat back down and waited for James to complete his task before continuing to probe these two for more information.

James moved forward, frowning. Sighing he decided to just get on with what he was asked. Opening his medical kit he took out a hypo and looked at his first, ‘patient'. She was Klingon by the looks of her, dark crimped hair flowing around her shoulders like a main. She was incredibly skinny for a Klingon woman; that was the most unusual thing that caught his attention. He looked at her and went to speak, her eyes were dark, almost black. For a moment he seemed lost in them.

Slowly the Klingon woman rolled her sleeve up and presented it to him. When he still hadn't moved to take the sample she bared her teeth at him, she was going to miss those teeth, "Doctor. Take your samples and leave us!" she hissed.

James blinked and nodded, she was quite attractive for a Klingon. Slowly he bent down and took the blood sample. And then removed a few strands of hair. He was waiting for the Klingon to get mad, say something maybe, but as he continued to bag up the samples she sat still, not saying a word.

James cast a worried glance to the Commodore as he produced a swab, "I...you need to.. Open your mouth." he said cautiously.

The Klingon woman didn't seem to bat an eyelid, and James was sure that she would take offence.. But she just opened her mouth.

James began to rub the swab on the inside of her cheek to get the DNA samples he would need.

Next to her the Klingon male shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He seemed to be sweating slightly. James noted this and finished with the woman quickly. She might not find this offensive or degrading but 'he' might not be so understanding.

Moving over James began to retrieve samples from the Klingon male. He still felt a little nervous, and the silence that penetrated the room was tangible, even James felt the need to be quiet, wincing every time he made a noise with the bags and his equipment. None of them said a word as he collated the samples and put them in his medical kit.

Still not wanting to break the silence he nodded to the Commodore when he had finished.

"James I need the results from those ASAP. Consider it a high priory. And this is also confidential. No one must know what you're doing or the results except you and me. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." James replied nodding again before he left.

As the door closed Jim turned back to the Klingons before him.

"So let me get this straight." he began, "You two went to Starfleet Headquarters and went over the information from the investigation ..?"

"No sir." The female replied, sometime Commodores could be a little dense, was this report that hard to understand, or was he just amazed that they had pulled this off?

In truth, it was the latter.

"I went back to Earth." The male said. "I retrieved the reports and…”

*** Flashback. Location: Earth ***

Truly, Starfleet Headquarters is like a well defended fortress to outsiders. That piece of knowledge became painfully apparent when the two tried to gain access to Starfleet records. The database they tried to access that stood at HQ was like old Fort Knox all in itself, and then five hundred times over. All they could get was general info that was available for public. Clearly that was not enough.

"Okay, that didn't bring us anything." He uttered, while sitting behind a console that was located in the study room. "We can't get the information we need. Not via the usual way."

"Tried my credentials?" She asked.

"Yes. Same result." Standing from his seat he looked through the window into the garden. "There's simply no getting around the fact that this isn't getting us further."

"Meaning we have to get down and dirty." She couldn't hide a smile. Unlike her associate, she didn't have such a problem with it.

"Yeah, you could say that." He said. "And why do you smile? This isn't some game we're playing. If this goes wrong, if we screw up, then we end up in a penal colony."

"Hey, I know. But you're worrying too much. We can do this." She stood next to him. "Besides, what's life without a little anxiety?"

"Oh, I've had enough anxiety in the last years."

She he let out a puff of air to blow the hairs from her face. She felt a little insulted. "Huh, you sound so sure of that. Ever served on a Klingon ship?"

He looked at her for a moment and then back again, facing the window. "No, I haven't. But I don't see why it can't happen someday."

"Then you better start preparing. Anxiety, fights, and a lot of stress...it's all part of the daily routine. You don't know what anxiety is until you served there." She sat down again. "Okay, do you just keep standing there or get back to work again? You're not giving up, are you?"

"Me? Giving up? After two years?" he answered her. Now it was his time to feel insulted. "Who do you think I am? Shift aside. It's time to call in some favours."

*** Two hours later, Basement of nearby University ***

The door squealed when it opened. The man and woman stepped into the large underground room. Instead of finding a dusty and foul room, they found the opposite of that. Half the room was filled with computer systems and consoles. A man with a white lab coat came forward out of some corner that was a bit less tidy. He had some thick slightly coloured goggles on, making him look like a real nerd. He slid his goggles aside.

"Hey...old friend. It's good seeing you again. It's been too long."

"Hi Corky. Still hiding out here?" The other man said with a smile.

"Ah, you know me, this is my place. The University is my home and computers my company." Corky said. "Who is the chick?"

"Chick?" the woman retorted looking down her nose at the man, "Chick?" she repeated taking a step closer to him, her eyes were daggers, "I'm a woman!" she said venomously, "Not a 'chick'!" She was about to give poor Corky a slap in the face, but was prevented from doing that by her associate as he touched her on the arm. Slowly she took a step back, she had to remember where she was and that this man was supposed to be helping them. Slapping him wouldn't get them anywhere, unless he said no. Then she could punch him!

"Wow, wow...easy!" the man said. He looked at the woman beside him.

"Corky was merely using some old slang, nothing more. Right Corky?"

Corky took a few steps back and looked wide-eyed at the woman. What a fury! "Uh,...yes, yes...old slang, old slang."

"Alright. Corky meet my partner." He looked at the woman who suddenly looked even more angrily his way. Then it hit home. "Ehm...well, not partner as in 'partner'...but a business partner."

Corky suppressed a chuckle. "I see."

"Well, and you already know who he is." The man said as he turned to his female 'business partner' again. "He's the expert here on Quantum Communication and Cryptology and our very own hacker."

The woman nodded and tried not to give him the evil eye as she did so. She was not used to working with humans; this was going to take time to get used to.

"Shhh! Don't say that." Corky looked around. "They aren't too fond of that word around here. You know that!"

"Yes, I do know that. But I still like to say it anyway." The man replied and grinned. Then he turned serious again. "You know why we're here. I like to get on with it, if you don't mind."

"Ah,...now, well,...is this really necessary?" Corky started. "It's not that I don't want to help you out, but it's criminal, and if I get caught doing this..."

She rolled her eyes at the man and sighed as she changed her stance to lean on one leg. Why was it that humans were so afraid of being caught? Working with Klingons for the past few years had really toughened her up. You did what you had to do to get the job done, end of. There was no recriminations so long as it suited the empire…

"You won't get caught Corky and besides, half the things you do in here belong in the category 'criminal acts'. And I should know."

"Criminal!? Criminal!!? Why, I don't do such things!" Corky half shouted to the man.

"Geez...shhhh...will you relax Corky! I was only joking. But seriously, you have to do this for me. You the only one I know who can pull this off. Please? You can use my old credentials I used here on the Uni as a cover. That way, if they find out...you can play dumb and point your finger in my direction."

Corky frowned and appeared to be deep in thought.

"Come on Corky? How many times did I help you out of a stinking heap of shit? Do I really have to beg?"

She wasn't going to say anything, this wasn't her friend or her fight. But seeing as she had spent all this time getting here, and this man was there last hope, she turned on the charm, "Please." She said simply, "If there was any other way we would have done it. But you're the only man that can pull this off." She leaned in, "Don't you think its killing us that we have to ask for help?" she half smiled at him, her bright green eyes twinkling in the light.

Finally, after giving a big sigh, Corky gave in. "Alright... I'll do it. But this isn't going to be a 'piece of cake'. You're lucky if I can get in at all. This is going to take several days, maybe weeks."

"Weeks? I don't have that long Corky. Days okay, but weeks, no."

"Forget it. You want the impossible!" Corky threw up his hands and walked away.

~UGH, Men! Chickens the lot of them.~ she grumbled to herself.

"Please, trust me on this one? There are lives at stake here Corky, many lives!" The man hated to beg and over exaggerate but he didn't know what to do else at this critical moment.

"Okay, okay! Stop yelling at me, will you? You said enough." Corky held both his hands up in a 'wow back off dude' fashion. "You made your point."

"So, you'll do it?"

"Yes, yes, I'll do it." Corky started walking towards his little corner of computer delight. "Now, if you can back off just a little bit. And please, no hugs, right? No hugs."

"I owe you big time pal."

Corky turned around one more time. "You got that right."

*** Three days later, 01.30 am ***

All was quiet and one could only hear computer hum plus someone punching in commands on one of the consoles. There came an abrupt end to this when Corky raised both his hands in the air.

"Got it... I'm in... Holy smokes, I did it... I'm in!" Corky said slowly. He kept staring at the screen. "I can hardly believe it, but I'm in!"

The two other people with him slowly got to their senses as they awoke from their sleep, both wiping the sleeping dust from their eyes. The female spoke up first, "What do you have genius?" she said sleepily.

"Didn't you hear? I'm in! I got access!"

Now Corky's friend stepped in. He looked at the screen for a while. "My... This is unbelievable. You really did it. You're brilliant Corky, no doubt about that."

"Thank you, thank you." Corky said, making small bows. "But we need to be quick. We have only but a small time window before they find out something is wrong. What do you need?"

The man nodded. He knew all too well what Corky meant. "Right, what I need is this..."

"Assignment: Galaxy"

Introducing Lt.JG Cain Forrester the New Chief Historian

And returning Commodore Alan Savage(RNPC) A man of many roles

1 week ago, Starbase 212.

Commodore Savage had alot of Duties to attend to. Somebody was trying to force him out of Starfleet again. While still managing the Starfleet end of any diplomatic dealings with the Kless Monarchy, he had also been called away to SB212 for crew assignments.

~Why god! Why! Why the hell do I gotta toss these annoying little upstarts around! If I had a choice, I'd send every last one of them to Andor or some other cold place...can't exactly send'em to Breen anymore.~

He continued to rifle through his badly prepared office.

A tall lanky man with 1 and a half pips on his neck entered. He surveyed the messy office. ~A kindren spirit.~

Alan looked up. "Hmm. You the 2 o'clock? Ensign....Lieutenant Cain Forrestor."

"Yea. Thats me." Cain didn't really seem to care. He didn't NOT respect the Commodore, but he really wasn't for formalities.

"Well, sit your ass down." Cain did so. "Apparently you got that Half-pip already. Probably from your captain. Well, he's the speil. Due to your actions on...whatever world involving escaping your captors, a Splinter Cell of the Former Obsidion Order, then sustaining life threatening injuries while rescueing your fellow shipmates with no friendly loss of life, yadda yadda yadda, You are hereby offically awarded...whatever that award is, and a promotion to Lieutenant Junior Grade, effective immediately. You will also be allowed to pick whatever assignment ya want."

"Ok. Sounds cool." replied Cain in a completely calm yet mildly pleased voice.

Alan was dumbfounded. ~Does this guy just not care? He has no future given the rest of his service history.~

"I'm not sure I understand. You're a Lieutenant. Aren't you excited? At all?"

Cain thought for a moment. "No. Not really. Just a rank. I am curious about the assignment you have for me, though."

Alan sighed and shook his head. "Well, maybe you didn't hear me. It's *YOUR* choice where you get assigned."

"Huh, it is? Oh..right. Yea, thats what the captain said. I dunno, I haven't decided yet."

The Commodore clenched his teeth... "Is there ANYWHERE that is on like...a top ten list?"

Cain stroked his stubble filled chin. "No..not really. Although a ship of the fleet might be nice." mo

"Well..What abotu some resort world or something.......hey! Risa! You like Risa right?"

"No. Last time I was on Risa, I woke up every morning with a bad hangover." replied Cain, with slight disdain in his voice.

"Bajor? Says here you majored in History, You like history right? I hear it's rich there...like really rich."

Cain chuckled. "The V'thoran was assigned to DS9 while I was serving on her, I've already cleaned out most of the tomes and historical records there."

"Damnit." Alan thought for a moment. ~The guys a lazy indecisive book worm. I GET IT!"

"I know! A cushy Teaching assistant job at Starfleet Academy!"

Cain immediately shook his head. "No! No way. I hate Earth. Every time I've been there something Terrible's happened." "C'mon! Earth man! San Francisco!"

"No fucking way..uh..sir."

The Commodore stood up, annoyed, and walked to his window. "You're not making this easy."

He immediately had a though. "Oh! I know! Action and Adventure! I have a friend on a Ship called the USS Galaxy. I'll just send you to him or something..wait. You're Science....." He looked at the Galaxy's crew manifest(Pre-Mirusa). "I GOT IT! They need a Chief Historian on the Galaxy. Just see the CMO Klaus Fienberg and I'm sure he can get you In like Flin with the crew."

Cain thought long and hard. "Hey, wasn't the Galaxy on the News recently? Some battle called the Battle of Havras?"

~Damnit. Damnit Damnit Damnit Damnit Damnit....~ "Eh, Why the hell not." ~Yes Yes YES YES!~

"Nice doin' business with ya. Now get the hell out of my office."

"The Right Cat For The Job"

Commander James Corgan
Chief of Security

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

Enisign Le'on Khatowren
Security Officer

It was not every day that a black-collared Intelligence officer paid a visit to the security department's officers at deck 39. Intel's presence usually meant trouble, and with the recent events on Earth with section 31, James Corgan's men watched the visitor with extra caution.

Saul Bental returned their stares , grinning triumphantly. He slouched against a bulkhead, arms folded, and waited for Commander Corgan to call him inside. If he knew how to whistle, he probably would.

Corgan, leisurly sitting in his desk, awaited Saul's arrival. He was notified in advance of Saul's meeting; in fact he looked forward to it. Leran Manev needed some sort of closure, and any he received would do.

Watching the holovid news on his screen, James reviewed the news about the Section 31 assassinations. ~"Section 31... who are they?"~ He asked himself. Section 31 wasn't very well known, even by intelligence circles. His first probes into the agency led to ghosts, nothing more. Other than a doctor named Bashir, who was lightyears away and out of contact, there was nothing that could tell him anything solid about Section 31.

He called Saul in, glad to be back to some more substantial work.

Saul paced into the security chief's officer. "Commander."

"Lieutenant Bental!" Corgan warmly greeted, shaking the intelligence officer's hand. "Glad you could make it. Please, take a seat. We can get to business."

"Surely." Saul placed a PADD on Security chief's table as soon as he settled in the chair. "Sir, this is a summary of the investigation on the Leran Manev terrorist attack. Of course, the man responsible was apprehended, but as you surely are aware, we are still trying to hunt down the mole that gave him access to the Akula."

Saul pressed twice on the PADD. "If you recall, we discussed the possible suspects in the past. Now this man, Ensign Wellsy, sent messages to Trill prior to the Akula's disappearance, making him one of two primary suspects. His corpse was found on Trill, so he's not going to tell us anything. This man over here, however... no traces of him were found near the crash site."

Sliding a PADD over James' desk, Lieutenant Bental pointed at McCauley's profile. The commander was middle-aged, black haired, possibly irish in origin. He had a devilish cast about him, as if he always had a scheme or plan. His records scrolled over the PADD rapidly as James took in all the information.

Then James checked the autopsy information about Ensign Wellsy. Detected by a fine scan of a rescue vehicle searching for survivors buried in the rubble of down buildings. What struck him as odd was that the remains consisted of cellular particles... badly burned by chemicals at that. The chemicals were not found, but the clues were there. If the rescue team wasn't scanning so strongly, the remains would have easily been overlooked. The death itself was a signature hitman disposal technique used by most alpha and beta quadrant species.

"One highly suspect death..." James hummed, "And a missing officer. So... how does this come back to us?"

Saul decided to release the bomb. "My sources tell me that Lieutenant Commander McCauley surfaced on Deep Space 5. What I would like to ask is that you provide me with a seucirty detail to help me investigate the matter - and possibly capture this scum - once we reach the station."

James stood up from his desk, "Are you kidding me? Would I help? What am I going to say to you, no? I'll even go over there myself! Tell me when you're ready, and i'll have a team pry his ass out of Deep Space 5."

Saul smiled broadly, although inside he was concerned. A large security team will probably scare McCauley off rather than increase the chances of catching him. However, Corgan WAS the senior officer, and Saul consciously put this matter in his hands. All he could do know is nod in acceptance and hope that Corgan will continue the streak of success that began with the capture of Zeke Wikkins.

But then, James added, damning himself for what he had to say, "One problem though. We would be stepping on the toes of Deep Space 5 security. They would want to arrest him. Their jurisdiction. Their call. It might be best to ask for their help."

"We would require their co-operation, but only in the final stage, after we verify that the man is indeed McCauley, and after we block all of his escape routes and contingency plans. Also, off the record, I am not sure that Admiral Proctor will handle this situation with enough... refinement. I think it would be better if we do this covertly – at first."

The stories of Admiral Proctor came to James by second account, but what he heard was disturbing. "Who do you have in mind." James said flatly.

"Now that you mention it.", Saul told the Commander, "I have the perfect officer for the job."

* * *

"What the hell does Intel want with me?" Le'on asked himself out loud for what must have been the 10th time as he walked down the corridors. He was looking over the small PADD that had been modified for his use that included the orders to report to the Security Chief's office, to attend to an Intel-related matter. One thing was certiain; whatever this Lt. Bental wanted was going to make Le'on's life intresting. It seemed that ever since Le'on came onboard the Galaxy, people here have been finding new and unusual ways to use a two foot tall Caitian.

First it was just the unusual stares, looks and assumptions that he was just a dressed up hosuecat. Then, as the crew got used to him, he was tossed down a maintenance duct in order to reach deck 10 to shut off the torpedo bay. Lord only knew what Intel had in store for him as he walked up to the door and used his retractable baton to reach the door chime.

"Come in." Corgan beckoned.

Le'on walked in and found his boss, James Corgan, talking to what he assumed to be Saul Bental. He wasted no time in hopping up to the desk and standing at attention. "Ensign Khatowren reporting as ordered, sir." he said in his thick russian accent.

On first impression, James thought the Ensign to be another gold shirt, but the ease of his walk and the baton at his side told something different. The Ensign, if new, was a professional. But would that be enough to counter the lack of experience?

"Ensign." James extended his hand in warm greeting, shaking with the Caitan, "We haven't met outside orientation. A pleasure to meet you face to face."

"A pleasure to meet you, Le'on.", Saul repeated, leaning forward. He dared not extend his arm for a shake, or sit on the floor besides the tiny Caitian as he would've if it was a child or a pet. If he wanted the Caitian's full cooperation, he didn't want to antagonize him.

"Come, take a seat. We have something very important to discuss." Corgan motioned to the second seat, directing his attention to Saul, "This is Lieutenant Saul Bental, and he wants to borrow a security officer. He specifically requested you. I assume that the recommendation is warranted, but feel free, either of you, to tell me why this particular Ensign is suited for what Lt. Bental has in mind. Take it away..."

"Basically, Le'on, we're going to hunt down a runaway criminal who is possibly guilty for the murder of thousands of people. He was successful in hiding during the past month, but finally he surfaced on Deep Space 5, our destination."

"So vhat do you need me to do?" he asked as he was handed a PADD with the target's profile on it. He looked odd sitting in a chair reading a PADD that was almost as big as he was.

"I want to hunt him down, but I need to do so covertly, without drawing attention. Let me be honest. Your small size might be invaluable in stalking and collecting data on this man without making him suspect. If I were him, I would vanish at the first sign of trouble - and with your help, he'll only realize he's in trouble when he halfway to the Galaxy's brig."

"Von't be a problem, sir." Le'on said "Vhile on leave on Earth, I passed time posing as a common alley cat all ze vhile trailing people. So should also see my scores on escape and evasion." he said with a smile, looking up from behind the PADD. "Do ve know if he likes pets?" he then asked.

Saul chuckled. He liked Le'on already.

"According to his profile... he's an all around @$$hole." James said, pulling up Le'on's file on his LCARS computer. Skimming through the ensign's records, he then came upon his testing scores at the academy, "And I would be very careful about posing as a alley cat... that undercover trick isn't exactly a new one in this century..." The display showed the Ensign's stealth, escape and evasion scores. Top percentile was an understatement... this kid was the best in his class, and way better than James ever scored, then and now (and no small feat, with James as a former sniper during the Dominion War!). "Oh my god... no question, you'll be able to stay out of the way. But this is the first big boy assignment you've received. You're untested, Ensign, so forgive me if I have my misgivings. Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I shall have him in no time at all." Le'on said. "I accept this assignment and von't let you down sir."

Corgan nodded, "Good. Confidence. That's what I want to hear... as long as that confidence isn't exaggerated. Saul, he's all yours. Take good care of him, and tell me if you need anything else."

"Nothing that I already have in my quarters." Le'on said. "How quick do we need to get him?" he asked, wondering about what kind of timetable he was looking at.

"We begin as soon as we get to Deep Space 5. We'll comb through the station, and try to deduct from his profile where we might find him. It's a big station, and McCauley has slipped through enough security barriers. Our time limit is simple - time is up as soon as either McCauley or the Galaxy depart from the station, and that might happen without warning."

Saul leaned back in his seat, interlacing his fingers behind his head. "All in all, I think it's nothing the two of us won't be able to handle. I might ask some of our fellow officers to keep their eyes open for him, but the active part of the search will be handled by you and me."

Lieutenant Bental's confidence was infectious. Corgan too had a smile on his face. Out of his desk, he paced behind it, clutching his coffee cup in his hand. "I can have a team ready if you need it. But for now... it looks like we have ourselves a mission." He raised his coffee mug in salute, "To the mission."

Saul returned the salute lazily, his smile broadening, "To the mission."

Le'on, I'm going to provide you with all the available data about McCauley and the Leran Manev attacks. I'll contact you again on our final approach vector to DS5."

Le'on merely nodded and then set off to get ready for the mission.

As soon as the he vanished out of sight, Saul finally let out a cough. And then another one.

"Are you al right, Lieutenant?", James inquired.

"Yes, but there's one difficulty in the mission which I didn't take into account."

"And that is?"

The Intelligence Officer sighed. "I'm allergic to cats, sir."

"The More I Don't Like This Universe"

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

Location: Quarters

The more James stuck his head out to get a good pulse on the universe, the more he didn't like it.

The bad news that made him want to recluse himself on an isolated colony planet was in his much-loved Federation alone. Outside its borders, as pertaining to said galactic superpower, was appalling enough as it was. Hydrans, Tr'Kith'Kin and Breen stalked their border, slavering for Federation blood and keen to get it once the Federation left was weak enough to attack. The Dominion was no longer a threat, its changelings influenced heavily by the much praised Odo and the vast majority of its Jem'Hadar veteran dead due to their accelerated aging and now replaced by inexperienced hatchlings. However, it didn't stop the idea of a rogue changeling or a bitter Vorta from turning that old threat anew. Then there was the Borg, always the Borg, that attacked at uneven intervals (there was, technically, peace with the Borg, but that was untrustworthy even by their own testimony!).

Outside threats could be defended against properly… if the state was still strong. The Federation these days was anything but.

The schism in Federation politics was nearly unassailable these days. The hawks and the doves constantly strove for supremacy, leaving the common good out of nearly every issue. Even the media adopted 'hawk' and 'dove' as a catchall for the two warring philosophies, describing the conservative, military minded, reactionary faction that seemed eager to respond quickly to foreign threats (by killing them), and the liberal mindset that wanted to return the Federation to pre-Dominion War philosophies but not doing much when people threatened them. Nevermind that both were batty to begin with. A superpower like the Federation wanted to either ignore their domestic front or weaken their foreign policy, all the while forgetting their goal to explore the universe.

The philosophical difference, which should have been minor, and best negotiated over at the political level, was not seeping its way into everyday life. President Bacco was almost shot over those differences, and it was either clamping down on security and civil rights as the hawks wanted, or giving more fuel for the dissatisfied members of the Federation an excuse to cause dissention… or even desertion. Protests and riots were now the norm, especially on high spirited Earth where the split was most evident. Races angered with the Federation's latest moves, mostly hawk motivated, wanted to split. There was talk of referendums, rebellions, riots.

In the Federation, reason gave way to reaction. Everyone seemed rash.

That was what James saw. He couldn't claim to be a careful or reasonable man all the time, but he was a thinking man, and he didn't like how the Federation was thinking these days. Even he knew the value of compromise, why didn't they? He was looking at his beloved Federation fall to pieces, being led down a wrong path that he couldn't do much about.

His first patriotic stirrings came at that moment, as he read the news, flipped through the flatvids, read the reports, and looked out the porthole of his quarters, realizing that he was part of the spearhead of Federation policy. Thinking back to their VIP, a quintessential hawk if he ever did see one, he realized that a silly decision could spark war, which Humans claimed to not enjoy. Did he want to be in another war because his politicians voted for it and the Admirals jumped into the fray, both arms swinging, without thinking about the consequences or even a modicum of aversion? Worse, did war did happen, could the Federation stay united enough to fight it? That what it looked like to James Lionel Corgan, USS Galaxy's security chief. The Federation was in trouble and he could do nothing about it. His first reactions would be ~"Good, let them rot on the vine. They couldn't reason or see reason. They deserve what they get."~ But that argument didn't solve anything. He was still a Federation citizen, and he couldn't just ignore his country while it tore itself apart.

But what could he do? He was the law enforcement of his ship, its protector, its sword and shield. It was more than busting criminals or killing alien invaders. It was also protecting the onboard inhabitants and visitors' constitutional rights. At the rate the Federation was going, Security could be turned into fascist thugs in a hurry. He as the chief had to exercise compromise daily.

Lead by example? It was a start.

But no good if he was stuck on the Galaxy while the Federation sorted its issues out.

He shut off the holovids on his LCARS monitor. He had enough of the morning news. His scrambled eggs and toast, neglected on James ponderings, was being assaulted with relish. The daily mail was short, and most of it was tackled at work. His personal communiqué's were, to say, unique. "Bill, last notice, break your kneecaps, bill, Tekri, Tekri, Tekri…" Corgan droned, at first a joke but then growing more serious.

Atole Tekri, once girlfriend and now bearer of his in vitro DNA half Romulan child, had yet to leave the ship, and was constantly updating him on the status of their child. True, James had no real claim to the child, for he didn't do the impregnating himself. But in his warped sense of honour, he thought he was responsible for the child's well being. He asked to be kept abridge on their daughter's status. He therefore created his own monster, and a way for Tekri to bring him back into her fold. James would have to tell her to desist or leave. It was already straining his relationship with his current girlfriend.

Who had her arms around his shoulders in a hurry, pecking his cheek with a kiss from behind.

"Good morning." Mika Sh'Sonora sleepily yawned, her head affectionately resting on James shoulder. James deactivated the LCARS, the name Tekri bringing a frown to her face. Mika had as much use for Tekri as an impulse drive on a starbase, her compassion the only restraint from throwing the Romulan agent and her dubious lovechild out the airlock.

James had to admire his girlfriend, for she had the patience of a saint to listen, much less endure, the dramas that went on in his own life. Her patience came first from being the servant of a demanding diplomat, then being a diplomat herself. But no longer was she in the Federation Diplomatic Corp. She was now a schoolteacher by trade, having been drummed out after the Gryphon Coalition incident. She was demure, sometimes to the point of submissiveness, gentle, and affectionate; all James ever wanted in a woman. What he needed in a woman was there too; a motivator, a keen mind, and a backbone that beguiled though who thought her soft, blue blooded girl. In her grace and beauty, the petite Andorian also brought a core of iron.

"Good morning." James tilted his head to try to kiss Mika, the concerns of his, correction, their Federation taking a second seat. She shifted her head over to his other shoulder in response. Try as he could, James couldn't land a solid kiss. She darted her head away and countered with one on his cheek. ~"Playful, isn't she?"~ James had himself to blame. Last night was dinner at Ten Forward, which might as well had been their official coming out party. Nobody on the ship knew anything concrete about his or her relationship until last night at dinner. No doubt the rumours would hit security well before he came into his first shift. It almost dampened the mood until the couple lost in each other with conversation. There James found they had plenty in common, such as disliking the public eye and preferring their free time to be filled with peace and quiet instead of people.

The holodeck was a better private venue. James activated a concert program, a pre-21'st century Santana concert. Mika was more interested in James. Come to think of it, James paid less and less attention to Santana's soothing rock rhythms (Black Magic Woman was better background music) and more to his date. She promised some Andorian music the next time they went to a holodeck concert. A promise… or a punishment? James hated Andorian music, but would bear Naussican gangbeating ditties for her.

James quarters were closer to the holodeck than Mika's, and a security chief's living space was more comfortable than that of a schoolteacher's onboard the Galaxy. It was a natural stop. But with all the food and drink, and all the time they spent on the holodeck, Mika found herself tired quickly. James took her to her quarters, where even with a few kisses stolen, she crashed on his bed. James had the couch. He was glad all the same. Mika wanted to start something more. James wanted to slow down, make the next time more explosive.

Not that he was tempted now. Her hot breath on his neck, her warm body next to his, one of his communicator berift uniform jackets more than enough to cover her turquoise skin. Her lightly accented, educated, high brow Andorian voice sounding rich in his ears. How could he not go? ~"Patience."~ James told himself. Going too fast caused a disaster in his last relationship.

Mika, however, had less patience than he. She was on his lap, winding her arm around his neck before he could protest. She wore his jacket well, showing off her legs. In some parts it wasn't completely fastened; a treat for his eyes and she knew it.

But her face showed worry. "What's wrong? You are worried?" "A little bit, Meeks." James kissed her lightly on the lips; not enough to alleviate the burden of his troubles but going a long way to helping, "Just watched the news, that's all. Our Federation isn't doing so well. That assassination attempt was a photon fuse, that's for sure. Either people have balls and no brains, or brains and no balls. And neither want to listen to the other, because a person with balls pushes others around and a person with brains doesn't stand up for themselves. What happened to people that had balls and brains?" "You mean like James Kirk, your namesake?" Mika asked.

"Yes…" Nodded James. "James T. Kirk. That man when to fight and when to make peace. What happened to people like him?" "Well…" She told him, tracing a line up and down his chest, "We had decades of peace… then the war broke out… and then we had people who know nothing but fighting, and people who wanted peace back… but both don't see that they need each other. Anyone close to James T. Kirk's legacy is either too foolish, like Commodore Brhode, or still in security protecting starships."

"Oh?" James asked quizzically, "That would be me?" She smiled mirthfully, "Mmmmm hmmm."

James made a mocking, southern sheriff tone that rang of face authority, "Why missy, that there's dangerous talk in these here troubled times. This here sheriff of these here parts is this here protector if this here starship." The repetitive statement brought giggles from Mika, "Can't put this square peg into a round hole now, y'hear missy? Brass says I can't lead, only fight and protect, and that I intend to deedy do, missy. Any designs of my own could lead to insubordination, and we can't have that, can we?"

"Oh yes we can!" Mika shook her head, laughing.

"Well… I suppose for a second I can think for myself." James jested, "Where should I start?"

"You can start…" She vamped up her voice. More of her Andorian accent slipped through as she squeaked, "By getting me off before I have to dress and get ready for my first class."

That statement most certainly caught James' attention, and awoke another part of him that wanted in on the fun. He lifted Mika, himself and his little buddy off the chair. "Oh, is that it? That's all? And here I thought you were going to ask me to spit latinum."

"I'll ask for a lot, Dear James. I want your best effort and then some." James hefted Mika onto his couch, laying her down gently like a ming vase. She was warm to the touch, inviting him with bared skin and a smile as warm as Terra's sunshine. At that moment, the one that seemed so right, his promise to wait felt distant and unimportant. He leaned over for the final kiss to set the event off, her laughs dissipated as she leaned in and closed her eyes.

Their lips were about to brush when James was saved (or was he screwed?) by the bell.

=/\="Captain M'Kantu to Commander Corgan. Please report to the ready room. M'Kantu out."=/\=

The Captain's summons snuffed their fires out better than their self control. In a huff of frustration, Mika tapped James comm.-badge. James replied, "Commander Corgan. I'll be there right away. Over and out."

He had to get off from on top of his girlfriend, as comfortable and inviting as she was, and strapped a phaser and holster to his ankle, hiking down the leg to conceal the weapon.

"It could not wait five minute?" Mika asked.

James had to truthfully respond, though he wished he hadn't have to do it now, "I'm sorry, Mika. Duty calls. As long as we're together, I'll always be on call, twenty four hours a day. It is not easy, but for my job… it is reality." Mika was wounded and hurt. James tried to remedy this with a good bye kiss, a long and deep sharing of affection that was all he could afford to steal at the minute. She didn't complain, but it did far from smooth over her hurt. Could James blame her? She was ready, he was ready, they both wanted to spend more time together, but duty always came between them.

"I'll make it up to you, Mika. I promise." James said as he fled from the door, ~"How many other times will I have to say that to her, and will I ever be able to pay her back? The more I don't like this universe, putting me in this situation."

"Echoes"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

[with reference to "Haunted"]

A sigh signified part of his work was done while another was only beginning. As he regarded the properly ordered shelf in his new office, Brian pondered how everything was now in its place and as it should be. He smirked to himself as he turned back toward the ample desk beside him, stopping to look around the room once more before sitting.

The thought extended beyond mere books and decorative items on a shelf.

Only four years ago he had an office in this same counseling suite. Like the ship as a whole, this office was a little larger, its furnishings a little newer. So different yet so much the same it all was. Brian knew the offices, the corridors, the quarters; that part of returning to the Galaxy was very much like returning home. Yet many people he knew from those days in his first assignment as a counselor were no longer around even though, for him, something of their presence remained Navarre Shinta, Curtis Geluf, Alia Drakely, . . . Captain Price. The names swirled around in his mind as if he had just seen them here yesterday. Aside from Karyn, there was no longer anyone he knew here. The homecoming metaphor stopped suddenly short of the home's current occupants.

Enough reminiscing, enough indulging in memories and comparisons. It was time to settle back in to the routine of the Starfleet counselor. Seating himself in front of the latest terminal to be his eyes into the vast collection of neuroses, psychoses, and other assessments that only a starship of this size could create, Elessidil entered some commands and started in on mountain of reading he had before him.

~Please help me . . . I'm still here. Help me . . .~

The counselor jerked his head up from his desk, bleary-eyed and feeling somewhat dazed. "Wha- . . ." Several hours had passed and Brian realized that he had dozed off somewhere in the midst of reviewing senior staff profiles. With gentle pressure, the Betazoid put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. What had he been dreaming?

No matter. It was a good thing he awoke when he did, otherwise a lot of potentially productive time would have been lost to useless slumber.

~Please help me . . . I'm still here. Help me.~

A chill ran down Brian's spine. He most definitely was not dreaming now.

Standing up from his chair, the counselor decided maybe his tiredness was more significant than he realized. A dull ache throbbed beneath his temples, and he felt stiff. Maybe sleep would a good idea after all.

Or at least so he thought, until he heard the voice a third time: ~Please help me . . . I'm still here. Help me.~

It wasn't a dream after all, and he was reasonably certain he wasn't hallucinating. Not sure what to think, Brian considered the possibility that this was something very real. Or someone very real . . . someone who needed help. But where were they? Who were they?

Leaning with both hands on his desk, the strong telepath focused his mind and with silent, invisible tendrils, reached out as far as he could . . .

~Are you still there? Who are you? Where are you?~

Brian anxiously waited for something to prove this really wasn't all just in his head . . . .

"Who are YOU to tell me...."

  Nara

Samantha

Branwen

***Corridors of the USS Galaxy***

  "Surely you have some issues with your new charge that you want to address." Sam said. "Your rigid control over her or failure to allow for artistic freedom, for instance. Come on! Therapy is great for the family!"

Nara looked at the young woman with her arms crossed and a look across from amusement and annoyance on her face. Once again, it was a hallway meeting and once again, she wished she had passed by a moment before or later.

"Saia and I are fine and I already have someone."

"Branwen's better." Samantha said with confidence. "And besides, don't you believe in sponsoring the youth of this ship? This would certainly help me become a well rounded individual."

Nara rolled her eyes, "Branwen is my roommate, and I'm sure she's very capable, but she and I already discussed this. It was agreed that it would be too awkward to be roommate and I her patient at the same time."

Samantha frowned. "Yes, I suppose that would be unethical. I don't suppose you could do it just this once though?"

Nara glared at her making her answer clear.

"Well, smeg." Samantha said grumpily.

Sam waved her off like an empress. "Not to worry, I'll find *someone* who I can make participate. Thanks for the chat, Nara. I'd like to say that you were helpful but condsidering..." And she spun on her heel, calling after the officer that had just passed them.

"Why do you need someone so badly?" Nara went after her, "Leave him alone."

She looked at the man, "Run now. It's a trap."

Samantha pouted as the man did run off. "Now why'd you have to go and startle the fish for?"

"Cuz you would skin him alive, and that's not nice."

"I want to sit in on a counseling session." Sam said honestly. "I mean, textbooks are fine and all but I want to really *see* how it works. And one session isn't going to cut it, no matter how well Paulo's went."

"And why should I do something as a favor to you? You're never nice to anyone."

"I am too!"

"You're only nice when you want something. Name one time you were nice to anyone without wanting them to give you anything or do anything for you."

Samantha thought about it. Then she thought some more. Finally, she had to ask Nara whether it was a timed answer.

Nara just looked at her. "You decide."

"Don't help me then." Sam shrugged. "I'm certainly not going to beg. Arel AND Mummy don't approve of begging. I'll just find someone else and if I don't, well, it certainly won't bother you if someday I'm living besides a garbage disposal, destitute, starving, probably having long since sold myself for something to eat... all because you wouldn't help me with my homework."

Nara sighed, "Fine! Not because I fell for that lame guilt trip, but because I don't want anyone else to be subjected to such torture." She started walking, "Come on. Let's get this over with."

***

"I got another one." Samantha announced as she entered the room. "Business is booming huh?"

Branwen looked up from her work.  "Another one, Samantha I thought we had agreed on one.  So who did you find this time?"

Nara shrugged, "I'm doing this for the good of the ship. Sooner she found someone, sooner she's out of the hall and out of everyone's hair."

"Nara!" Bran squeeked. "I can't counsel you. You know that."

"Aw, com'on Bran." Samantha whinned.

"She is my room mate, Samantha." And boyfriend stealer she thought. Her feelings about Nara were so tangled right now. "It would be totally unethical."

"Ethics! Bah!" Sam said, throwing up her hands. "If every species has their own idea of what ethics is, and since this universe is pretty full of species, then how can we ever have a clear understanding of what is and what is not ethical. Besides, I had to tell the dumpster story to get her to come here."

"Samantha, I thought you had learnt something finally. My profession has universal standards, and if I don't still to them I lose my licence. I cannot council Nara, Sam."

Samantha frowned for a half of a second before her face lighted up. "Well, then let *me* counsel her. You can sit here and let me know if I'm doing it right."

"Sam. You have no training. I am sure Nara would not want that."

Nara cocked her head and a mischevious grin crossed her face. She looked at Bran hoping she caught the idea she had, "No, it's ok. Commander Dallas can't see me till next week, and there's really something I need to get off my chest."

"Really?!" Sam exclaimed. 

"Nara I really..." Then she was interrupted.

Nara sat and sighed, feigning dispair. "You see, I have been having these horrible nightmares."

Finally Bran caught on, Nara was having her on for Sam's sake. They were going to do a play, no real therapy.

"Allright, allright, tell me about it."

"Well, I dream I see this huge dog. He's eating a chicken head. The body of the chicken is running around!" Nara had to try very hard not to laugh.

“Hmmm.” Bran looked serious. “And what do you think this stands for yourself.”

"I should eat more chicken heads while running around like a chicken without a head?" Nara put on her best distraught expression.

“Hmmmm.” Bran said. “This is serious Nara. You need long and deep psycho- analysis. The old way Freud did it with a couch, maybe every day for a while. I think I should tell commander Dallas how serious your situation is.’ All the while she was biting her lip.

Nara's jaw tightened and nostrils flairs as she fought the urge to smile and laugh, "If you think that's best."

“Yes, and don’t worry. The commander will help you and give you some nice medication as well to make the nasty dreams go away.”

Nara looked at Sam, "Please don't tell ANYONE about this."

Sam nodded eagerly. "Oh, I won't. Cross my heart."

“Except for Commander Dallas I won’t. And neither will Samantha. She promised, and I hope she realizes how serious this is.”

Nara nearly choked when she said "serious." She gulped, "Of course. Thank you."

"I think you're on the road to serious recovery." Samantha offered. It sounded a therapy thing to say.

Nara stood and left the room and when she was a good way, she let out a laugh that made some passerby look at her as if she were crazy.

"Concerns, Betray, and Other Truths"

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer, USS Galaxy
Strategic Operations Officer, Hydran Sector Handler, Starfleet Intelligence

Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin,
Chief Intelligence Officer

****

Main Conference Room,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy

Cass watch the meeting break up from his vantage point at the wrong end of the table. He took some notes on a padd as the other department heads exited, mostly about the amount of arguement that had happened and the lack of knowledge about which departments were supposed to do what. As he finished his notes, he decided that it was good that most starship captains had briefings like these. If they didn't everyone would wind up going in different directions, and people would be killed.

He was about to pick up and leave for his next meeting when Cora Dobryin asked him if he had time to talk to her. Of course, it had to be about Saul. That kid was going to be more trouble than he was worth. Glancing at his schedule, he noted that he had half an hour before his next appointment, this time a holo-conference with Admiral Valerian, in his capacity as the Strategic Operations Officer for Hydran Sector, of which Valerian was in command. . "Yeah, I can give you fifteen minutes," he said, since he needed to get down to his quarters and prepare initial assessment report for Valerian. "What's up?"

"As you can guess part of it has to do with one person who doesnt' have a right to tell me how to do my job or shoot down my ideas," Cora responed. "Which also brings up some major questions. I'm the Intelligence Chief aboard this ship. I have deparment under my commnad and we're not here to sit on our behinds and look pretty. So what are we doing here if Bental isn't out of the Intelligence business, he's head of Tactical now and he never was the Intelligence Chief on this ship. To sum it all up I'm not here to play it safe and neither are my staff yet everytime I try to do my job and do it the way it was designed to be carried out I run into obstacles. " She paused. "Let me state Commander that I'll abide by your decision you're the only one who has authority to tell me its not the right time, but let me emphaize I'm not here to let things get distorted or destroyed while other deem it safe to head over to a hositle situtation. Heck my training was designed to teach me to operate in uncertain, even dangerous environments."

"Whoa... slow down, Cora," Cass said, a little surprised by the sudden torrent of words coming from the usually quiet intelligence chief. "Why don't we break this up into different parts and handle them one by one. Let's start by resolving the chain of command issues with Saul, then move on to talking about Saul himself. After that, we'll finish up with what the Intelligence team her is supposed to do and not supposed to do. Amenable?"

"Yeah," Cora agredd she clearly wasnt' happy about the way things had been going for her and her department recently.

"Okay. Here's how this works. As you and I both know, Lieutenant Bental isn't very good at dealing with chain of command issues," Cass reasoned. But then again, Saul believes that he's good enough at working the system that he can get out of most of them. "But the fact of the matter is that he *is* very good at what he does. With most of our upper leadership recently exposed as traitors to the Federation, SFI needs as many reasonably loyal operatives as we can get."

"Now, the good thing about that fact is that due to the removal of Admiral Illyanovitch as director, I now have a much more free hand in helping you build your department the way you like it," he continued carefully. "And that's why we transferred Saul to tactical. You and I both know that there's something about him that's more than meets the eye. This move will allow me to keep a much closer eye on him, and will keep him out of your hair. Now then, your complaints about Saul as a person are what?"

Cora thought about it, "That makes sense there is someting very not right about him. As for the person where does he get off telling me what I can or can't do and what's not a good idea. We may all be entitled to our opinions but that crossed the line into something only you or the Captain have the authority to tell me. I have not forgotten the safety of the ship is top priority..in fact thats exactly why I don't want us running on this thing blind or with bad Intelligence. Only then will be truly be able to keep this ship safe."

"I think that in this case you may be overreacting. I don't think that Lieutenant Bental was looking to quash your idea, simply to offer a counterpoint. That is rather the point of senior staff briefings," Cass said dryly. He paused for a moment, debating what to say next. Finally, he reached a decision. "Cora, let me level with you. Have you ever wondered why you're a lieutenant junior grade in command of the intelligence department on the flagship of the 5th Fleet - with an older and more experienced agent on the same vessel?

"My earlier comments about this job apply just as appropriatedly for within as they do for any exterior influence on the ship," she paused, "Yes I have wondered that more than once. And either I've screwed up and no one has bothered to tell me or they're grooming me for something more and haven't seen fit to divulge that yet. Those are the only two things I can surmise about this arrangement."

"Illyanovitch, traitorous bastard that he was, was of the opinion that you weren't of the right temperament for the job," Cass explained, finally. "That's why it took you seven years to become a Lieutenant JG. Illyanovitch had one of his assistant directors watching the department heads. When you arrived here from the Pallas Athena and Captain M'Kantu offered you the job, Illyanovitch was put into a bad position, because if he denied the request it was going to seem odd. However, he had an ace int he hole. Me. He knew that I was returning to work for SFI, so he allowed you into the job on the condition that I keep an eye on your progress. The problem of course being that Bental, who has proven adept at manipulating others to gain useful information, somehow got word of the Director's lack of confidence, which I think is a large part of why he ignores your position."

"I don't deserve this I've worked my butt off to get here and I do it everyday defending this hsip or any ship I serve on. Bental had more problems than just disrespecting by positon but that last part has to stop or the day I expose him for what he' really is will be the best in my career so far because it means I'll have proven myself to more than just the Galaxy, " Cora was well an truly hurt and upset by that recent reveleation but she'd get over it. In the end it would make her a better Intelligence Officer. "You don't make it past day one of evaluation for Intel training if they can't find the right temperment and something more. So now what? I'm not here to be stuck in a dead end career or having a clearly unnecessary watch dog for all of it."

"Cora, the fact of the matter is that in Intelligence work, you have to get used to betrayal. It is a fact of life. But the good news is this," Cass said carefully. Hopefully the revelation would do what he hoped and motivate Dobryin to realize her full potential. Moving Bental out of her way would help that too. "As you well know, Admiral Illyanovitch was recently turned into a vegetable and exposed as a member of Section 31. That means that there are changes going on upstairs - changes that are more favorable to you."

"Intelligence is being reorganized by our new director, Admiral Batanides, and she doesn't agree with Illyanovitch's lack of faith in you," Cass paused, then added, "And for that matter, neither do I. Which means that I'll continue to do my job, which will occassionally involve your department, and you should have a much more free hand to do yours. Now then, that brings us to the last question - what does the Intelligence department do and not do, correct?"

"I'm not saying I didn't now betrayal went wtih the territory. Its something I know all too well however you usually make it past training before it sets in," Cora replied sincerely, "You as well as anyone Sir should know I didn't stick with it only to fail. Not due to that traitor Illyanovitch nor by Bental. I'm also not saying you don't belong here Commander because you do. Yes no onto the last part of my problem here and that has to do with the question you just asked. Maybe it goes beyond that because people seem to think we can't handle ourselves with its really needed and waiting hampers us from properly doing our job. We're not strictly analysts Sir."

"As I well understand. I was, after all, the man who commanded Intelligence Team Six during the Dominion War," Cass replied. "However, for the purpose of a shipboard department, you are for the most part analysts. You organize and supply us with the information that the operatives bring in. In some ways, your department is the lifeblood of this ship." "And that doesn't mean that you won't be given assignments that aren't analytical." he replied. "In fact, I need to see you in my office later today about something similar. Contact my yeoman, Petty Officer Dane'erie. She'll set it up for you." "I'll do that Commander. It would a perfectly good waste of training to spend my entire career on analytical assignments," Cora replied with a slight smile. "As you said we need good operative particularly now. These are after all perilous times."

"As the past few weeks should more than prove," Cass agreed, then gathered his things for me. "Well, I really can't afford to keep Admiral Valerian waiting, so I'm going to go prep for my conference with him. But I will be seeing you soon regarding your assignment." : Cora nodded then paused briefly before she turend to leave, "Thank you Sir and I'll be there."

"Good. And one more thing, Lieutenant," Cass said over his shoulder on his way out of the conference room. "Try not to feel slighted over the Hazard Team thing. That's what they're there for. They're given special training to enter zones where don't have a clear intelligence picture, and where the mission objectives are more explorational than intelligence gathering. So in this type of circumstance, the decision will always be for the Hazard Team to be the first onto the field."

"Thats isn't whats bothering me most Sir. I know its their job," Cora responsed as she followed him out of the conference room. More than anything she wanted to well a truly prove herself and she knew that wouldn't happen just sorting through data to come up with a solid analysis.

"Very good," Cass nodded respectfully to her. "Thank you for coming to me about this, Cora. It's a lot better than letting it fester and bother you further. Now then, I'm out."

"Allergies?"

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief

PO2 Vincent Williams, Operations Yeoman (NPC)

Location: Ops Center, Deck 9

Lieutenant JG Tarin strode out of the turbolift and into the Ops Center with a purpose. What that particular purpose could have been was anyone's guess, but knowing the Chief it most likely had to do with the continued presence of Olivia Proctor on board.

Being the Chief of Operations definitely had its irritating moments, but it did come with some good perks. And one of those perks was the ability to transfer personnel around between shifts and locations if she deemed it necessary. And in this case, she most definitely did.

Iniara had quickly realized that 'Livia Proctor ended up on the Bridge more often than she did in the Ops Center. So, she had rearranged several members of her staff, mostly Vulcans, figuring that they could keep their sanity far better than she herself could in the same circumstances. She felt bad for doing it, but it was better than getting court martialed for beating the hell out of a flag officer.

So she had pretty much sequestered herself in Ops. With their lack of staff it often meant she was spending sixteen or eighteen hours a day on Deck Nine. It might have been boring and monotonous, but she was definitely getting a lot more work done because of it.

"Welcome back, sir." The voice of her yeoman, Petty Officer Second Class Vincent Willams, cut through the Chief's thoughts. She stopped dead in her tracks, one foot still halfway in the air, and changed direction a bit to intercept the man.

"Anything for me, Vince?" she asked, looking up into the much taller human's dark eyes.

"Plenty," he replied, pulling out a stack of PADDs.

"The latest requests from Admiral Proctor and her staff," he held out a PADD, "personnel reassignments, a few room reassignments that for some reason need your approval," he continued, unloading a few more PADDs. "Resource requests from Science and Engineering..."

"Can't T'Rehn handle that?" Iniara asked, referring to one of her many Vulcan subordinates she had temporarily assigned to Bridge duty.

Vince shrugged before continuing. "Some information on the starfighter that was recovered earlier." He handed the last PADD over, then clasped his arms loosely behind him.

Iniara's eyebrow quirked up as she skimmed the report, thinking back to when they had discovered the craft floating listlessly in space. Although she wasn't directly involved in the investigation of the starfighter, it was still standard procedure for all senior staff to be informed of any new information in cases such as this.

"We'll need to run a diagnostic on all transporter systems," she said after a moment, more to herself than anything. "Especially the biofilters." The report didn't say anything about medical anomalies in the two recovered personnel, so naturally she assumed the problem might lie in the transporters themselves.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Williams asked politely.

Iniara opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Without warning her throat suddenly became very tight. A wave of blackness washed over her and she staggered backwards, clutching at her throat. The stack of PADDs clattered noisily to the ground.

"Sir?" Williams lunged forward, barely catching his superior by the arms before she fell over. He guided her over to a nearby chair and knelt down in front of her, his face full of concern.

Iniara's heartbeat was racing and her vision was beginning to blur. She gulped down a few deep breaths, trying hard to calm herself. A few moments later she was able to speak again.

"What in the..." was all she managed to get out. Then she began to sneeze.

Reflexively, Yeoman Williams backed off. After her sixth consecutive sneeze he began to count them. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.

"Sir?" he repeated. Twelve. Thirteen.

"Don't ask." Fourteen. "I don't--" Fifteen. "Know." Sixteen.

Williams did the only thing he could think to do when confronted by a sneezing Bajoran woman. He walked over to the nearest replicator and ordered a bowl of makara herb.

Iniara snatched the bowl from his hand as he offered it to her. She grabbed a handful of the bitter leaves and stuffed them in her mouth, desperately trying to chew them without sneezing. She swallowed hard, then repeated the process with yet another handful.

Iniara wasn't as lucky with the second batch, and managed to spray several half-chewed leaves all over the floor in front of her. The sneezing turned to laughing as she realized how absurd she must look. Her face turned beet red.

Williams fidgeted a bit, clearly unsure how to proceed. After a long silence he spoke up. "I have no idea what just happened."

"Neither do I, Vince; neither do I." Iniara set the bowl aside. "I am not pregnant, I swear. That shouldn't have worked."

"But it did."

"Yeah. I don't know. Allergies?" She was about to say something further when her commbadge beeped, summoning her to the Conference Lounge for a briefing. "Perfect timing," she muttered.

"I'll, ah, get this cleaned up," Vince commented, already moving to pick up the PADDs.

"Thanks," Iniara replied, standing and quickly exiting. Halfway to the turbolift she was hit with a wave of nausea, followed closely by the feeling of blackness again. She stumbled into the turbolift, colliding with the wall.

This is very bizarre, she thought. She briefly considered heading to Sickbay. But the Admiral would be at the briefing, and Iniara knew she would catch hell if she skipped out on it. So, as the doors to the lift closed she straightened her posture, tugged her uniform jacket back into place, and calmed her facial expression. When she was ready, she called out her destination. "Deck One."

As the lift sped to its destination, Iniara wondered just what was going on.

"Setting up the Board" - Part I

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, Deep Space 5-Incumbent
Vice-Legate Kylar Curran, Chief Federation Officer
Commander Cass Henderson, XO/Strategic Ops Officer (Hydran Sector)
Commander Karyn Dallas, Second Officer/Chief Counselor
Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb, Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Manager
Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Lt. JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigator
Lt. JG 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer
2nd Lieutenant Branwen London, Acting CO, Furies
Major Corran Rex (via in-flight visual), CO, Vanguard Squadron

****

Deck 1
Main Conference Lounge
USS Galaxy

As the four officers entered the immense room, Proctor slid her box figure into M'Kantu's seat at the head of the table with deadest determination. Daren's face twisted into an expression of intolerance, but reminded himself that the faster the situation is dealt with, the sooner she gets off his ship. There would be little achieved with arguing over a chair. So he took up the seat to her right, at the point of the curve so that he could see down the table with ease.

Behind him, Saul Bental still seemed to be distracted. He slowed down momentarily, allowing 8-Ball to catch up.

"Congrats.", He whispered in her direction, "Class of '78 taking over the Galaxy, eh?"

"Yeah," 8-ball said vaguely. The nausea was completely gone now, but she still felt just slightly light-headed. She had been worried about being able

to focus during staff meetings BEFORE she got all dizzy and weird. She smiled with effort and whispered back, "Just wait till it's Admiral "Hot Shot" Hunter and Captain "Sly, Smooth" Bental. We'll take over the whole universe."

Kylar Curran was the first of the called personnel to arrive, and taking notice of the seating arrangement with Proctor at the head as an un-necessary show of power on her part, he arranged himself into position opposite M'Kantu. He pointedly ignored the newly-minted Vulcan Science Chief, considering he didn't approve of her aptitude and gender in a power position. He churned the logistics through the methodical check-and-balance system he employed, and found that the idea of having seven of the thirteen department positions available staffed with the female gender was only an even further sign of the degradation of Starfleet.

Women were illogical, emotional, and lacked strength. They were a liability. Having Proctor in the room only confirmed his disadvantage; therefore, he elected to not engage in wasteful dialogue unless called upon.

Branwen was very early. Her heart was pounding in her throat to be here with all these senior officers. She so not wanted to be here, and she found a seat as far away from the brass as possible. Bran sat down after a mumbled welcome.

Across the table, someone else's heart was pounding as well. Saul haven't spoken with Branwen ever since that fateful meeting hours after they returned from Mirusa. He didn't even know if she knew he and Nara decided to try despite everything that happened. And he didn't want to be the one telling her.

A knight betraying the lady's trust - how low he has fallen.

He turned his eyes toward the door before Bran would notice him, immediately catching sight of an unfamiliar face.

Corgan arrived at the meeting just before Bental's off cuff comment. A tad bit cocky by his tastes; he was from the class of 75, and rushed at straight to the Dominion War frontlines at that. There were not many of his class that could claim to 'take over'.

He too was feeling the strain of this mission, even more so with an Admiral breathing down his throat. It was all kinds of hell on his officers who were pulling VIP duty, as well as staying antsy, being so close to the Hydran border. And as of late, that same admiral, also a hawk, put the ship and her crew in great danger over Mirusa VI.

She could be cheered for her efforts. Many officers from the war were hawks too. But James wasn't one of them. To him, she was a prime example of a hawk with more eagerness than brains. Either way, hawk or human, they both had a habit of smacking into transparent surfaces at night by mistake.

Micaelah Rabb, Chief Medical Officer and a relatively new arrival to the Galaxy, entered the observation lounge with a grin playing about her face. It was as near to a fact of life as life itself that the moment Mike Rabb stopped smiling Armageddon was nigh. The petite doctor claimed a seat about midway down the table, nodding at the others with a genial, "Howdy y'all!"

The CMO was rather worried at the moment, despite the grin, about the various reports of nausea, 'darkness', and dizzy spells that was starting to reach epidemic portions amongst the heavily psi-active species. She, herself, despite her insistence on living as a human only was feeling a tinge of dizziness and one or two instances of her vision going dark. Through her bond with her husband, she knew he, too, was suffering strange symptoms. She could only hope that this meeting might shed some light on the matter.

Given that this was to be the first meeting of the senior staff that he'd attended since his promotion to Chief Navigation Officer, Miramon had made a point of getting there on time, since it would never do to be late to a meeting after he'd just been promoted and given command of a department. After all, if he couldn't even make it on time to something on his own schedule, I bet the command staff would have to wonder how the hell he was supposed to organize schedules for the pilots under his supervision.

He'd only seen the briefing room a few times, when he'd been summoned in to hand over a report to Jeremy, or drop something in to the one of the staff when they were having their briefings. To actually get to sit down and listen to the others run across their proposals for the mission's proceedings was quite a new experience, so he wanted to make sure he was ready for it.

As he stepped in, he nodded awkwardly to the officers currently in the room, not quite sure what he should be doing. Normally the 32-year-old was not the type of be worried or intimidated by much - most of the time he was downright nonchalant about such things, but this was a completely new situation for him. He smiled nervously, then looked around for an appropriate seat to sit down in - a bit far away from the Captain, though, since he was one of the lower-ranked officers in the room, so protocol demanded such. That was especially important with an Admiral aboard - okay, he didn't like her from what he had seen of her when he was on duty on the Bridge, but she still outranked him by a long way - also one of the reasons he didn't like her attitude. Still, best to keep his mouth shut.

An elbow made contact with Miramon's ribs. He looked to his left sharply, trying to identify who was the rude - or careless - senior officer.

Only then he realized that he was sitting next to Saul. The Intelligence officer - now wearing a red uniform which seemed unnatural on him - smirked at Miramon.

The Bajoran grinned in amusement at seeing his friend sitting on his left. When he'd been promoted, Miramon simply added a half pip to his own red uniform, but for Saul, he'd been promoted and changed department as he did so. He was used to seeing the human dressed completely in black, so the addition of color had an unusual effect on the ex-Intel officer. He didn't say anything, but winked at the human in a friendly manner. They'd talk later over their normal dinner.

When the doors parted quietly just after Miramon. The form of Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea walked in. Giving a nod to Kylar, Branwen, Rabb and the Saul, she moved toward a chair and slid it out. "Captain." She said, acknowledging him as she sat down. Leaning back slightly, she reached up and covertly tucked a piece of hair back to keep it from tickling her neck. Anna then looked toward the woman sitting at the head of the table. ~Oh god, what is that woman doing here?~ Anna wondered to herself.

Considering the number of people in the room, Miramon had expected a lot more conversation than was present at the table. Since the Captain hadn't indicated that the briefing had begun, you'd have assumed that people would be chattier, indulging in the opportunity to talk to people who they might not often get chance to discuss things with, given that everyone worked different shifts and had their own departments to handle in the meantime. He'd rarely seen the Captain or command staff leaving this room in sullen silence, and he doubted it was any different during the actual briefing. There could only be one reason for the tension in the room, and the majority of it was no doubt the result of the pompous woman sitting in the Captain's chair. That probably hadn't gone down too well with the Captain sitting in a chair that wasn't his own (maybe his chair had extra padding?).

As always Cora was more than on time for the staff meeting. She took a seat and noted the other woman sitting in the Captain's chair. For the moment her attention however was focused on the briefing ahead.

"Well..." Anna said as if trying to lighten the mood. "I guess now is as good as time to tell you all." She said, looking around wondering if she had just left her mind in engineering. "The rumors are true... I'm getting married and no, not to Senator Ramir Omar of Romulus." She said. "I know that it's not very appropriate to announce this right now, but it's way too hard to get all you people together at one time. Begging the Captain's forgiveness, I'll just announce it now." Anna said, then looked up and smiled, showing the young woman more approachable then the rumors gave her credit for.

M'Kantu was bemused at the unexpected news. Before Proctor could ruin the moment, he let himself smile slightly at the announcement.

James Corgan nearly gagged at the news. ~"That conniving skunk?! What the hell is that woman thinking?!?!"~ His dealings with the Ambassador and his ex-girlfriend, the assassin agent Atole Tekri, soured his opinion of Omar greatly.

8-ball raised an eyebrow at the pronouncement. She hadn't expected anything as prosaic as a marriage annoucement at a staff meeting. 8-ball had sort of imagined a room full of very serious looking people going, "It's the end of the world again; how are we stopping it this time?" The atmosphere in the room was tense but not nearly as armaggedon-style as she would have expected.

~Maybe I can stand up and announce that Himne and I are back together~ 8-ball thought. She wisely decided against it.

Curran shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Marriages on Starfleet craft were not something he had gotten used to, nor would he. It put too much emphasis on personal safety than on one's duty to the Federation. It forced people to make decisions based on personal needs rather than to the larger picture.

"Congratulations are in order, then, 'Commander. It is unfortunate you had to share your elations during this period of investigation. It defeats the positive and congratulatory nature this news would normally produce - and should - for you over an extended period of time. Nevertheless, I do wish you well, and we'll talk more of it after this issue with Deep Space 5 is resolved."

Anna looked toward M'Kantu and give a slight nod. When he said, they'd talk Anna instantly wondered if that was good thing or not. Considering that he had to know who she was engaged to she knew there would be certain question. Anna was ready to answer them.... at a later date.

Proctor issued a curt nod, curling her lip in gruff response to M'Kantu's ending the topic. This was not the time to be happy-friendly with the locals. This was about HER and HER station. She rolled her fingers in a tapping motion, baby finger to fore. Drrrrrit! Drrrrrit!

"Setting up the Board" - Part II

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, Deep Space 5-Incumbent
Vice-Legate Kylar Curran, Chief Federation Officer
Commander Cass Henderson, XO/Strategic Ops Officer (Hydran Sector)
Commander Karyn Dallas, Second Officer/Chief Counselor
Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb, Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Manager
Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Lt. JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigator
Lt. JG 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer
2nd Lieutenant Branwen London, Acting CO, Furies
Major Corran Rex (via in-flight visual), CO, Vanguard Squadron

****

Deck 1
Main Conference Lounge
USS Galaxy

Karyn Dallas was the next to enter the room, her gravchair making virtually no noise as it hovered over the carpet. She smiled wanly, but was clearly distracted by thoughts of the two passengers they'd picked up still resting in sickbay.

The Vice-Legate glared sharply at the Second Officer, burning holes in her as she floated in on her cushioned lazychair. Why she was still here was a mystery. Why can't she go back to Earth and be useless there?

As a veteran of these senior staff briefings, Dallas hardly got nervous anymore, but with this meeting she felt the twinge of butterflies in her stomach.

With Henderson's assignment as Strategic Operations Officer for Hydran Sector, she was shouldering more duties than ever before, and with that came additional pressure surrounding command. The Admiral's presence, and subsequent choice of seat, intrigued her and was certainly telling, but outwardly she showed no indication of her surprise or concern.

Before taking her seat to the Captain's right, Karyn smiled to London, who looked positively petrified. Karyn could empathize and she tried to retrieve memories of her own time aboard another Galaxy as the young officer. It truly seemed like another life altogether.

Drrrrrit! Drrrrrit!

She'd wanted to say something to the new faces, to put everyone at ease, especially in the presence of Proctor, but she was too distracted and didn't feel like putting on a happy face just then. She offered a curt nod to the new Chief Medical Officer and looked forward to speaking to her under better circumstances after the meeting.

From the cockpit of Vanguard One, Corran's gloved hand thumbed the communications toggle that showed a camera view of the Observation Lounge. With another, he activated the audio pickup. ["Rex here, Captain. I'm all ready."]

The Vanguards were flying CAP - an old acronym meaning Combat Air Patrol - and doing a visual inspection of Deep Space Five and much of the debris fields. By no means did that mean Corran couldn't participate in the briefing - it just meant he didn't have to actually look at Proctor's face, or even be remotely near her.

The Trill rather liked that part of things.

Drrrrrit! Drrrrrit!

Tarin Iniara was one of the last officers to arrive. If it were possible, the normally reserved officer seemed even more subdued. Her face was nearly colorless and her lips were pressed together in a tight, almost white line. With barely a glance toward any of the other occupants of the room she took a seat at the far end of the table.

Cass Henderson arrived last, which was completely uncharacteristic for him. He stepped in through the door just after the last senior staff member and paused to look around the table. His usually unreadable features formed into an unusually clear frown at the site of Rear Admiral Proctor at the head of the table. If it was possible, the frown became more clear when he saw Legate Curran in *his* seat. He quickly schooled his expression back to its usual hint of a smile and took a seat, at the far end of the table, opposite Admiral Proctor.

He nodded briefly at Saul Bental and Cora Dobryin, the two department heads nominally under his command, then addressed Captain M'Kantu and their unwanted guest. "My deepest apologies, sir, ma'am. My teleconference with Admiral Abrik ran late. The Security Advisor wanted to be clear that I understood what President Ba.."

"Now that we're all here-" 'Livia Proctor, the box-like shaped woman who had taken the Captain's place at the head of the table, cut him off by thumping her left hand down resolutely on the tabletop, startling everyone with the obtrusive noise.

Cass politely refrained from glaring.

James had no such scruples. ~"F**king toy soldier."~

["Idiot."] Corran muttered under his breath, belatedly realizing that the comm would relay his voice at normal volume.

"Excuse me, Major?" came Proctor's indignant voice back over his comm channel, and Corran winced as he through fast.

["Sorry, Admiral - didn't mean you. There's a Klingon shuttlecraft out here that looks like it tried to play tag with an NT-Class freighter. It smeared itself all over one of the cargo containers. I was talking about him."] the fighter pilot replied quickly. He didn't know if Proctor bought it - didn't care, really.

8-ball instantly grinned, and quickly covered her mouth. She did not need Proctor to be screaming at her. In fact, it would be quite dandy if Proctor didn't even realize she existed.

"I'm sure." the Admiral said, and turned her attention back to those actually in the room. "It is of the utmost importance that we find and fix the reasons why my station is inoperable. Everything else of little priority. We're not far from the Hydran Sovereignty, people. I won't tolerate laxness or anything less than a drive towards getting my command back from those slime-devils. Now, carry on. Tell me what will happen to retake the station. Cut to the chase." She waved her right hand outwards like she was gesturing off a servant, peering down over her nose.

Daren waited patiently as the Admiral ran through her demands. He still shook with the discomfort of knowing she was out here at the forefront. So many personnel and civilians under her command, so many lives at risk.

He coughed, to pick up where she ended.

"First off, this is what we know, for those of you not yet informed of the current events." The Captain dropped into a monotonous tone, detailing the basics without detailed explanation of what had occurred in the last thirty minutes.

"Any questions?"

"Admiral.. begging forgiveness but we haven't received any signs of the station having been taken. Can you clarify your statement about having to retake the station?" Anna asked, wondering what this woman's game was. Why did she want Deep Space Five so bad that she would risk everyone on this ship for it?

"Actually, Anna, I think I can handle that," Cass replied helpfully, cutting off whatever reply the Admiral might have given. Turnabout was fair play, and he was satisfied to see the pompous bitch's look of shock. He forced himself not to grin. ~Yes, ma'am, the XO does have a spine.~

"As I was saying a moment ago, I just got off the comm with Admiral Jas Abrik, President Bacco's Security Advisor," Cass elaborated. "After conveying our situation to Admiral Abrik, we discussed our options. President Bacco has made it clear that she wants a full investigation into what happened here. Deep Space Five was a Starfleet Outpost with a crew of over 2,000 individuals. It doesn't matter if the station has been taken by a hostile force or simply abandoned. Our orders are to determine what happened, and so we will be going over to the station."

Anna listened to Cass and nodded few times, just so he understood she was listening to him. Typing her fingers on a padd in her hand, she made some notes that she didn't want to forget about the mission. She partially knew what Cass was doing, saving her from going off on the Admiral. She and Cass really didn't know each other that well, but the First Officer knew that Anna had a mouth on her and was... spirited at times. She give one last nod and a hint of smile, then turned her direction back toward the others.

["I don't know what to tell you about that, Cass. There's a lot of wrecked ships out here."] came Rex's voice over the comm. ["If people were trying to get away, they didn't do a real good job."]

"Yeah, I don't really like it either, Corran," Cass replied, perhaps a little too informally. But then, it was no secret that the two were good friends. "But something did take out one of our stations, and we need to find out what so that it doesn't repeat the process elsewhere."

Proctor cut in again. "What I need from each of you is your own personal assessment of the situation, possible scenarios, and advised plans of action, both short-term and long-term goals. Do we send in Hazard Team? Marines? Away Teams? No one at all? Explain."

"Captain, I've taken some liberty and began some detailed engineering specialized scans of the stations interior... Before we can send over the Marines, or the Hazard Team we need to send a team of engineers over to restore main power." Anna said. "If we can get internal sensors working over there we can check the station out from the interior... I volunteer to lead that mission, if you approve of it." Anna said, with a slight nod.

"From an operational standpoint, I have to respectfully disagree, Captain," Cass spoke up. "The Hazard Team is designed to insert into situations where we don't have a lot of information. Right now, we are working on almost no information regarding what is onboard that station. My recommendation is that Commander Corgan lead the Hazard Team to make an initial assessment of the base and then follow up with Engineering Teams to restore power."

8-ball felt herself nodding to this plan, although she didn't actually say anything out loud. She didn't exactly want to say, "Oh, Captain, I don't want to go to the big spooky space station first; let THEM go instead". Still, it made sense to her to let the boys with the big guns play first and

make sure things were safe before others went over worrying about things like light bulbs and loose screws.

"I agree," Karyn replied. "There's no sense sending a large team into a situation in which they could very well encounter hostilities right off the bat if we don't have to, but I also have to wonder if it makes sense to send a team over to wander around in the dark."

"It's what we're here for." Corgan shrugged. The Hazard Team was meant to contend with dangers an average security team wasn't trained to handle. They were the closest thing to special forces on the ship. But even James had his misgivings. "Getting in will still be difficult. We'll need more than our team's engineers to help open those doors. That's high grade duranium with more redundant security features than I can list. We'll also be facing pitch black conditions and an unknown threat, and that makes even the floor plans almost useless when we're bumping asses in the dark. However... we can bump into each other in the dark better than anyone. Lieutenant Tarin..."

The Ops Chief perked up a bit at the discussion of the Hazard Team's deployment. "Sirs," she spoke up, looking from Henderson to Dallas and then back at Corgan. "The Hazard Team is trained to handle any situation you can throw at us. With all due respect, what you might call 'wandering around in the dark' is more or less standard recon work for us. Even if we do spend half the mission bumping into each other in the dark," she added with a slight smile. It had been far too long since the Team's last mission, and truth be told she was looking for some action. Maybe it would help her get her mind off the weird nagging feeling in the back of her head.

"Memorable Briefing"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer / Lily squad leader

2nd. Lieutenant Rayne Sutea
Furies Intelligence Officer

===

2nd Lieutenant Rayne Sutea stepped through the corridors enroute to the Intelligence CIC, feeling almost a sense of the unknown in what she would find across the door. With a intelligence division already established on board the USS Galaxy, she knew that her role would probably stir up some friction between the fleeters and the marines. Feeling almost as if she were between a rock and a hard place, she could only hope that one side was at least friendly.

The doors to the Intelligence CIC resembled more a futuristic castle's gates than your common Galaxy doors. To accompany them, a harried Tellarite Intelligence officer was standing like a medival guard behind it; All she needed was a full body armor and a pike.

"State your business.", He shot at Rayne.

Rayne shifted her weight as she eyed the officer in her way, already feeling like she had fallen into the lion's den. First impressions were important, "I'm second lieutenant Echani, intelligence specialist for the Furies, here to..."

"Oh.", The Intelligence officer turned around. "Nyoko!"

Rayne wasn't given much time to wonder what exactly was a 'Nyoko'. A Human officer, also in Intelligence uniform (Which was worn very loosely, almost making it look like a Pajama) came rushing from the central hall. Rayne knew enough to categorize her as 'Japanese'.

"Hello!", Nyoko Yuuri's soprano voice greeted her. "Welcome to the Galaxy's Intelligence Center we're very glad to meet you I'm Nyoko Yuuri everything you need right and even if you don't well you know where to find me you'll be attached to the secondary Intelligence squad temporarily but I'm sure you'll learn quickly and start doing some good with these marines they really seem to need Intelligence of you know what I mean eh just kidding right?"

Nyoko stopped the verbal avalanche, measuring Rayne with her eyes momentarily. It didn't take a telepath to find out that she was thinking 'Not another Supermodel'.

"2nd Lieutenant Echani, nice to meet you." Rayne responded shortly, deciding to keep her comments to herself until she had a better idea of what she was getting herself into. No need to stir up the hornets nest so quickly.

"Ummmm....", Nyoko took a deep breath, glaring at the officer who allowed Rayne to enter, "The message I got told me to expect a 2nd. Lieutenant named Rayne Sutea..."

"Umm... that's not her fault." Rayne replied, a little nervous of how to explain this. Some people probably thought she was crazy, others just weird... but it was how she adjusted to, well, everything. "The woman known as Rayne Sutea, was once me... I guess Starfleet records haven't completely caught up yet." ~Oh what is the best way to explain this~ "I've taken the name of my kind, to honor them."

"Anyway.", Nyoko returned to her previous rapid speech speed, rolling her eyes in a What-everish fashion, "Since Dobryin is not here at the moment, you'd be interested in meeting Saul I suppose, he's the unit's head. Dobryin's the department chief. Oh, I forgot.", She extended her hand for a handshake. "I'm on the secondary unit too, looking forward to work with you."

Rayne took Nyoko's hand in return, with a firm gesture that anybody would expect from a Marine, even a female. Once Nyoko left, Rayne started to look around, even with the harried petty officer watching her every move. "Interesting group..." she uttered under her breath, gliding her fingers over a console with enough care not to set off any of it's indicators. There was something at the edge of her thoughts that were bugging her about this Saul character though, could he be? No... of course not... the universe is too big for a coincidence like that.

At least that was what she hoped...

"So, what do you do around here exactly? I mean, other than stand there like some Kaath Hound ready to pounce on the next unlucky visitor." She asked, motioning over towards the guard.

"I am an Intelligence systems operator.", He answered cryptically, then swiveled toward one of the corridor entries.

"Oh, there he is. Saul!", He said in his native tounge, Tellarite, which was immediatly translated by Rayne's universal translator.

"Thank you Doragli. I'll take it from here.", Saul replied, in Tellarite as well, and dismissed the petty officer. He emerged from the corridor, hugging a PADD close to his chest and smiling cordially toward her.

It was at that very moment that Rayne wished she hadn't done her hair up in a tightly knit braid or she would have pulled it around her face. It was him. No matter how large the universe was, it was him. She didn't say anything, and could only stare blankly into his eyes as he approached her with an unassuming smile.

"Shalom, Lieutenant.", Saul said, putting the PADD down on a nearby shelf. "My name is Saul Bental and I'm leading the secondary Intelligence unit."

Like Nyoko, he too offered his hand.

Rayne was completely awstruck, he didn't remember her? She heaved an internal sigh of relief, even while her nerves were still on fire. If he didn't recognize her, let alone even recall the consequence of their interactions, she should be able to carry this introduction without incident. Hesitantly, she took his hand, "Rayne Sutea, Intellegence Specialist for the Furies detachment." Her voice was weak, barely past a rasp, but audible in the least. She just hoped he wouldn't assume too much.

As he looked at her, Saul realized that something was troubling him. The marine Intelligence officer was beautiful and probably stronger than him physically, but that didn't intimidate him. Heck, the Galaxy was a tough supermodels agency. What was it then, slithering in the back of his mind?

He decided to forget his paranoias for now, and led her to the Liliy Squad's office. On the way, he told her about how the secondary unit was established, its goals, and its current members.

"... will get to do some research work, as well as some field work - but our primary goal as a ship-board department is to provide real-time information to the decision-making class, as well as collecting and processing any information that comes our way and might be of interest to the Intelligence officers back in HQ..."

All that time, he accompanied the speech with extravagant hand-gestures. He usually kept those at bay, but when he was distracted - much like now - his hands danced with his words. Still, he managed to remain coherent.

"Right now, we're concentrating on investigating data related to the Hydrans' involvement in Havras, and the threat that they pose to the Federation. Since we're now one of the closest cruisers to the Hydran border, our knowledge of them will become crucial, as it already has on Mirusa. We've also recently dealt with... some classified Humint activities, and we're also going to follow a thread in an investigation related to the Leran Manev disaster. I might get you involved in that."

Saul swiveled to face her. "That's all for now. Questions?"

Yes, Rayne did have questions, but she was too concerned with getting herself out of his company than anything else. She was a Marine, and while she would be 'supporting' their intellegence operations with anything she might eventually gather during Furies operations, she didn't want the dilemna of choosing between two superiors. "No, I'll review the information on electrons if I have any questions." She said quickly, stammering because she had yet to keep eye contact with him yet. Of course he was going to think this stuff was suspicious.

"All right. Once questions do rise, feel free to talk with me, Seren or Nyoko. Actually, we'll be glad to help you with any problem you might encounter. You ARE part of the family, even if for a limited time."

Rayne didn't respond right away, perhaps because she had too often heard people say: "You're part of the family" ever since her world was obliterated by the Peragus disaster. She really couldn't blame them, they were doing the best they could for the sole survivor of an entire race; trying to help her adjust. Of course these circumstances were different, but that phrase always reminded her of earlier times.

"So... tell me a little about you.", Saul said abruptly. "I didn't even get the chance to read the unclassified part of your file."

Rayne pondered for a moment, still not able to look Saul in the face. That sounded exactly like him, not having time to read the 'unclassified' parts of her file before he read everything else. The truth was, that even if she didn't know him, she still wouldn't have offered to tell her life story. With the fact that she not only knew him, but knew him very well, she wanted nothing more than to get out of there. "Well it's all in that other part of my file, lieutenant." She said, her voice weak but crisp. "I'm sure that you'll have time to read it, now if you'll excuse me I really have other things to do."

Saul stood up. Objectively, with his paranoias put aside, the Marine Lieutenant seemed to be alright, and should prove a valuable addition while she's attached to the unit. "So how about meeting over a cup of coffee tomorrow morning, to discuss your first task?", He asked.

Rayne wrenched her fingers in front of her so that he didn't see, her skin seeming to crawl with the desire to leave. At least that was her first reaction, but when she realized what he said, she turned around astounded. "But I... I mean you... you hate coffee... I mean, I..."

Perhaps it would have been better if she just put a phaser into her mouth and pressed the trigger.

Saul smiled. "It's an acquired habit, Lieutenant. I couldn't even touch coffee until my first assignment after the academy. Couldn't stand that strong smell. Would orange juice do?"

Rayne stuttered in her step, she could feel her face getting red. "Orange juice, yes, sure... I'll see you then." She replied quickly, before disappearing out the door at such speeds that it took the intelligence team a moment for the blur to register in their vision.

Back on the office, Saul returned to his work. There were plenty of things to do : Prepare a training plan for Sutea, plan the mission with Le'on, consult with Nyoko on how to continue operating Lieutenant Lin, work on his thesis…

Practical as ever, Saul returned to work – but he was unable to concentrate. Something in the back of his mind still troubled him, like a mosquito flying inside his skull. There was something definitely wrong during his briefing with Sutea.

The buzz continue up until his received a message from Commander Henderson to report to him immediately.

"Setting up the Board" - Part III

Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer
Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor, Deep Space 5-Incumbent
Vice-Legate Kylar Curran, Chief Federation Officer
Commander Cass Henderson, XO/Strategic Ops Officer (Hydran Sector)
Commander Karyn Dallas, Second Officer/Chief Counselor
Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security
Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb, Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, Chief Engineer
Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Manager
Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Lt. JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigator
Lt. JG 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer
2nd Lieutenant Branwen London, Acting CO, Furies
Major Corran Rex (via in-flight visual), CO, Vanguard Squadron

****

Deck 1
Main Conference Lounge
USS Galaxy

"If we're sending away teams over to the station, I recommend we send shuttles as opposed to using the transporters." It was the first time Miramon had spoken in the briefing, but he feared it would be negligent of him not to mention his concerns. "Since the main power on the station is currently down, we would have to beam our people out using the ship's transporters, which would require use to be close enough to do so, with our shields down. If anything unexpected occurs while the Away Teams are out, and they need to be pulled out, we need to minimize the risk. The shuttles have their own transporters, and it'd be easier to get them out without risking the safety of the ship and her crew. That should remain our priority, with respect, Admiral."

"Agreed," Cass again replied. "Since we don't know exactly what's over there, a shuttlecraft boarding will give us the ability to have a localized transport, with the Galaxy in reserve in the event that the shuttles are compromised."

"I'll get onto that one shortly, Commander. I suggest that we send at least three shuttles, all directed to different locations, since the more people we have on the teams, the quicker things will be operational. But we should send engineers along with the Hazard teams. It's all very well the Hazards assessing the potential for any threats, but without at least partial power restored aboard the station, any boarding of the station is going to leave the teams vulnerable anyway."

Mike cleared her throat, before speaking in her heavy Texan accent, "Ah'm going to have to insist that if we send any away teams that each one have a medical officer with them. It'd be logical to assume that there'd be casualties on the station - also, if we're dealing with a contagion of some sort given the transporter's inability to lock onto the personnel from the 'craft we pulled in earlier ah'd lahk to insist that we treat this as a possible contagion scenario.  Ah'd recommend at least personal bio-shields if not full hazmat suits until we're certain that there's nuthin' thar."

"Which is why I recommend only sending one team, our ship's Hazard Team," Cass repeated. "The Hazard Team contains both an engineer and a medic and is trained specifically for situations like this. Their specialized operational suits serve as personal bio-shields, and they receive special training to operate in medical disaster areas. And I cannot stress this enough. We don't know what's over there. Sending a lot of personnel at first is a mistake. The Hazard Team is trained to do this job. I suggest we let them do it, report in, and then send over salvage, recovery, and treatment teams."

8-ball took a quiet breath before she opened her mouth; she really didn't want to but she couldn't just sit here and not say anything. Well, she could, but it sort of denoted a lack of courage. Or at least spunk.

"I'd have to agree," 8-ball said finally. "I'm not exactly an expert on the Hazard Team's routines and regulations, but one would have to assume they know what they're doing. Having an excess of personnel aboard the space station before we know what we're dealing with. . .well, it seems a little reckless to me. I could understand wanting a few extra people to tag along with the Hazard Team, but having three away teams going in blind. . .I just don't think it makes sense. As long as the Hazard team already has a decent engineer, I think the safest course of action is to let them go in first."

"The engineer on the Hazard team is good. However, if he runs into any problem beyond his training. I can probably walk him through it via communications.  If they are able to communicate out. I'd also suggest sending transporter transponders, and portable communications array.. no since going over there if we can't communicate or get off that station if they need to." Anna said.

"That sounds like an excellent plan.  'Commander Corgan, I assume your men will be carrying transporter enhancers and a portable communication booster?"  Cass asked the Security Chief.

"Hell yes." James smiled enthusiastically, "Standard equipment."

Saul Bental seized the moment to speak up. "I would like to express my concerns regarding approaching the station. I think the debris field can be an excellent cover for an enemy ambush. I suggest that we make sure that there are no threats in the immediate vicinity before moving on to inspecting the station."

["Got it already, Bental."] the Trill replied on the comm. ["Otherwise I'd happily grace all of you with my presence."]

"Some flyboys to cover our asses then?" James Corgan asked.

["When do we do anything else, Corgan?"] the Trill asked fliply.

As soon as the Major stopped speaking, Miramon piped in quickly, wanting to get the operational aspects of the shuttle boarding.

"Major, if possible, I'd like you to leave Ensign Jen available for piloting one of the shuttles. Since she's also on Vanguard, her experience in regards to combat maneuvers would be useful if we encounter any problems in the field.  Never hurts to be cautious."

["With respect, Captain, I'd rather pilot the shuttle. I'll leave Teyri and Lansky with the Squadron. I'd like to accompany the Hazard Team in as well. Most of my new pilots haven't had training for fieldwork yet.  I'd rather take this myself."]

"Major, It's Anna... Might I ask why?" She asked, about him wanting to pilot the shuttle craft.

["Don't know. Just a feeling about something."] Corran said honestly. Something about this entire situation was naggingly familiar - as though he'd seen it all before. He still couldn't put any kind of finger on it, so it seemed better to remain silent on that just now.

Cora had been listening intently, "Since we don't know exactly what happened, Intelligence is vitally important. Waiting will only ruin our best chance to gather that."

"I don't totally agree.", Saul countered his former superior, "While Intelligence IS vital, the ship's safety should come first - and while I trust Major Rex's men to ensure that we're flying into safe space, I wouldn't put the ship at Tactical disadvantage before they complete their mission.

For a moment she looked at Saul then back to the others, "My recommendation was to the Command Staff.  They can make their decision. However if we totally ignore what I've just said then everything else it pointless. I am fully aware of the situation as it stands now."

8-ball raised an eyebrow. ~Mrowww~ she thought, but said nothing. She had said her fifteen seconds for today. Besides, her head still hurt. She was definitely getting some post-weird-dizziness-plus-staff-meeting chocolate after this.

"I think we're getting into pointless debates here, and that needs to stop," Cass pronounced, heading off further argument between the two. It was no secret that there was no love lost between Cora and Saul, after the incident on Trill and the formal reprimand that he'd placed on Saul's file.  ~Of course, Cora's a little too straightforward for intelligence.  Saul's the opposite, too devious.  I'll need to watch them both.~

"As to the current pointless debate, here's my take.  Yes, good intelligence has been and will always be vitally important.  However, Mr. Bental is correct in mentioning that the safety of the ship is paramount," Cass explained to all involved.  "We're going to continue with the current game plan in respect to that debate.  We will dispatch the Hazard Team via shuttle.  The Galaxy herself will hang back until Major Rex and Commander Corgan give us the all clear.  Then, at Yellow Alert, we will proceed to close the distance and bring the Galaxy's full resources to bear."

Bran was developing something of a headache again. Weird she never had them and this was the third in 48 hours. She bit her lip not knowing if she should speak up or not. These guys probably knew better then she.  But the boss would expect her to say something she thought.

Finally she raised her hand and blushed when everybody looked at her. "I ehm....the marines are trained for these missions as well. I...I would feel better if we were involved in the teams, sirs and ma'ams."

"Understood, Lieutenant," Cass replied, then dismissed the idea. "However, I don't think it's warranted.  With the exception of your Advanced Recon Commando unit, the Furies don't have the necessary experience to operate as the Hazards do.  Normally I would agree that Lieutenant Ward's ARCs would be the appropriate choice for a backup team, but at the moment they, as well as most of the Furies, are recuperating from their experience on Mirusa VI."

"With respect, sir. My people are tough. We could do this. But I will of course follow your orders, sir." They probably didn't trust her in command. She turned very red.

Karyn winced upon hearing London's comment.  After the earlier threat of a pissing contest between Saul and Cora, the last thing she wanted to see was a disagreement between the executive officer and one of her own officers, but she understood London's desire to say something, and she respected the fact that she'd volunteered to assist.

Cassius frowned.  If he was going to send marines into a situation like that, he was going to have T'Shani commanding them, not a naive junior lieutenant.

"Lieutenant London, it really doesn't matter how 'tough' your people are if they're exhausted and working for a commander who they haven't had time to adjust to yet.  Especially if they're by and large trained for mission profiles that are vastly different from this one."

"That's settled, then," Cass continued on, not leaving time for a reply from Lieutenant London.  "Captain M'Kantu, Admiral Proctor, I think we have a viable plan of action for your approval," Cass said, summarizing for all involved.  "The Galaxy will remain at the edge of the debris field while Flight Officer Teyri leads the Vanguards and Commander Corgan and Major Rex lead the Hazard Team in exploring the debris and the station, respectively. We will have Lieutenant Ward's ARCs, as well as multiple engineering and medical response teams on standby.  How does that sound to you, sir?"

"Does Commander Henderson's plan meet with your approval, Admiral?" M'Kantu was quite impressed with Henderson's focus and control of the meeting. A bit too eager to please and resolve, but that could be because of Admiral Proctor's presence. The tension between Dobryin and Bental was unaffordable as well. He would have to speak with Henderson on that front. Perhaps order a round of evaluations.

"It does, except I want Marines in there, too. I never trusted the Hazard Teams, and the Corps are specifically trained to handle the Hydran threat should we come across it."

"I agree with Mr. Henderson on the notion of rest time for the Marine Corps. I'll send them in with the followup teams if need be. Their skills will be of more import to the operational teams than with personnel who are able to assess and resolve the situation just as efficiently." He raise a mottled hand. 'That is my position. It will not be changed, Admiral."

Leaning back down to locate Commander Corgan at his position, he drew the hand back to his chin, leaning an elbow on the table in the process.

"If I recall the roster report on your Hazard Team, Commander, you are short one member with Ms. Alverez departing at Mirusa VI, correct?"

"Aye, sir. We need an Engineer."

"Very well. Take Ensign Slayton. He was next on rotation." M'Kantu did not acknowledge O'Shea's presence at the table.

Curran raised an eyebrow. M'Kantu gained another notch of respect in his book. He would have to observe the Chief Engineer to gauge her impartiality and mental fitness on the decision.

"Then, we're done? We're done." 'Livia Proctor stumped to her feet, eyeballing everyone. "You're all dismissed. Get my station back." She shook her square face, eyes bugging open wildly. "Am I being ignored?"

M'Kantu gave a silent nod to everyone present.

"Commander Corgan. You have a go. Good luck." As everyone filed out of the room, Daren leaned back, found his seat uncomfortable as shown by his constant shifting around. Eventually, he gave up, pushed the seat out as he stood up, and promptly sat back in his own that Proctor had so thoughtfully vacated.

He pondered on what would unfold next. Quickly, he resolutely moved to a standing position, as perhaps it was the thought of the woman who had been sitting here before had somehow altered the comfort value of his chair and left ants on it. Hurrying without knowing why, he couldn't wait to be out of the Conference Room to the sanctity of the Bridge. He wouldn't be getting any rest himself, he knew. Poor habits from someone who had ordered the Marines to stand down for their own recovery. But then, this was why he was Captain; more responsibility in trade for no senior officer to report to. Not even Admiral Proctor could change that. But then again, he couldn't get her off his ship soon enough.

"Thoughts and Preparations"

Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison USS Galaxy

:: Corridor Deck II, USS Galaxy ::

When Anna had heard M'Kantu assign Marcus to the away team she was little confused. Marcus, quiet frankly was prepared for going over there. Needless to say he didn't have the specialized training that she had. The other thing that confused her about it was the fact the Hazard team has a engineer, why take two engineers? If they were sending an engineer with the Hazard team, why not send her since she had been trained then most in engineering? She figured he did it to see what kind of reaction she would show when Marcus was going over there.

Anna was the complete professional, she didn't give one single worried look just nodding at his order. The one thing that was most amusing about the meeting was the look on James Crogan's face when she mentioned she was getting married, she wondered if they knew it was to the very man M'Kantu was sending over to the station if James would actually choke and pass out.

The thought of that brought a smile to Anna's face.

The way Kylar Curran looked at her though suspected that the diplomatic officer did know that it was Marcus. When he arched his eyebrow and looked in Anna's direction, all she did was smile at him and give a nod, mostly just to yank his chain and show she wasn't worried about Marcus going over there.

Anna found it almost funny how people seemed to take interest in her personal life, but then she understood why. Everyone wondering if she was able to maintain command of engineering and have impartiality, and she did have that.

Reaching up she tapped her commbadge. "O'Shea to Slayton... Ensign, report in EVA gear to the Hazard office... your up for away team duty... O'Shea out." She said, then stepped back in the elevator to head down to engineering.

"Marines rock"

Greg Ward
Rayne Sutea
Branwen London

Branwen was extremely nervous. It was the first time since Trish left that she had called her people together. She had no idea what they thought of her, yet she knew one thing. Right now she had to show some authority, so they would believe in her as a leader.

Greg had just come from a meeting with Simmons about the situation concerning something called "Atlantis" which made him rather interested, especially since he followed up the meeting with a request to SFMC Command, asking him if he and his ARCs were needed to help clean out the rest of the station in case there was more agents of the Hive there. The half-Trill shrugged and slipped his hands into his fatigue's pants as he headed to a meeting with one Lieutenant London who was the acting CO until Tish got back.

Branwen greeted him when he walked in. "Welcome lieutenant." She said. "I don't think we have met yet. Branwen London, temporary CO."

"Second Lieutenant Greg Ward, Blue Team Leader and ARC project commander for the Galaxy, ma'am. And no, we haven't met before today I think." Greg said with an honest tone to his voice. "I was actually coming to meet and ask you what you needed from me after Tish left." he finished.

"That's good timing, Lieutenant, and exactly what this

meeting will be about." She said.

Rayne Sutea was startled from her light doze, she had been waiting in the briefing room for the rest of the group to arrive, and decided to close her eyes for a bit. The training schedule lately had been rather intense, and she was still tired and sore from hers and Branwen's last workout. "Oh, hey everybody." She uttered lightly as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to get her orientation. "Did I miss anything?"

Greg shook his head as he leaned against a near-by wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Nope. We are waiting on the others." Branwen said. "Have a seat guys."

"Oh good," Rayne replied, stretching her arms out in front of her, her attention coming to the new face in the crowd. "And you are... who?"

"Second Lieutenant Greg Ward, Blue Team commander and ARC Project commander." Greg said simply without moving from his spot. He then turned to face the british marine, "By the way, lieutenant London. I think the two of us should talk when we both have a chance at the earliest conveince. You still are the chief psychologist are you not?" he asked in a causal but questioning tone.

"Yes I am." Bran said. His need must be great to ask her for an appointment with other marines present. "we will make an appointment after the meeting is done."

Greg noded at what London said, "Understood ma'am." Greg said

Rayne didn't like the way that the new second lieutenant just shrugged her off. Part of her wanted to get wise, but as if sensing her motives, Bran, as always, interrupted.

"Okay guys. We have to reorganize until the chief and Lt. Baile come back. We could be going into action any minute. And we are two leaders short. Echani I want you to take over command of 2nd platoon for now until Baile gets back."

"Check," Rayne replied quickly, but not so quick as to give Bran the impression that she was irked at her. Taking out her PADD, the young woman started thumbing commands until she had some of the information she figured she would need to take over. Assuming command of an entire platoon was never easy, especially when the troops were already adjusted to one platoon leader. Since Rayne was not only just assuming authority, but also entering this unit as a new officer, she was sure there would be some friction between herself and the troops. It of course, would be up to her to smooth things out, and at least she'd have help from the senior NCO's.

She heaved an internal sigh, there were times the chain of command was the only thing that kept a unit moving...

"Right." Bran said picking up that the other woman was not happy about something. "any other questions, comments?"

"Actually, I do have something to add, lieutenant. The members of the ARC branch of the furies is ready and able to begin beam over operations to see what is wrong with the station. We request to be the first ones sent over, ma'am." Greg said, smirking slightly. He was proud of his ARC troopers mostly because during their first mission while apart of the Galaxy's detachment, they had performed without problem despite the loss of PFC Tempus during former security officer Wikkins' sabatoge of the ship's systems. "Also, what do we know about the current situation, lieutenant?" he finished

"I am sorry but the hazard team will be the first to go over." Branwen said trying not to show her irritation. She knew it was her fault, the XO just didn't trust her to do the job. "But later we will show the navy what marines are made off!"

Greg nodded but he couldn't get the look of distaste off his face when the words "Hazard Team" came into use. It was widley known that the marines felt that the so called "Hazard Team" was a blantant slap in the faces of the marines which was once considered to be the first and foremost portion of starfleet in such a situation. But Greg knew that he was not in charge of the starship.

"Alright, Lieutenant. If the fleeties think that they can have their...hazard team can do the job, then let them for the moment. The ARC division will be ready for deployment with our pelican until such time that we are not needed." Greg said in a rather flat tone with an undercurrent of anger. But he had to respect this Lieutenant London, she apparentally had some real brass ones from the look on her face when she told him and Rayne about what the choice was made about to send the hazards in first.

"Lieutenant, I am sure there will need us, and rest assured I know the value of your team." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Let's get ready, people, for when they need us to rescue them."

"Please don't hit me."

Lt.jg 8-Ball Hunter
Chief Science Officer

Lt.jg Cain Forrester
Chief Historian and all around slacker

Location: Main Library

First stop on every ship. The Library. Cain could hide in there for hours before someone decided to track him down. Historian was such a low key and unimportant job these days. But he had big plans. A History of the USS Galaxy. Starting from initial construction, and up to and including the Battle of Havras and beyond. It didn't bother him that they could get into a fight and die. Hell, he'd fought the Cardassian captors that blew off his arm. Speaking of which, it started to twitch and flex uncontrollably. He lifted it up to take a look at it.

"Aw hell. Not again. Piece of shit."

Just as the main door swished open, all the fings save for the middle one retracted in as far as they could go, leaving middle one completely extended.

Someone had entered the library, and Cain immediately hid his hand inside a book, hoping like hell they didn't see the unintentional gesture.

8-ball raised an eyebrow as she walked into the room. "Gee," she said. "No wonder I never come around the library. Random peoplejust decide they don't like me and feel the need toexpress by flipping me off."

She walked up to the tall, lanky-ish guy who had just previously flipped her off. By the look on his face, 8-ball guessed that either it had been unintentional or hadn't meant for her to see it, but she didn't really care much. "Are you Lieutenant Cain Forrester?"

The site was not one he wanted to see."Uh..I..Um..Crap..crap crap crap....Um.. i didn't Mean anything. The arm is bionic and defective!...Please don't hit me." Replied Cain in a cower. His hand twitching uncontrolably.

"Uh-huh," 8-ball said, taking that as a yes. "Well, I'm 8-ball. ..ummm,well, Lieutenant Hunter, but you can just call me 8-ball if you want,and I'm your new Chief Science Officer. Considering sciences is a department sort of edging on oblivion, I thought I'd come meet you and, well, whatever." 8-ball supposed she was probably doing this sort of thing wrong, but hell with it. She didn't ASK to be the Chief Science Nerd. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh...Yes...um..C-C-C-C-C-C-Cain...Yes..Cain..F-Forrester...Just Cain. Yes. Cain. Don't hit me..."

8-ball stared at him. "Why would I hit you?" she demanded. "Do I look like the Galaxy's Enforcer and Head Henchman to you? Look, I forgive you for the accidental flipping off thing. Not that big of a deal. Shall we start again?" She spoke in a very slow voice. "I. . .8-ball. You. . .Cain. We. . .can. . .be. . .friends. . .now. So stop twitching already. Okay?"

"Ok..."

Cain paused a very long time. "Very nervous arround..."

8-ball waited for him to finish his sentence, but her patience was sort of legendarly short. "Around. . .what? Other humans? Vulcans? Tribbles wearing Starfleet costumes?"

"Women...."

8-ball blinked. Twice. And then one more time for the hell of it. "You're uncomfortable around women," she said, almost to herself. "Well, I'm afraid I can't change my being a woman. I mean, I guess I could, but that could be painful and a long process and, well, frankly, I just don't want to. So unless you want me to buy a fake mustache and wear bulky clothes to hide the shape of my boobs, I think you're just going to have to deal with the fact that I'm a woman. In fact, the Galaxy is sort of full of women, and if you can't talk with any of them without stuttering yourself silly, then, well. . .you're going to have a either a really difficult or really interesting time here."

"But let me assure you that even though I am a woman and you're a semi-attractive-ish guy, I'm not interested in you, and I'm going to assume that you're not interested in me. So even though the whole gender thing is different, we should still be able to talk to each other, work with each other, and not worry that one of us is going to molest the other. Agreed?"

"Yes..I gotcha." He seemed to calm a bit. "I dunno...Just a severe personality flaw I don't quite understand. I sat up one night thinking about it, and I'll be damned if my nose didn't bleed by morning. The Doctor said it was just a sudden pressure change due to some difficulties with the enviromental system, but I dind't beleive him. Maybe I'm not supposed to understand..."

Then he seemed much more distant.... "Nor have I, in my normal manner, even tried to do anything about it...Self Destructive laziness."

Had he broken the Ice with his new boss? Or just wierded her out...just like everybody else. "Well, you probably think I'm a nuts wierdo like everyone else. I wonder when I'll snap out of it myself."

8-ball thought about that. "Well, yeah. I mean, you do kinda come off as a little psychotic. But, hey, that probably means you'll fit right in. The Galaxy's bursting with little psychotics. I mean, everyone's pretty much nuts one way or the other. Captain doesn't seem too weird, but I'm sure that will change with time." This was actually 8-ball trying to be nice, which may or may not have worked. She couldn't quite say she liked this strange new guy, but she didn't have a set hatred against him either. He couldn't have been worse than Curran, at any rate.

"Anyway," 8-ball said. "I won't keep you. I'm sure you're doing many important library things. I just thought I'd introduce myself and I did, so, yeah. Good to meet you again, Cain. See you around."

“Boyfriend Stealer”

Nara & Bran

*******Nara & Bran's Quarter's*******

Nara sat on the couch, trying to fool herself into thinking she was reading. Saia was in school, and she tried to also tell herself she wasn't waiting for Bran to come home. But she was. Except the brief moment upon returning to the ship, they didn't talk. Nara knew they both knew there needed to be a talk.

Branwen was absolutely exhausted. She was trying to handle to full-time jobs at the moment. And it was telling on her social life. Right now she didn't have any, because there weren’t enough hours in the day.

She managed a smile for Nara when she came home. And started to walk past her to the bathroom.

Nara had opened her mouth, but decided to let her roommate settle in from work first. When some time had passed and Bran emerged from the bathroom, Nara spoke reluctantly, "Maybe we should talk."

"About what, Nara?" Bran asked. "I am so sorry if I am not home more often. I barely have time to sleep. And I am totally overwhelmed by work."

"I'm sorry," Nara said, "but I was just wanting to know how you felt about the argument about who to die and who to try to live thing."

"You were bloody stubborn." Bran said sitting down on the sofa.

"Me?" Nara smiled a bit, "I think that's one thing we have in common."

"But I am the combat specialist, you should have listened to me. I am the marine."

Nara laughed, "Well this is the side of you I've been waiting to see, but now is probably the time to tell you more about me." Nara shifted a bit to face Bran better, "Before I was assigned here, I fought in the Sakarian Civil War. I may not be marine, but I too have been in combat. I may not have the fancy title, but I am no less a warrior than a marine." She looked at Bran, "In fact, Starfleet is no less combative than Marines. We just face combat differently. But personally, for about a year, I lived more like a marine on a battlefield."

"I see. I indeed did not know, its makes your actions more understandable.”

And she smiled slightly. "How have you been doing?"

Nara shrugged, "Good compared to what we came back from."

"I try not to think about that any more. Nor do I have the time, did you know that they made me temporary commander. Me!"

Nara smiled at her, "Congratulations!"

"Yeah." She totally didn’t know how she felt about Nara right now. "So when are you moving out, or is he moving in?"

Nara was taken back, "What? Why would I move out? And who the heck would move in?"

“Your boyfriend.”

Nara looked down; "I wouldn't call him that." She wasn't sure what to say to Bran.

“He chose you, didn’t he?” Bran snapped back.

Nara blinked. More and more of the aggressive side of Branwen was coming out. She tried to keep her own calm, trying to keep Bran her usual calm self. "He didn't really choose anything, Bran. I'm not sure what he's doing."

“That’s not what the grapevine says, Nara.”

"The grapevine is all about rumors, Bran. Do you believe I slept with George Kastanza?"

“Now, but then you never liked him much. And we both know how you feel about Saul.” Bran was calming down. Sulking wasn’t at all like her.

"If you're angry at me, Bran...Just tell me." Nara was feeling very upset about it. More than she thought she would; and she knew all this was coming. "I wish I could say I would break up with him, but I wouldn't ask you to do that. He's the only man I feel I could get close to...more than friends."

"I am not angry at you. You were friends with him longer than I. I have no reason to be angry at all. I should have known better. Let's forget about it, OK. I wish you guys every happiness." She didn't look very happy.

"I don't like that you're sad, but yea, probably best we let it go for now. And hope we can still be friends." There was no fixing it now. They had to have time. This really stunk, and oddest thing of all was that Nara felt worse that she felt sad. Like the emotion was so prominent that the reason for it was barely the point. She stood, "I'll be home later tonight." She walked to the door and turned putting on a sad smile, "But I'm not going anywhere. I hope you'll stay too."

“I will stay. I love you and Saia.” Bran muttered then turned and hugged Nara. “Sorry for being such an ass. Work and this is overwhelming me a little.”

Nara nodded, "It's ok." She let go and walked out the door. Why did she feel so rotten when things were supposed to be happy?

Branwen fell down on the couch and started to sniffle. Marines shouldn’t cry, but here there was nobody to see her.

"Getting Ready through an inner view"

Featuring: Ensign Marcus Slayton Engineering Officer-USS Galaxy

=================================

Marcus slipped into his engineering hazard/EVA suit and then he closed his locker's door. Marcus always felt that the Hazard/EVA suit was kind of too much like the battle suits worn by the marines but he shrugged it off as he headed towards the nearest turbolift to head to Hazard Ops.

On the way down, Marcus started thinking about everything that had happened since he joined the Galaxy's crew. Within two hours of his arrival on Trill, the planet had the Prometheus class ship Akula crash on it and then he wound up meeting Anna again and they rekindled their relationship and helped to get the Galaxy back up to fighting trim.

Perhaps one of the greatest moments in his life was when he finally asked the woman that he loved to marry him after so many years and Aya's sabatoge of his and Anna's relationship, plus during this time he was finally able to start to build a formation where he and his father could finally have a father/son relationship which had been lacking the entire time that he was growing up.

The lift doors opened up and Marcus started making his way to the office which he would then report to in order to be ready for the away team mission, but he couldn't get his mind off of the things that had happened.

It was during the recent events of Federation Day that not only did the crew of the starship Miranda stopped the covert black ops division of SFI known as "Section 31" from taking over the federation though a number of people had lost their lives during the counter-coup.

However, it was during this that the Mirusa situation came up which took the Galaxy away from it's intended mission to deliever the new commander of DS Five to her appointment. However, something happened and he along with a number of other officers were stuck in one of the holodecks and well, needless to say, that didn't help matters much.

Marcus' line of thinking was interrupted as he entered the office for the Galaxy's Hazard Team and waited to find out what happened next.

But that was a common question, what was going to happen next as a slight dizzyness started to come over him for a brief moment and then he shook his head to clear it..

"Mundus vult decipi" Part Three

Guest staring from Starbase 212:
Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC]

Also Featuring:
Damil'Ka of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon female
Morghot of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon male Loran,
Yridian smuggler [NPC]
Beq'ta, CMO, T'Kengra [NPC]

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

(This takes place while the USS Galaxy is at Mirusa VI)

*** Starbase 212 conference room 3***

Jim Westmoreland shook his head. What they told him now was... He didn't even have the words for it. "I'm sorry. Say that again? Because it sounds like you just told me you hacked into the Starfleet Headquarters database."

The male Klingon visibly cringed, he was really hoping that he wouldn't fixate on that part about hacking into the computers. He nodded at the Commodore and worried about what was to come. “Yes, we did. But we could not obtain the information in any other way. We just had to. We did leave a note behind saying how we got in, so that Starfleet could fill the gap. It's not much, but it's the best we could do considering the circumstances.”

For some time Westmoreland considered the option to stop listening to these two before him and throw them right into the brig. After he'd cooled down a bit he decided to go on. He could always throw them into the brig afterwards. "Right, so you discovered that the isolinear rods were fakes. Therefore the testimony of the captain and the first officer from the freighter was false." He frowned slightly, "And you believed them to be operatives from section 31?"

With the events of Federation Day having transpired only a few days ago, everyone in the galaxy now knew who Section 31 was. He was still puzzled but decided to opt out of questioning more at this time and just listen, “Allright, continue."

"I then contacted my colleague here" he gestured towards the Klingon woman beside him, "and relayed that info. All via a secured line of course."

"And what then?" the Commodore asked in his clipped, British voice.

The female spoke up, "Well while he was on Earth I went to meet a contact of his on a planet near the Orion boarder….”

*** Flash back - Daerice V, near the Orion boarder.***

Why was it that meeting contacts always happened in seedy bars on worlds that had no laws? Where people were killed in front of you and no one batted an eyelid? Why did gathering information always seem like a dirty thing? In the old earth style movies being a spy was glamorous and full of adventure. In reality it was dangerous, and not in the least bit fun!

This world was cold, just like the people on it. The sun shone but there was no warmth. And inside was no better, and all this bar served was a thick goop of a drink that threatened to kill you where you sat rather than hold any enjoyment of getting merry. The only good thing about it was it took your mind off the freezing temperatures outside by taking out your throat!

Right now she just felt dirty as she sat drumming her fingernails against the glass in her hand.

The other thing she had come to realize was just how patient you had to be when gathering information. She wasn't one to sit, waiting till the end of time for someone to show up and tell her what she needed to know. But it seemed like this was all she was going to do for the next few hours. And it wasn't like you could kick back and relax here. Every five minutes there was yet another bar fight. Lifting up her drink she leaned backwards as a Tellarite was thrown on to her table by an angry Klingon.

She didn't want to arise any suspicion so she just sat back and waited for the Klingon to take his fight elsewhere, and for the bartender to come and wipe the blood off her table.

Looking around the bar she sighed inwardly and took yet another mental note of who was in the bar and what everyone was doing. Over in the left corner was a group of Boilians playing cards, five in total. Next to them were two Andorians who seemed to be in deep conversation, and up towards the bar were three Klingons who seemed have drinks on tap!

"I met an old man once, he said his name was DunKirk.."

The voice didn't startle her, though the line was not what she had been expecting. Turning slowly she looked up at the man. He was a Yridian, with mottled sagging skin, a small nose and large ears. She didn't reply, just motioned for him to sit down.

"My name is Loran." He said slowly sitting down. "What is yours?"

Lie! She smiled beneath her veils. This one was easy to see through; no Yridian gave out their name willingly. Especially in the line of work he was in. What caught her more off guard was that he was fishing for information from her. No doubt he was fishing for both sides of the pond. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

"Names are not important to me." she said throwing on an accent that even to her sounded bizarre. Maybe she should have practiced it before hand!

"I came only for information." She replied at this point she was beginning to think she sounded Russian.. Lucky for her she didn't have to say much!

Loran studied her cautiously, tilting his head to one side as he did so. She wore many veils, to hide her face, and probably keep out the chill. His eyes narrowed as he watched to see if she was shaking under all the layers of wool she wore. At least then he might be able to establish what species she was. He like many others didn't notice the cold, humans would though. he trailed his thoughts.

"You haven't done this before have you?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving her form, any indication of what she was would be useful, very useful.

Again she smiled at him, though he could not see, and pulled out a pouch form under the table sliding it across to his wrinkled hands.

"You underestimate me. It will be your down fall!" She warned leaning in closer.

Loran sat back for a moment. He was used to threats but still it made him wonder if the price was worth it. His fingers twitched and his eyes widened at the pouch on the table. He quickly pulled it towards him and opened it.

The price was right!

***

"The information the Yridian gave me is here." She said getting out a data rod and handing it to Westmoreland. "He gave me everything I paid him for." She was quite proud that she had managed to get this information and keep hold of it after all that had transpired on the ship.

"Once we had the link I had to find a cover…"

***Sick Bay T'Kengra, Klingon Bird of Prey***

The lights in sick bay were dim as Beq'ta finished working on her patient. Taking a step back she smiled, a toothy smile. "You are Damil'Ka from the house of Hagh'Cha." she said proudly, as her patient sat up on the bio bed. She had surprised herself. This woman now looked the part of a Klingon. It was up to her for the rest. Turing round she retrieved a data padd with all the information her patient was going to need.

'Damil'Ka' stared at herself in the mirror, the ridges rolled across her forehead and her skin was dark, her hair was a torrent of waves, surrounding her new facade. Not even she could believe what a wonderful job Beq'ta had done.

"Do you like your new face?" Beq'ta asked.

'Damil'Ka' nodded and smiled, "You have done good work doctor." She said getting herself into her character, which really wasn’t that hard for her to do, she had grown up with Klingons! Sliding off the bio bed she clasped Beq'ta on the shoulder.

"The comm. Line is secured." Beq'ta said indicating the interface behind her. "I will leave you to talk."

Damil'Ka nodded and sat down. The image was grainy but she could make out her friend clearly.

["Did you get everything?"] he asked.

Damil'Ka nodded, "Yessss." She replied, it was going to take her a little while to get used to her new teeth!

"The information was useful, and I am following a lead now. Number one will fill you in when they pick you up. I will meet you there." She replied, not giving anything away. Even though the line was secured she couldn't take the risk.

Across the screen she could see him nodding.

["Alright. We will talk when I see you. Some things have come to light... I must go!"]

The line went dead and for a moment Damil'Ka sat and stared at the static on the screen until it switched back to the Klingon emblem. She hoped that everything was alright.

Standing up, a little shaky from the surgery she took a step forward and gulped. In her entire career she never envisioned doing anything like this…

"Exposed"

Flt. Admiral Victor Murdock, "Cheshire"/CO, Section 13
Captain Elaithin Jii, CO, USS Miranda
with Commander K. Jordan Elaithin, Intel Liaison, USS Miranda
and President Nan Bacco, President of the UFP

OOC: This is the conclusion from the Miranda's recent mission. I'll be sending this and a handful of other posts along, as they affect both other games as well.

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

Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, Captain Elaithin Jii, Commander Kit Jordan Elaithin, and the woman known only as Slim, were lucky. President Bacco, after a brief conversation with them aboard their shuttle, had beamed back down to the Palais and seen to it that the press room was set up once they'd given her the briefest possible explanation.

Given that her Secretary of State had tried to kill her not hours ago, and she'd witnessed the battle in the asteroid belt from the Eldritch, she could hardly refuse the request of the man who'd saved her life.

Not to mention she was enormously curious as to just how it was possible for Victor Murdock to be alive and well, when four year old reports had him pushing up daisies.

They'd landed on the rooftop of the Palais, though an escort of a dozen Bonzai-Class starfighters had met them over the Atlantic and brought them in safely.

Jii had smiled as he watched just how warily both Jordan and Slim were eying those fighters. Of course, his own hand had hovered near the shield controls, too - just in case.

They'd been ushered quickly into the press room, every reporter Jordan had been able to contact being represented through the room's holographic communications technology.

That wasn't all, though. Nearly everyone who who Jii had ordered into missions - and those senior people from the Miranda, the Arizona, the Icarus, and he thanked the Prophets, even the Texas... but not the Theseus. The Bajoran lamented the loss of Captain ch'Tharesk and his crew, and only hoped most of them had been able to escape.

He also noted three absences from his own crew - Brooke, Circidon and Davoust - and the condition of several of the Miranda crew's uniforms suggested the battle with the Black Sovereign had been a costly one.

That wasn't a surprise, Jii mentally noted, but, in a strange way, he was pleased to find they still hurt. That was a good sign, he decided. The day he stopped caring about the price of his orders was the day he stopped giving them.

'And that's the difference between me and you, Serpico.' he couldn't help but think, even though the.. well, former leader of Section 31 was on the other side of the planet.

His gazed passed over many of those people in the room. He had only time to confirm a few details with each of the away team leaders, and Cat as well, before the gathered holographic representations of many of the reporters present began to grow antsy.

Kant Jorel, the Bajoran who was the President's Press Liaison for the Palais de la Concorde, had stepped up to his podium. He had deep lines etched into his face from what Jii assumed to be a permanent scowl. No doubt, he was pretty unhappy with so many warm bodies in what he regarded as "his" territory.

"Sentients of the Federation," he said in preamble. "The President of the United Federation of Planets."

President Bacco stepped from behind the curtain she'd been waiting behind, nodding at something her Chief of Staff was telling her just before she came into the general room's few.

Everyone grew quiet as she did - one could have heard atoms split in the silence that awaited Bacco's speech.

"Good evening," she began, drawing herself up. "As many of you are aware, this Federation Day has been wrought with many surprises, the attempt on my life not the least of them. There've also been other numerous instances of assassination attempts, many here in the Sol System, as well as a large number of unsanctioned covert operations - some taking place outside of our on borders, but even more disturbingly, many within it."

"A few hours ago, I was giving a speech at the Archer Auditorium. When the attempt on my life was made, I was speaking of how wrong it had been of the Council - of us - to keep what happened at Havras from you,the people of the Federation."

"Now, ten months after that fateful day in Breen Space, I have learned things that chill me to more core. But like that day, many brave men and women of Starfleet rose to protect us from a threat. Then it was a foreign one. But today, - and I would be remiss in pointing out that it was once again the crew of the Starship Miranda chiefly responsible for the safeguarding of many lives - today, they lived up to the other part of their oath."

"To defend the Federation against all threats - foreign, or domestic." she quoted. "We try not to every think about the 'domestic' part of that. But we've paid a terrible price today, not a price in blood, though that has been paid amply with the loss of the Starship Theseus, and the many Starfleet officers and crew of the Starships Miranda, Arizona, Icarus and Texas who died, right here, in the Sol System Asteroid belt, fighting against the flagship of an organization that many people believe to be myth - including, I'm sad to say, myself. This group called itself Section 31."

"I could relate the story to all of you of what happened to day, and how this attempted coup on our government was averted but.. you know.. I think there's some people who deserve to tell you more." She turned then, where Murdock, Elaithin, Jordan and Slim were still standing in a knot. "Admiral Murdock, Captain Elaithin, please, step forward."

Sharing a brief glance, the two men did so. This hadn't been the plan - they were simply going to answer questions as necessary, and let President Bacco expose Section 31.

The President, it seemed, had other ideas. "Who'm I to argue with the President of the Federation?" Jii murmured to Murdock, who chuckled.

Still somewhat unsteady, the Bajoran fought a brief bought of nausea and winced as he felt pain in his side again. "After you, Admiral." he indicated.

Murdock gave a nod, and together, the pair of them accepted the podium from the President. By silent agreement, Murdock spoke first. "Good evening," he began.

"I know many of ye have heard that I was dead. Well, I'm happy to say that some of my.. opponents, thought the same thing. Unlike Mark Twain, however, I did everything I could to encourage the notion."

There were some chuckles across the room at that one.

"Before I move on, I need to tell all of ye exactly what Section 31 is. Many of you have heard rumors, shadowed whisperings, and just as quickly dismissed them from yuir thoughts. I tell ye, though, that anything ye've heard of them, ye can likely believe."

"As for what they are - well, the answer there lies in Section 31 of the Starfleet Charter, predating even the founding of the Federation itself. They began as an autonomous intelligence-gathering unit of the early Starfleet, people who would to the jobs too hard, too dirty for anyone else. The idea might have worked, except for one fact. They reported to no one. Unless one was a member, one did nae even know they existed - unless ye were an enemy. And if ye were an enemy, then ye were dead."

"The people of the Federation have often looked in disdain upon groups like the Tal Shi'ar, or the Obsidian Order. 'We're too civilized for something like that in our society.', we tell ourselves."

"Well, those people should be right. The fact is.. they're not. We've come far, the many races that unite the Federation, but we've still got a long ways to go when a stain on our soul such as Section 31 can be allowed to exist. But what I've seen today, well, I think there just might be hope for us yet."

"However, coming back from the dead has left me a little tired today, so I'll let this young man here, who was prepared to sacrifice everything in his life this day to stop Section 31 - fill you in on what happened today. If we get more men like him, then a day like today may never have to happen again."

Jii's jaw openly dropped at Murdock's praise, and, to be completely honest, he was fighting hard to keep from blushing. He'd never sought such remarks, and truthfully, found himself a little embarrassed by it.

Murdock knew this, of course. It was why he'd said it.

Tamping down his embarrassment - and hoping there wasn't too much color in his cheeks - Elaithin did as he was bidden and took the podium. "Hello." he started, but had to cough as he fought to keep from wincing at the pain that shot up his side once more.

Surely the Palais had a medical staff, who could loan Cat or Anjoli the equipment to fix him up much better than Murdock's EMH had done.

"The people of the Federation have been though a lot today. Even now, Starfleet Security is rounding up the known members of Section 31, thanks to a NOC list acquired by Captain Damon Greyhart of the independent trading vessel 'Auriga'. Without Captain Greyhart's help, none of this would be happening, and you'd be hearing a speech from a new President right now."

"Uploading to all publicly accessible datanets as I speak is a massive file - evidence collected against Section 31 over the last century. I won't go into the details right here ,except for what happened today."

"Today, some of our own people tried to overthrow democracy, because the believe they could do a better job. To meet this end, no price was too high. For the Section, it never has been."

"I like to think they started off with good intentions, but, well, as the old Bajoran saying goes, "The path to the Fire Caves was laid with good intentions." Like many men, they found they had a power that was answerable to know one. For a time, they curbed their impulses, and did things that may have genuinely benefited the people of the Federation."

"What they forgot along the way are all the principles we hold most dear. Duty. Devotion. Honor. Love. Freedom. The freedom to choose, to live, to make our own mistakes."

"Today, the Section sought to play Gods, to decide all of our fates for us. We reminded them that that ability, those freedoms, will not be taken from us."

"Today, a secret war became very public. Now, that war is over - and this is the nail in the coffin for Section 31. There's a number of sayings that would apply here, but I think the most telling is the one that goes "Evil flourishes when good men do nothing."

"Today, we showed evil - in the forms of Admiral Pavel Illyanovitch, Captain Ford Serpico, late Secretary of State, Jack Reynolds, and Captain Sara Roberts of the rogue vessel 'Black Sovereign' - that good people will no longer sit by and do nothing. That all evil, all threats, be they those of the Triad, or from the remnants of Section 31, or anyone like them, that they will be opposed."

"There's another quote that sums up today, for me. I'd never heard until almost four years ago, when I took command of the Starship Miranda. These words are inscribed on that plaque, and I think, will guide much of my life until the day I day. They were said by a human, named Dylan Thomas."

"Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage, rage, against the dying of the light."

"And I swear to you now, as long as I wear this uniform, that I will never forget those words. I will never give anything less than my all to live up to them, to defend those freedoms so many have died to protect. Neither will anyone in this room, nor anyone who deserves to wear this uniform."

A few moments passed then, and someone started an applause that was quickly carried on throughout the room.

When it finally died down, Captain Elaithin Jii was blushing again, but was looking towards the first reporter. "Yes, I... ah, believe you had a question?"

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

The press conference lasted more than an hour, and Jii had no doubt, as they began to all file out of the Press room, that the newsnets were buzzing with the days developments.

He turned to say something to Jordan - but saw she'd been pulled aside by Jerri, and the two were talking animatedly to each other.

"Captain Elaithin?" he heard a voice call. It was the President, and naturally, she immediately had the Bajoran's full attention.

"Madame President." he said, inclining his head respectfully. She had listened with rapt attention as Elaithin and many of his officers had answered the many questions of the reporters, drawing together the full story of today's events, from Greyhart's interceptions of the Section's plans and their NOC list, to how the Section had set up Elaithin's own wife as a patsy, to how he'd had to convince his own staff of everything he'd told them, to the exploits of each of the away teams that had helped saved lives, to the horrible battle in the asteroid belt with the Black Sovereign, that Bacco herself had witnessed.

It was.. quite a tale. "The fourth floor is known as the Grand Ballroom, Captain Elaithin. Your ship, given the shape it's in, will be well watched over by the personnel at McKinley Station."

"Yes.." he trailed, not quite following.

"I've already extended this offer to Captains Rian, Weber, Olivaw and Holmes. They all said it was up to you."

"I'm.. not following, Madame President." he finally admitted.

"Well, Captain," the white-haired human woman smiled, and Jii found it easy to see how her charm had won so many voters. "You and your crew saved the Federation today. I think the least i can do for you is throw you a party. Get the rest of your crew down here." she said, and slipped and arm around Jii's. "And we can celebrate Federation Day in style."

Form behind them, Murdock cleared his throat. "He accepts, Madame President."

"Oh, good, because I wasn't really going to take no for an answer." Bacco smiled. "There's shower and replicator facilities on this floor for anyone who needs them, Captain Elaithin. I expect to see you there shortly." she said, and traded Elaithin's arm for Murdock's. "Tell me, Admiral... do you like baseball?"

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

The party was in full swing by the time Elaithin arrived. Many had gone on ahead, after a change of clothes. Before showering and replicating a new uniform for himself, however, he'd sought Cat's ministrations on his injuries.

Between that and a new set of clothes, the Bajoran felt like a new man.

Standing on the stairwell near an exterior balcony, he let his eyes pass over the crowd, identifying the faces as he saw them.

Jaal and Taalis, having an animated discussion with Daneel Olivaw, Anjoli D'Bari, Rebbecca Weber, and Soren Rio. Cat, Jack, and Gail talking to, he believed, Captains Anthony Maab, Dalenna Coolidge, and Vina Lokai. Adrian Prescott, back from Starbase Atlantis for some reason, dancing with T'Chani Darion.

James Mitchell chatting with Arel Smith, Rena Starburst and - Captain Tara Reynolds, he believed, of the Starship Concorde. Rian and Kol of the Arizona, with Juan Holmes and.. Kohnma? Holmes's XO he thought that was his name, with Dakota, Joral, and the Hammond brothers.

Jerri and Race (the former had enfolded the green orion woman in a large bear hug upon seeing her, the latter looked unsteady and winced), with Spaan and Amuria mel Thora, as well as his Yeoman, Castner.

Others were in their own groups. Here, Ariss, the Legers, Arvalion and Ramirez. There, Katara Elarin and Gwen Parri. Shinta was nowhere to be seen, but.. given the loss of her husband, Jii understood that.

Brellan and Mack Turner over there, getting ready to do something to the trio of Slaton, Shaw and the small Miran, Naota, who looked as through he'd woken up from a bad dream. The Romulan spy, Ael, talking with Shaw, Fett and Hall.

Sheridan and T'Vah, debating something with one of the starfighter techs - Olin, he thought. A group of officer he recognized only from their service records, that they'd been recent transfers. They were accompanied,d though, by Raleigh and Steyne. The new officers, he believed, were Maivia, Isar, Hart, Jen, and the unmistakable Nahota Bloodhoof.

So many other faces he recognized. He smiled as he saw his old Captain,

Admiral Price, in the company of Admirals Nechayev, DeMercereau, Janeway and Scott.

He wasn't surprised that Admiral Ross was nowhere to be found - that was a discussion for tomorrow, though. Tonight, they'd done enough.

So many faces, though. Faces he knew from reviewing Murdock's old logs, or from his own crew and history. Peterson. Berkheij - was that Brex and Albrecht over there? Eva Paige, Damian Berran. Will O'Mera and his wife, Devora. Brian Elessidil. Elim Sivek, and his brother, Enabran. Kyle Mitchell, Jerek Ronan. Pops, Nate Gorham, Randy Phillips. T'Prala Marquez. Tenchi Masaki. Alia Drakely and Lancelot Grogan. Kisha Ventar, Parsimony Sindle and Shana Catclaw. Kate Dallas and Laural Witley. Colonels McNulty and Ozuna and General Thanos. The Breen officer, Et'zet.

So many faces, yet nowhere did he see the one he was looking for - that of his own wife.

"Come here a moment, lad." a voice said from the balcony beside him.

He followed Murdock's voice out onto the terrace, where there was a magnificent view of the "City of Light" in all it's splendor. It had been hit hard when the Breen had struck Earth, but here, in the Capitol city of the Federation, those scars had long healed.

Murdock shoved a drink into his hand, the old scotch the Scotsman was so fond of. "Nice view, eh lad?"

"That it is." he replied, and sipped at the scotch.

"I see ye're not joining the party." the other man observed.

"I will." Jii replied.

"I know." Murdock smiled, a broad grin that showed how it had been easy for him to acquire the name "Cheshire." "Remember that about command, lad. Never get so caught up in being "the Captain" that ye ferget yuir friends. They're the ones that make all of it worthwhile. They give ye a reason."

"I hope I still have my reason." the Bajoran admitted quietly.

"Then ye'll need to find her, and fight to keep it, Jii." Victor said in as just as quiet a tone. He spoke to Elaithin, but something in the Old Man's tone suggested he was thinking of his own lost love. Jii knew his wife had been missing for nearly twenty years, and that weighed heavily on the Admiral.

"You'll figure out how to find her someday, Victor."

"Aye, that I will."

Together they stood at the railing,overlooking the city, each lost in his own thoughts. Neither had spoken for a few minutes, content to watch the city, the traffic, the bustle of light and movement that made the city into a living breathing thing, even well after Sol's rays had faded from it's streets.

"So what are you going to do now?" he asked, catching the old Scotsman's gaze. "You get to have a real life again. No more shadows. But somehow.. I don't imagine President Bacco's going to let you retire, after all that."

"Well," Murdock began, a glint in his eye. "I've been thinking.."

"You're not getting your ship back." came Elaithin's quick reply.

Murdock chuckled softly. "No, lad, I know that. As much as I love her, Miranda belongs to ye now. Ye've made yuir claim, and it's a good one."

"So long as we're clear."

Murdock snorted. "Get out of here, before I change my mind."

The Bajoran chuckled as he walked off, and began to move into the crowd.

It took some doing, but finally, he found her. She'd taken the time to make full use of the President's offer of a replicator, and was wearing a floor-length sparkling back gown. Her hair was up, a necklace of simple pearls her only jewelry.

As she'd always done, Jordan's appearance took Jii's breath away.

Silently, he took her hand in his, and led her out to the dance floor. They might as well have been in a room by themselves for all either knew - or cared.

They didn't talk for awhile, but just stared at each other, and danced.

So much to be said, so much that no longer had to be. They just.. understood. "What about us?" she asked him quietly, laying her head against his chest.

"There'll be an 'us'." he answered quietly, pulling Jordan's head back so he could kiss her forehead. "There may be roadblocks from time to time, Jordan, but there'll always be an us."

"I can live with that." she said quietly.

"Just don't ever, ever shoot me again." he said, and smiled.

"Early Retirement"

FAdm Victor Murdock, unassigned
FAdm Irene deMercereau, 12th Fleet/Breen Sector
Captain Elaithin Jii, USS Miranda
Captain Juan Holmes, USS Icarus

with... FAdm William Ross, C-in-C, Starfleet

OOC: Takes place a few days after "Exposed"

----------------------- Starfleet Command, San Francisco -----------------------

Victor Murdock moved with a sure step when he had something on his mind. As much as had been accomplished a few days ago, there were still some loose ends regarding the Section. One of those loose ends was something he and his associates - Irene deMercereau, Elaithin Jii, and Juan Holmes - were going to take care of now.

The doors to the outer office slid open. The foursome paid no attention to the Rhaandarite lieutenant who was serving as Admiral Ross' secretary. "Good afternoon Admirals, Captains." the Lieutenant said respectfully, and Murdock stopped long enough to look at him. "Do you have an appointment to see the Admiral?"

Victor gave the single-word answer. "No." And then he led his party into the C-In-C's office anyway.

Irene bit her tongue as she stepped past the reception desk, offering a whispered apology to the Rhaandarite officer. Depending on how the next hour played out, the young man's career could potentially be turned upside down. And, though she had known Bill Ross since the earliest days of their careers, and Victor Murdock for almost as long, the petite commander of the 12th Fleet wasn't holding out much hope for the quiet resolution of the day's purpose.

William Ross (known to many, including the four who'd just entered his office) as 'Bill' was seated behind his desk, the sunlight reflecting off of San Francisco Bay helping to illuminate the room.

Ross didn't look all that surprised to see them. "Victor." he said with a nod, and let out a heavy sigh. "I was wondering when you'd come by. And Irene, too. Captain Elaithin. Captain Holmes." he said, greeting them all with a nod.

"Afternoon, Bill." Murdock replied with an equal nod. Everyone knew what this was about - to a degree.

"Hello, Bill," Irene said in, possibly for the last time, the tone she reserved for her closest friends. There was, however, a hint of sadness in her voice. To her, Bill Ross was a hero, a comrade, and a friend. He had led Starfleet through it's darkest hour, and emerged victorious. They still, seven years later, went sailing together twice a year to discuss the state of the Federation. She would miss those days.

In hindsight, Irene knew where it had begun. Desperate times could lead a man to desperate measures, alliances with those who would otherwise have been enemies. As she laid eyes upon Bill Ross' weathered, weary features, she was reminded of the expression of former President Min Zife as he resigned a few years after the end of the Dominion War. 'I am a man molded by war, and therefore am not suitable to lead you into the peace, the future,' he had said. Perhaps the same was true of Bill Ross. But then again... what did that say about a woman like Irene deMercereau?

The big Bajoran just folded his arms. "Sir." he acknowledged, no respect coloring his tone. Early in his Captaincy, his Master Chief, Gabriel Mahler, had taken him sailing with Ross. Jii had come to like the human quite a bit in that time, finding him uniquely suited to the Admiralty. Bill Ross hadn't been the 'verse greatest Captain. But he made for a damn good Admiral. He knew how to use the resources at his disposal.

Elaithin had respect for the man before - a lot of it. But Ross' allegiances - that was too strong a word - his inactions had cost the Admiral much of that selfsame respect.

And could potentially cost him much more than that.

Juan Holmes flinched at the formality with which Ross had addressed him and Jii. He hadn't seen the Admiral since the day before the October First attacks, when Holmes himself had held a small party in San Francisco for several old friends, including the man sitting in front of him right now. During Ross' brief stint as Starfleet Chief of Operations after the war, before becoming CinC, Holmes had been the man's tactical adviser.

Ross hadn't come to visit his former aide in bed at Starfleet Medical after the attacks, but considering how busy he was at the time, that was understandable. Now, over two years and another major injury later, Holmes felt somewhat shunned. His scars from the battle with Black Sovereign would never fully heal, but that was clearly not the only lasting effect that would be seen from all that had occurred.

Murdock had some suspicions, and had discussed them with the three officers who had joined him today. Truthfully he'd had those suspicions for a long, long time. But he couldn't prove them.

He still couldn't prove them.

"You know, Bill," the Scotsman started. "It's a bit strange when you exist almost entirely in the world of information. You start to learn things, and then.. sometimes, you come across some very strange things as well."

Ross was keeping his face carefully neutral. "I don't doubt it." he said simply.

Elaithin spoke up then. "Two years ago, Admiral," he started, echoing Ross' formality. "President Bacco asked for your retirement. There are indications you agreed but then.. the next day, you came to work like nothing had happened. President Bacco, Chief of Staff Pinero, Press Liaison Kant, and a Trill reporter from 'Seeker', all have no memory of the incident."

Ross's face still betrayed no expression.

Holmes sat down, taking certain liberties in the CinC's presence. Considering that he was still using a cane to walk, and considering everything he'd given in the past few days, he felt that he was entitled to a good sit-down. Besides, he was having difficulty remaining standing. Looking across the desk at his former boss, he said, "Bill, please don't tell me that someone wiped their memories for you..."

Still nothing from the man who occupied the office of C-in-C. He could have been made of stone, for all Jii could tell.

But then - when Holmes had asked his question - a slight twitch.

"It took me awhile." Murdock continued. "But I've pieced together what happened. No one has been able to account for the whereabouts of Min Zife, Koll Azernoll, or that Quafina fellow since their resignations."

Murdock's stare grew cold. "The former President, his Chief of Staff, and Secretary of Defense don't just disappear, Bill."

Still, Ross elected not to reply verbally, neither confirming nor denying.

He didn't have to.

"I think that you know what we're talking about," Admiral deMercereau said quietly, sitting against the side of his desk so that she could look him in the eye. Noticing the scratch in his hardwood desk that she'd put in it when she'd accidentally dropped Chancellor Martok's d'k'tagh, she carefully refrained from wincing.

One of her fondest memories of Ross was the time she had joined him and Martok to attend the Starfleet Command New Year's Party. Martok and Ross had gone as each other and... she stopped the train of thought. "Please, Bill, don't make this harder than it already is."

Ross didn't bother to acknowledge things. His connection to Section 31 - his assistance in disposing of the former President and his reasons why, no matter how valid... there was no evidence. No proof.

He looked at Murdock again. 'That I know of.' He thought.

The similarities to when he had helped force Zife's resignation were not going unnoticed. "What do you want, Victor?" he asked, still neutrally.

"Your retirement, Bill. And this time, for good."

Ross let out a resigned sigh. When Ford Serpico, through his lieutenant, Sloan, had approached him during the Dominion War, he'd been apprehensive, despite their fantastical promises. Surely it couldn't last forever? Now, just days after the defeat of Serpico and his allies, Admiral Ross finally knew that he should have trusted his first instinct.

He was also struck by the nagging feeling that, seven years ago, in his ready room aboard the Bellerophon as she orbited Romulus...that Julian Bashir had been right after all.

"Victor, I..." he started, then sighed again. "I'm not going to go into why I did what I did. Those choices are in the past, and I'm sure you've heard enough rhetoric from Serpico and his men in the past few days. So how do you want to do this?"

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Irene who spoke next. Time for a little damage control, with an Irene deMercereau spin. "Admiral Murdock, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, can we make this one quiet? I think we'll have enough testimony without Bill's potential contributions."

It was Murdock's face who was neutral now. "Do you think that's wise, Irene?"

"Well, normally I'd be all for punishing the guilty and exposing the secrets, but..." she shrugged. Thinking back to their graduation (the same year) in 2336, she recalled thinking briefly that one day she'd have to bail him out of trouble. She just wished that it had come sooner, as she had originally thought. "We've all known Bill for years. He has a wife and children. And I don't believe that dragging the reputation of a Dominion War hero through the muck will solve anything."

It was Elaithin who shook his head now. "As much as we've hit the people of the Federation with lately - this would be too much." the Bajoran said simply. "It's better, Admiral, if you just quietly retire like you should have two years ago."

"That said," she turned her attention back to Ross. "You can rest assured, Bill, that we'll always be watching you. I'm not even going to pretend that your allies are gone forever. Honestly, I don't understand how you could be so foolish as to work with Section 31."

"Desperate times." he only said, shaking his head. He tapped something on his computer, brining up a file that displayed on each of their chairs. "As you see, Victor, I've been expecting this. I just transmitted it to the President, the Starfleet Command Press Office, and the Press Liaison at the Palais."

Murdock gave him a nod. "Like Irene said, Bill.. we will still be watching you."

"I don't doubt it." Ross acknowledged, and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Honestly.. it's a relief. The price of the secrets was too high."

"Then you should have done what we did, Admiral." Jii said quietly. "You could have stopped Section 31 sooner."

"Maybe." Ross admitted. "I didn't think it was possible. You've all proven me wrong.. and that's how I know I'm not the man for this office anymore."

No one really seemed to know what to say, as Ross removed the rank insignia from his collar, and the Starfleet commbadge from his chest. With one last look at the delta symbol that had represented so much of his career - his life, his soul, Bill Ross set it down on his former desk.

As his "guests" watched, he stopped one final time at the door. "Oh - Victor?"

"Yes?"

"You saved me the trouble of finding you to tell you. The President would like to see you as soon as possible."

Murdock nodded, even as he felt sympathy for Ross, even now. 'He could have been any of us.' the Scotsman knew.

"The New Order"

President Nan Bacco, President of the UFP
Fleet Admiral Victor Murdock, unassigned

OOC: Not too long after "Early Retirement"

------------------------- Paris, Earth Palais de la Concorde Office of the President -------------------------

The days since Federation day had passed in a confused blur for Victor Murdock. There'd been a great many briefings, debriefings, questions and the like. He wouldn't have admitted it, but after several years of virtual solitude, the presence of so many people had been almost overwhelming.

As he looked out the window of the anteroom to the Office of the President, his gaze cast upwards. He couldn't see Starbase One in the daylight sky, but he knew his daughter was up there, aboard the Texas.

he hadn't seen her yet. Truth to be told.. he was working up to it. A small (or perhaps not so small) part of him was afraid that Alyanna would hate him for what he'd done, would not understand. Sean had.. but he was an adult. He had perspective.

Alyanna Murdock was just an eight-year old girl who's mother had died by the time she was four, and as far as she'd known, her father soon after. She no doubt thought of her cousin, Rebbecca, as her own mother.

What right did he have to take her away from that? To throw himself back into her life?

His own words to Slim not days ago echoed in his mind. He knew they were as true for him as they had been for her. It would be just as wrong from him to deprive his daughter of her father, as it would have been for Slim - Rae - to relieve the Webers of the burden of not knowing their youngest daughter's fate.

That didn't make it easy, though.

'Well - good thing I've never liked things too easy then.' he thought to himself. 'Otherwise, my life would have been a big disappointment.'

"The President will see you now, Admiral Murdock." the rather sour Vulcan at the desk finally said, as the door to the Office of the President opened.

"Thank ye." Murdock said with a simple nod, having no desire to remain in the ... irritatingly literal and precise man's presence any longer than absolutely necessary.

The President's office was decorated differently than the last time he'd been here, back during the War. Min Zife had been President then, and had favored a rather.. garishly decorated office.

Nanietta Bacco, on the other hand, could not have been more different than her Bolian predecessor. She had been governor of the very successful colony world of Cestus Three, and still reminded him of all the other hard-edged no-nonsense colonial governors he'd met in his career. She was sharp, direct, to the point, and had a passion of the ancient game of baseball.

Well, he found the baseball fascination baffling enough, but the rest of it - he liked a great deal. "Madame President." he acknowledged, standing in front of the desk. "I'm told you wanted to see me?"

Bacco looked p at him from the PADD she'd been muttering at. From what he could tell, it was scores from the Cestus Interplanetary Baseball League. "The Pioneers lost." she muttered, along with a few colorful curses he recognized as Gorn. "Again."

"My.. condolences." the Scotsman chuckled, easing him into the seat Bacco had indicated with one hand. "I'm guessing that's not why you asked me here though, Madame President."

"No." Bacco said, holding a padd stylus in her hand and tapping it again. "No, Admiral, it's not. I asked you here to ask just what it is you're playing at."

"Ma'am?"

"I'm not a fool, Admiral." the President replied. "Far from it, I like to thing, but you'll find a lot of people down in the Council Chambers who'll disagree."

"I've never even entertained the notion, Madame President." the Admiral said, spreading his hands wide. His curiosity was, though, piqued.

"So when your man - Captain Elaithin - comes by and asks me and some of my staff some very pointed questions about Admiral Ross, and the next day I get a letter from Bill saying he's retiring for Starfleet, it doesn't take me much to realize somethings up."

"Ah." was all Murdock said. He had, though, figured this would come up.

"My radar especially goes off, Admiral," the silver-haired woman continued "When I hear that you, Admiral deMercereau, Captain Elaithin and Captain Holmes entered Ross' office in San Francisco right before he retired."

"And ye'd like to know the nature of that conversation, I assume, Madame President?"

"You're damn right I would."

Murdock nodded. "In essence, Madame President.. I had reason to suspect Admiral Ross of being associated with Section 31. I canna prove it, but nor could I allow him to remain at his post."

"Moreover, at this time, I didn't think it prudent to have such a noted war hero placed on so public a trial. Bill Ross is a good man - he just made some bad decisions. All I believe him to truly have been guilty of was looking the other way in the face of some very difficult choices. It's still wrong, but it's not necessarily a criminal act in itself. It's cost him his career. I didn't think it should cost him the rest of his life."

Murdock still suspected that the memory erasure of the President and her staff had been done at Serpico's order, not Ross's. In any event, the entire matter was still not something he could have proved at a JAG tribunal.

But Ross was a good man - he'd known he needed to step down from his position, or else the man who had been responsible for so many Starfleet personnel during the Dominion War would have stayed at his post, and Murdock could have done nothing about it.

"And you decided this all on your own, Admiral?" Bacco asked, her penetrating stare indicating that she probably knew a great deal more than Murdock thought she did.

"I did." he replied simply. "As Commander In Chief of all the Federations Armed Forces, you have the authority to discipline me for that choice if ye feel the need. I will abide by yuir judgment Madam President."

Bacco made a 'cluck'ing sound as she tapped the stylus against her chin. "Well, there's nothing for it, I'm afraid, Admiral Murdock."

"As you've gone and cost me a perfectly good CinC, I'm just going to have to give you his job." she said, as though she was handing down a life sentence.

The old Scotsman's head snapped back in surprise. "Madame President?"

"You heard me, Old Man." she replied, using the nickname he'd acquired n Starfleet. "You were a good Captain. Right now, I think Starfleet needs the best leadership it's going to get. And I can tolerate you. It's you, or I drag Abrik out of retirement."

"In that case," Victor smiled. "I accept. Wouldn't do to have a man like Jas running the show."

"No Admiral, that wouldn't do at all." Bacco replied. "Now tuck in. There's plenty of work to be done, so you and I are running some extra innings tonight."

"Whatever ye say, Madame President"

"Simulations and Subordinates"

Lieutenant J.G. Miramon Terrik, Chief Flight Controller

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer

Set the evening after "Setting Up The Board"

-------

It was only halfway through their regular dinner at Ten Forward, that Saul Bental finally gave words to what was on his mind.

"Miramon, do you realize that me and you are the people in charge of how this ship performs in battle?", He asked, right after taking another bite from his Salmon toast.

"Scary thought, isn't it?" the Bajoran smiled as he watched Saul eat. He'd only picked up a quick pasta salad for his dinner, since he was going to be working late, so he didn't want to eat anything too heavy, lest he ended up feeling like he simply wanted to sit back and relax after a filling meal. "It was a good move, though, you heading into Tactical. The red doesn't suit you, though. But I guess the black was supposed to make you look enigmatic, huh? Now all your uniform does is highlight your face when you blush."

"Intelligence Officers don't blush.", Saul protested.

Miramon grinned in amusement. He wore the red as well, but since his hair was blonde, whereas Saul had darker hair more akin to the black that could be found on the jackets of their uniforms - the red could just be seen on the collar of the red shirts they both wore beneath them.

"What I can't get is how it is they trust you to shoot down anyone that opens fire on us, or keep us from being shot at in the first place. You're a terrible shot with a phaser, as I recall."

The Tactical chief (That's what he was now, Saul reckoned) frowned. "I don't know what are you talking about! I'm a pretty good shot with a hand phaser, although I had more practice with less standard weapons. Back on Utrecht, we had to settle for anything that came our way. The citizens' guard, that is."

"Sure, that's true of your people, but your Intel training would suggest that if you have to resort to using a weapon, you've pretty much failed in your mission, right? You know, covert operations and what have you."

Saul drifted for a second, the returned to reality. "Not only my Intelligence training suggest that, but my entire life. I'll be the first to admit that this ship is full of officers more qualified in controlling the ship's weapons than me. I really can't understand why I was given this promotion. Maybe Cora wanted me out of her hair."

"Funny, that's exactly what she said."

The Bajoran smiled and took another sip of the cold glass of iced tea he'd got perched in front of him. He'd already finished his salad, so he was quite happy to sit back and relax for a little while before wading back into the melee that was constituted by the number of PADDs sat on his desk - a pile which seemed to remain unsurmountable regardless of how many he seemed to get through. But then, he was sure that every time he read through one, there was information or data that he'd either missed or wanted to keep handy for when he read through some of ones currently on his desk. Being a department head wasn't as easy as he'd pinned it down to being.

"So...", Saul began, totally abandoning the pinkish Salmon piece still waiting to be eaten, "What did you do so far? As a department head, I mean."

Miramon smiled, then started talking. "Well, I have a briefing with the rest of the staff later, so I can give out their assignments for the mission, and we can get this mission started. I figured that we also had best get our two departments together at some point - sure, they know what they're doing, but since we're both new to command under these circumstances, we'd best see how they work together under fire, as such. I'd rather we tested that theory in simulations than have to wait until we're actually under fire, since otherwise we're not going to quite know how our crews react, and who to pair with whom on bridge operations. Once we've made our assessments, we can modify the rosters to ensure that our people end up pairing with another that complements their abilities. Should make things more efficient."

"That sounds great.", Saul nodded. "I thought about proposing a Tactical/Conn. exercise myself. We could try out several combat scenarios from recent times. Perhaps even the battle of Havras."

"Now we barely survived that one the first time, Saul. Frankly, I don't want to go through that again, much less subject anyone else to the encounter. We should take things a little more progressively - start with something tactically straightforward, then work out something complicated."

"Yes, yes, of course.", Saul shook his head. "In that case, we might try one of the Cardassian border skirmishes scenarios. Should prove to be simple, yet challenging enough to both pilots and tactical officers, to give us means to assess our officers."

Miramon grinned in amusement at his friend's suggestion. "I'm Bajoran. Imagine how that's gonna go down. But sure, if you want us to pretend we're shooting down Galors or Keldons, I'm all for it."

"Spoonheads it is, then. I'm not sure if we should start it immediatly or not, though. Things are pretty tense now.", Saul added, referring to the staff meeting the two participated in, earlier.

The Bajoran nodded his agreement. Given the discussions that the briefing had generated, and the things that they now had to do in order to have the mission proceed effectively without risking the ship, distracting the crew with exercises of such a nature might not be taken in good faith. Plus they could very easily be unconducive to morale if problems occured during the simulations themselves - even moreso if the crew was then forced into a situation where they'd have to put similar skills to the test under live fire.

"Alright. We'll discuss this one with Commander Henderson once we're through the current 'crisis'," Miramon noted with a slight twinge in his voice. "I doubt the command staff will disagree to running at least our departments through training drills, but it might be the case that they want to test all the departments to test out the new changes in the crew and to make sure that we retain full combat readiness even without the test of actual combat to prove it one way or the other."

Saul's gaze shifted to the far wall of ten forward, where the starry darkness of space could be seen through the viewports. "I just hope that we're combat-ready right now. Frankly, I don't think I am. If anything goes wrong, I think I might assign Darkstar or Rey'ol to the Tactical post on the main bridge, and just supervise."

"The best way for you to get experience on Tactical is to be there as often as your rotations allow. Besides, there's no point in being a tactical officer if you're not going to put things into practice. Sure, supervising you'll get a better feel for leadership, which might help later on, but unless you get hands-on, your chances for later promotion are going to drop considerably."

"Miramon, in combat situation, we can't afford any mistakes. Would you feel confident flying into battle, knowing that an inexperienced officer is manning Tactical? I know I wouldn't."

"Well, sure, I agree, but we're going to be doing those simulations too, and you're going to have chance to practice. Besides, I'm sure the Captain wouldn't have you in charge if he didn't think you capable of doing your job."

"The Captain... ah, it's a long story, the way I got this role. Sheer luck would probably describe it best."

The final piece of Salmon made its way to Saul mouth. It lingered there for a while, before he swallowed.

"Just to let you know, before it hits the rumor mill.", Saul said, looking around them to make sure no one is listening, "Me and Nara... decided to try. BUT we're trying to keep it as discrete as possible. There are enough reasons for not making it public knowledge. Thought you ought to know as our 'Marriage Councilor', though."

Miramon smiled. "Pre-marriage counsellor, Mr Bental. But I'm glad you two finally got your acts together. Not like we haven't spent ages discussing this one before. And look on the bright side - if you end up marrying, you've already got yourself a kid, and she's past the annoying stage of 3 to 8. All you have to put up with is the teenage years."

"They have STAGES?", Saul cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah.." Miramon wasn't really sure how it was that Saul didn't know that. Sure, different species had different developmental cycles - aside from the Q, who probably didn't have any at all - but inevitably the difference in mentality, physical changes and the like tended to move through stages - infancy, adolescence, adulthood etc.

"I mean, if you think about it, when they're babies, they cry a lot, tend to always want attention but are easily pleased. As they got older, they explore, want even more attention but do at least sleep. And then they hit the teenage years...but yeah, essentially that's it. So you're going have some fun."

"Actually, I don't see marrying anyone any time soon. Not before YOU do, you geezer.", Saul grinned.

"Me?" Miramon raised an incredulous eyebrow. "And when was the last time you remember me having had a date? Or the relationship problems which tend to appear from said date? Huh?"

"Well! I don't think I should be the only one with problems. I think it's high time yo find yourself true love. Heck, there are days when this ship looks like a modelling agency!"

Saul looked around him. It took his ten seconds to find what he was seeking. "See this fighter pilot? I'm pretty sure that she's new. And she's Bajoran - you will probably have tons of stuff to talk about! Like... prophets, and... earrings! What about her?"

"She's on my staff. Her name's Teyri Jen, she's 25, and she works as part of Vanguard Squadron, but also as a back-up navigation officer. Answer your question?"

"You forgot one thing.", Saul indicated.

"What exactly did I forget this time?"

"She is HOT, my friend! Don't tell Nara I said that."

"I knew you were gonna say that!" Miramon's voice was tinged with amusement, but it was clear from his tone that he still wasn't playing ball. "And even if I agreed, I'm her CO when she's working in my department. You don't date your subordinates. From another department, yeah, sure, but you date a person under your supervision, and you lose your objectivity as an officer. You know that."

"No no no. Rex is her CO. And by the way, I bet that he snogged some of his subordinates in the past...", Saul insisted, grinning devilishly.

"Not when she's working on my department, he's not. And yeah, he might have done, but you know me. I'm a little less, uh, fluid with these things. Besides, I'm no womaniser. Back home we have means and ways of doing things. And you're avoiding the real topic, Saul."

"Which is?"

"You and Nara, obviously."

Saul rolled his eyes. "I guess I'll just have to talk with Rex, department head to department head, and ask him to turn - what was her name, again? To a full-time fighter pilot. If it doesn't work, I'm sure the Galaxy modelling agency have many other women at your liesure."

Miramon's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. "NO! If you do that, and she doesn't like me, you'll have screwed her career up, and made me feel really guilty. And then I'LL make you feel really guilty. Comprende?"

"Would you stop taking me seriously already! Jesus Christ Henderson...", Saul sniggered, "But more seriously... I'm not a good example of this, but finding someone you truly love is... it's supposed to be amazing, and I'm sure it is. You're a good man, Miramon, and you probably look better than I do. I'm sure that you'll stop being a hermit the moment you desire."

"Whatever you say, but I have a cat and we're having this conversation, so I'd hardly call myself a hermit." Miramon's smile returned as he observed that one in amusement - nobody had ever called him a hermit before. Heck, living on a ship of over a thousand people hardly allowed for that, unless of course you happened to work down on the lower decks and locked yourself in your quarters for the rest of the time.

Saul chuckled, imagining Miramon and a cat - who looked strangly like Le'on from security - engaged in a theological debate.

"As for me and Nara - I have nothing to add. Either it'll work, or it won't. At least we're past denial."

"Took you long enough," the Bajoran asserted with a sly grin. "Just don't go all hesitant or start regretting things, otherwise you'll cave the relationship before you even begin."

"We're taking it slow, so unless she gets a brain and dumps me, I don't think we're going to crash. I... hope. Are you done?", He added, glancing at Miramon's plate.

Chuckling lightly, nodding as he did so, Miramon indicated Saul's own plate. "I was finished long before you were. Only eating light for now. Gives me a reason to come down here later once I've finished working and bug them for some dessert."

"Very well then.", Saul stood up. "If we're done here, let's go to make sure this vessel stays safe, shall we?"

"Yeah. We old 'Protectors of the Galaxy. USS." Miramon smiled as he stood up, dropping his napkin on the cleared plate remaining on the table, then followed Saul out of Ten Forward.

"Mundus vult decipi" Part Four

Staring from Starbase 212
Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC]
Also featuring Damil'Ka of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon female [NPC]
Morghot of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon male [NPC]

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

***Starbase 212 conference room 3***

"There's still a missing link here." Westmoreland realized, as he poured over the first few pages of the report. "You had the original reports, the evidence that the isolinear rods that were used in the investigation were fake, and you knew also knew who the third operative was. I still don't understand why you two had to go to the Orion system and infiltrate in the Orion Syndicate."

The Klingon male shifted in his seat. This was where things got a bit complicated. "Because, sir, we also found evidence that the Orions were in possession of a prototype of a new type of cloaking device."

"What has got that to do with it?" Westmoreland asked, now even more disturbed. "As far as I can see it was of no importance to your mission. It's highly disturbing, I'll grant you that, but it was of no concern to you. It should have been reported to Starfleet Security or Starfleet Intelligence."

"But sir, if your read further you see that the new type cloaking device was developed and manufactured by Section 31." The Klingon male said. He continued, giving the Commodore no room to interrupt. "And the third operative is a member of Section 31 who knew that two of those cloaking devices were transported by the Freighter to Starbase 86. He leaked that information to the Orions, who attacked the Freighter and beamed one of the cloaking devices on board their ship."

Westmoreland kept silent. He simply didn't know what to believe here, but the facts seem to be all there.

The Klingon male continued. "That information, about the existence of a cloaking device, was discovered after we did out own analysis of the sensor logs of the ships that scanned the debris field after the Freighter was attacked. It brought forth some rare subspace anomalies that were only known to be formed after a cloaking device was destroyed in a highly energetic explosion, like a warp core breach. Now, the third operative could tell us the names of who really had tampered with the isolinear rods."

*** Flashback Bellatrix XI near the Orain boarder ***

Damil'Ka wasn't entirely happy with the meeting point to get on to the Orion ship, this planet was even colder than the last one and the bar was rougher. At least they served Blood wine, even though she was sure they hadn't washed the glasses in months. She tried not to cringe as she watched the fat Bolian bar tender spit into the glass and wipe it with a rag that looked like it had been washed out with engine oil!

Her focus turned from the fat old man and her Blood wine with extra floaty foamy bits to the door as it opened with force, the gale outside whipped in through the bar trailing leaves in its wake and a pile of snow.

The Andorian stomped his boots in the doorway and glared at the bar tender. Before the Andorian had opened his mouth to order his drink the bartender had it ready. The Yridian was right. This was obviously the Andorians drinking hole, maybe one of many. And he had a chip on his shoulder the size of a planet.

Damil'Ka continued to drink her beverage keeping an eye on the Andorian and his colleagues that soon followed.

Five of them in total, of different races, some that she had never seen before surrounded her table. Damil'Ka was totally unfazed, true they were all bigger than her, and she was somewhat small, considering what she had been through in the last few months. But she sat back and swirled her drink in her glass, not paying them the least mind as they snorted at her.

The Andorian placed his palms down on the table and eyeballed her. Leaning in close enough for her to smell his breath and, yes, taste what he had had for dinner, he roared, "This is MY table Klingon."

Damil'Ka licked her teeth and looked at the Andorian as his antennas twitched in annoyance. Slowly she stood up, not giving him an inch of ground. they were nose to nose, and boy did his breath stink!

"I am Damil'Ka daughter of Ganka, house of Hagh'Cha and you have no right to speak to me like that. Who do you think you are?" she replied. But before he could reply she pushed him, using the palms of her hands, she rammed into his chest, knowing pressure points on Andorians bodies was useful after all! It sent a jolt through him and the sudden pain combined with the unexpected blow sent him flying to the ground.

Before the rest had time to respond Damil'Ka had her disrupter pointed at the Captain of this sorry group, and it wasn't the dead beet on the floor!

The Orian she was pointing her disrupter at was quite small. He was at least a foot shorter than she was! He didn't look too old, but his eyes did give him away. He laughed somewhat loudly as if this was all a big joke to him. Damil'Ka tried her hardest not to shake, she had to keep focused, and keep her arm steady.

"You're a bit of a fire ball." He said taking a step forward.

Damil'Ka kept her weapon raised.

"There is no need for this." He continued in a civil tone, "We will sit elsewhere. Come." He gestured to the rest of his party.

"You will sit where I tell you to sit." Damil'Ka replied, unwavering.

The Orian was no longer amused his eyes flamed and his face seemed to flush a darker shade of green, "And why do you think I will do as you say Klingon?" he asked his voice low.

"Because you are in need of my services." She replied. Moving her arm she targeted the Andorian who had previously been on the floor and hoped to god that her sources were right. Pulling the trigger she fired her disrupter, it hit him squarely in the chest.

The Andorian dematerialised in a red glow.

"I am your new engineer." Damil'Ka said lowering her weapon.

***

"Once I was on board the real hunting could begin." She said continuing before the Commodore could question her actions on the planet.

"I joined her as soon as the T'Kengra got me." the male chipped in quickly, "And together we managed to get the evidence off the Orian ship." he too produced another data rodd, "All this information is in the pad, but these are the originals."

He seemed a little reluctant to hand them over. After all his troubles getting this evidence, he didn't want to let go of it. He didn't want this to be swept under the carpet like it had before. His honour was at stake. Gee he was even thinking like a Klingon now..

*** Flash back, Orion ship***

Damil'Ka was nervous, though she hid it well. She had passed her first hurdle; getting on to the Orian's ship. Though why they hadn't killed her on the spot she wasn't sure. She had taken one hell of a risk but so far it had paid off.

The ship was like any other. And she had worked on a lot of ships during her life, so this one wasn't really difficult. The lay out was of course different, and the way the ship ran and engineering, but on the whole it wasn't rocket science. Well not to her at least.

Sitting in the small engineers office drinking rakdgeno Damil'Ka searched through the crews manifest. She was looking for something, anything that would spark a connection. She knew the man she was looking for was on this ship, all the answers were here she just had to find the right questions.

And that was the hard part.

Sighing slightly the Klingon woman stood up and left the office for the mess hall.

Everywhere she went she felt on guard. Every corner of this ship she scanned mentally and physically looking for traps and danger. It was stressful and tiring to say the least. She had been here for a week and so far her friend hadn't joined her. She was getting worried about him too. And that was making her even more edgy.

Entering the mess hall Damil'Ka took a long look around as she walked to the table. Again noting everyone as she sat down.

Taking the dish of food offered to her she nodded and began to eat. The food wasn't to her taste but then she had eaten a lot of crap too and this was no different.

"I thought that Klingons only ate gagh!"

Damil'Ka looked up at the person opposite her and stared, "Then you don't know much about Klingons then do you." She replied flatly looking back down at her food.

The man snorted in disgust, "I also thought that all Klingons had honour. Maybe I was mistaken about that too." he retorted.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she questioned the stout Rigelian staring at him with one eye, the other was on her food.

"Well I just thought that Klingons had honour is all." He replied, "And we are pirates." He said gesturing to the others at the table, "How honourable is that for a Klingon?"

Damil'Ka was tired of this, she began deliberating to punch him once, or repeatedly till she got bored. Before she made her mind up she noticed something, the recognition of this feeling sent a chill down her spine. Her whole body stiffened and her eyes glazed over as she set down her food. The fat Rigelian opposite her continued his barbs but Damil'Ka didn't hear him.

She turned round slowly and watched the 'sent' as it flowed by. She had found the third operative. What a blast from the past. The dead really do walk, she deadpanned to herself.

"You will never know anything about honour Rigelian." She replied nonchantly as she stood up, "And next time we 'talk'," she turned her head sharply to face him, her fangs glinted in the light and the low growl that escaped from her throat silenced the fat latinum lover, "you had better watch your tongue."

Walking backwards, never letting her eyes off the Rigelian until she had out-stared him she left the room with a twisted smile on her face.

As the door to the mess hall closed the smile instantly left her face and she could feel a sinking sensation in her stomach.

Of all the people in the entire galaxy, why did the third operative have to be him?

Why him?

Of all the people...

Him.

~Because it was always about him~ A voice inside her replied. ~For thepast seven years it's been about him.~

"Mundus vult decipi" Part Five

Guest staring from Starbase 212: Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC]

Also Featuring: Damil'Ka of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon female
Morghot of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon male Third operative, unnamed

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

*** Flashback - Orion ship ***

The corridor was dark, only the night lights were on, as the ship cruised through space. Damil'Ka had no idea where there next destination was or how they were going to get off when the shit hit the fan. But she lived in hope, or rather fear.

For some reason she felt it now more than ever; the fear.

Turning the corner she stopped, as that realization hit her. She wasn't scared, she was used to this sort of environment; she thrived in this situation. She wasn't scared of what was around the corner. Her eyes sparkled as she noted the trail of fear.

But then why would 'he' be afraid?

Of what, and of who?

Ignoring the feeling that danced through the corridor like shadows she continued to the junction at the end.

"Nishta!" a voice called out behind her.

Damil'Ka froze in the corridor. The gentle hissing as the door closed filled her ears.

"What? Do you think that it's only you that can sense me?"

His voice grew quieter as he came nearer, though it lost none of its edge. She could feel his anger like waves crashing against a cliff face. It penetrated his every word. Every movement he made was full of concealed rage.

Damil'Ka didn't turn round, just stared dead ahead, paralyzed by his emotions.

"That good bye kiss wasn't a one way street, Nish!"

She could feel his breath on her cheek now, soft sweet and warm. And his fingertips as they clutched her uncovered arms, his grip was so hard, almost as if he was trying to penetrate her skin with his fingers.

And still she did not turn just focused in front of her as if this was some nightmare that she was going to wake up from.

She had dreamed of him so many times. She had run into his arms, she had longed for this with every beat of her heart. And now she was here, and there was no love, no sweet reconciliation, nothing. Just this pit of hatred that flowed from him, towards her.

Slowly she took a breath as her mind raced through the situation. He couldn't know why she was here, could he?

Opening her mouth she went to speak, "Ch."

Before she finished her sentence he whipped her round to face him, her neck clicking in the process.

Frowning she glared at him.

"Don't say it don't even think it." He hissed at her, "That name means nothing to me." he half shouted through whispers.

Damil'Ka stared, this wasn't the man she knew, the man she loved. He looked like a shadow of him. His clothes, his hair. His face was sunken, thin and bony, his eyes were dull and tired looking, huge rings surrounded them.

Another shadow carefully came towards the two, coming from behind the man that held Damil'Ka He pulled out a D'k tagh and with one single move placed it on the throat of the man before him. "You picked a bad day to harass a Klingon."

The man let go of Damil'Ka instantly, raising his hands up in the air. Damil'Ka searched his face before looking at the man behind him.

She smiled slightly. She knew that face! She though that she wouldn't recognize him, but she couldn't mistake it, even though he looked nothing like he had when she had last seen him.

"This is my brother. Dog Boy!" Damil'Ka said, her lips curling with slight enjoyment.

"Brother?" the man questioned still with the knife blade digging into his skin.

"Yes!" she said simply.

"Oh!" was all he could muster.

Morghot frowned when he heard the nickname 'dog boy'. If he didn't knew Damil'Ka better he would find it rather degrading. "Who is this P'tagh, Damil'Ka?"

"We were just getting acquainted." She replied still smiling, "You know why they call him dog boy don't you?" she asked leaning into the man before her. "The humans say he's like a pit bull. Once he sinks his teeth in, he never lets go!" she stepped closer and whispered, "Though I wouldn't like your chances if you called him that." She was really getting into her part now. It felt like years since she had been in this sort of situation. She felt the rush flow through her. She liked to ride!

Morghot grinned, showing his teeth to the man. "My D'k tagh has not seen blood for months. An unused D'k tagh is worthless. But there's no honor is killing such a pathetic and unarmed man as you."

He turned ever so slowly round as the Klingon behind him lowered his weapon. "There was a misunderstanding." He said cautiously, "I thought your sister was someone else."

The Chinese man was pulled up until he stood on his toes as Morghot grabbed him by the throat. "And who might that be? What is it that she has that is so valuable? Is it worth so much that you act this dishonorable?"

He squirmed in the Klingons grip wriggling to get free casting a glance at the woman, he was sure it was her.. but as the Klingon 'dog face', 'boy' whatever yanked him up and down like a rag doll he stopped looking at her. He couldn't tell him who he though she was, he couldn't say anything right now. So he did the only other thing he was good at.

He begged for his life!

The begging went on a minute after which Morghot set him down. Right after that he forcefully hit the man on the head with the shaft of his D'k tagh. The begging stopped abruptly. "I hate begging..."

Damil'Ka grinned widely and knelt down next to the little man, "Now, you're going to help us.. Or I'll let dog boy here chew on you like a bone!"

***

Jim stared at the two Klingons before him. This puzzle of theirs was finally sinking into place.

"So," he began looking at the male Klingon, "you were on a freighter traveling back to your ship. You did some modifications to their deflector array and had to drop out of warp to do so. And then the Orions attacked. You said you had the captain's permission to drop out of warp and she, along with the first officer said you didn't. They produced evidence to support this and you were demoted for dereliction of duty." He summarized the events that happened five years ago.

The Klingon nodded along as the Commodore spoke. He had described it accurately. Clinically and to the point, the part 'demoted for dereliction of duty' still ringing in his ears.

"You accepted this until you received information that suggested that the captain and the first officer were working for section 31. In light of this you then went back to Earth to retrieve the information from the original investigation. You found that the isolinear rods were fakes, proving that the testimony of the captain and her first officer was false. So," he took a breath and paused for a second, "heading down the route that the captain was working for section 31 you did your own digging and found evidence of a cloaking device created and manufactured by section 31. You then began to theorize what their plan was.." Jim stood up as he spoke and began to pace behind his desk.

"You proposed that section 31 were manufacturing these prototype cloaking devices and that the ship was transporting them for the Section. News of this was leaked to the Orions and they attacked the ship to get the cloaking device. And you believe that there were two, one the Orions got the other destroyed in the warp core breach. And you theorized that there must have been a third operative, the one that leaked the information. So in light of that assumption you disguised yourself as Klingons and infiltrated the Orion Syndicate, obtained passage on an Orion ship to find the third operative and gain the further information you needed."

He paused and looked up at the two, "Is that right? Have I got all of it?"

"Yes sir" the female responded, surprised that it was finally sinking in.

"So tell me." Jim said leaning closer to the female "How the hell did you get the Klingons of all people to help you?"

"Well, I have a very persuasive contact on the T'Kengra. In fact I grew up with a lot of them. But it wasn't as easy as that."

"No doubt." Jim retorted. The Klingons were known to go on fool hardy missions, they usually had a bit more sense than this. These two must have been.. persuasive.

"You see the Orion I 'killed' was wanted by the Klingon High Council for many crimes. His name was Sozhanarich 'Zhan' th'Rhavthirasa. When I pushed him over I attached a tracer transporter to him. It was set to beam up to the T'Kengra, once activated by the disrupter blast. The Klingons had been trying to catch him for years. So we did a trade. They helped us and we gave them a criminal. Who is now on his way to a Klingon court." She smiled slightly; it was an understatement that she felt proud of what she had done.

Jim stared at her for a few seconds. This story was wiled. Sitting down on his desk he frowned, "And what of the cloaking device?"

"We sabotaged that." She replied.

Jim nodded. At least that was taken care of. "And the third operative?"

She looked down at the floor for a second, "We weren't able to get his identity, but he did provide us the information we needed." She looked at her counterpart for confirmation.

He nodded and handed the Commodore another data padd.

Jim thumbed through it and shook his head. Amazing. This really was something.

He looked back at the pair, "I have just one more question for you." He said.

"Mundus vult decipi" Part Six (Final part)

Guest Staring from Starbase 212:
Commodore Jim Westmoreland, CO, SB 212 [NPC, played by Pat]
James Owen, CMO, SB 212 [NPC]

Also Featuring:
Lieutenant (jg) Dhanishta Eshe, Engineer posing as - Damil'Ka of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon female
& Michael McDowell, civilian, posing as - Morghot of the House of Hagh'Cha, Klingon male

*Mundus vult decipi, Latin, Translation: The world wants to be deceived so let it be deceived.*

***Starbase 212 conference room 3***

Westmoreland looked over the report again. Silence returned to the room once more. He was amazed that they had done all this, and returned with their lives. The Commodore looked up and studied them closely.

"Just tell me one thing." He said slowly.

The two looked at each other and then back at the commodore and nodded.

"Why did you risk your life for this? I understand that you wanted to restore your name, that's an eminently understandable goal. No one wants this sort of thing on their permanent record. But you traveled a long and dangerous road towards getting justice for yourself..." he trailed off studying them closely,

"And what was in it for you?" he asked the woman.

She looked at the man sitting next to her and smiled.

*** Flashback: Trill, Leran Manev View Hospital ***

It had been seven days since the USS Galaxy had departed. Dhani had surprised all by making such a speedy recovery. The Doctors aided greatly in her progress by looking after her 24/7 in any way possible. A day ago Dhani and Michael had their first 'normal' conversation, meaning they had just talked instead of doing it telepathically.

"Michael?" Dhani said disturbing the silence. "Why did you leave?"

It was Dhani who asked the question, one which caught Michael off guard. He'd been reading a book for some hours now. "I'm sorry? Leave?"

Dhani stayed serious. "Yes." She said looking at him, "Why did you leave the ship and Starfleet?" The question had been burning away inside since she had woken up. In fact it had been on her mind while she woke up, the first thing she had said to him was about his departure. 'You didn't say goodbye!' she still needed to know why he left. And maybe he needed to know how much it hurt that he left. For a second she blushed at her resurfacing feelings.

"Oh, well, that's a long story. I..." Michael said, but was cut off by Dhani.

"Don't do this Michael." Dhani answered with a kind of urgency in her voice. "You just left without saying anything, without saying goodbye! Save for that one message. I need to know..." her eyes pleaded with him as she turned to face him fully wrinkling the blankets on her bed.

For seconds long Michael looked into Dhani's eyes, then sighed. "Alright, you really want to know?" he continued once he saw Dhani nodding. "This is going to take a while."

"I'm not going anywhere." Dhani replied quickly gesturing the room and the fact that she was still bed bound. She'd waited a long time to hear from Michael and, now that he was with her again, had to know what happened to him.

"Not yet, but soon." Michael smiled. "The Doctors told me so."

Dhani smiled back. She couldn't wait to get out of this bed and walk without a thousand people to cushion her fall.

"Anyway, if I'm going to tell you about what happened, I might as well start from the beginning. It started years ago right after I first left the Galaxy, before you were assigned to the ship. It was for personal reasons. Sometime before that I had been in a six months coma due to an accident on Grainus VI. I couldn't cope with life after that, and I needed some time all for myself."

Michael stopped and got himself some water over at the replicator. "I left for Earth and stayed with my parents for the next six weeks. But, in the end I found myself again, so to speak, and I rejoined Starfleet. I was assigned to the USS Windsor as Assistant Chief Engineer. This was all going fine. No problems. It all started going wrong when I got passage on a Freighter to Starbase 86. No right away, but a day or two later."

"So, what happened?" Dhani asked. Until now Michael hadn't told her why he left. He had never told her that he had been in a coma either. Now that was going to make for an interesting conversation over dinner. That's if he came back with her to the Galaxy. What if he didn't? Dhani didn't let that thought fester, shaking her head quickly she looked back and Michael.

"I'm getting there. Be patient will you." Michael winked at her, letting her know he didn't meant it as harshly as he said it. "This story isn't told in few minutes."

Sitting back in the bed she got comfortable, letting him know she was here for the long haul!

"So,...things did really go bad when we were halfway to Starbase 86. We had dropped out of warp because I had to take some sub-systems of the Deflector Array offline. Mind you, this was all done with the Captain's permission. We traveled further on impulse speeds, only for about 15 to 20 minutes at most, but right at that time the Freighter was attacked. Just out of the blue and for no particular reason. We were able to get out in an escape pod. Well, at least the Captain, Master Chief, and I. The rest of the crew didn't make it..."

Michael halted. His thoughts going back to that moment where he saw the ship explode as its Warp core went critical. All those innocent people,...58 to be exact.

Dhani watched him closely. He didn't understand just how far their link went, she could see the imagery clearly in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment and looked down at the bed sheets. Part of her felt guilty for asking, but she still wanted to know. She reached out and took his hand squeezing it slightly to let him know that she understood. It finally dawned on her just how much of her life he had missed too. The last year or so had been quite eventful. She had seen so much death and pain and he hadn't been there. Though that was a good thing, he didn't need the extra baggage. Tough saying that Dhani didn't want it either!

"After that we were lucky enough to be picked up by a ship that was dispatched from the Starbase to look for us. Lucky because our emergency beacon wasn't working. What happened next was nothing surprising. An investigation was started by Starfleet's orders. What was surprising was that, in the end, I was blamed for the demise of the Freighter.Be it indirectly. ...And that in turn got me demoted. I'm sure you've noticed that when I returned to the Galaxy."

Dhani stared up at him her eyes wide in surprise "You?" she said, "how were you blamed?" she frowned not really seeing the link there!

"Why I was blamed for it? Yeah, good question." Michael said, not even trying to hide his sarcasm. "Let me explain how they came to that."

*** One hour later ***

"So, you see, no matter what I said or tried...they wouldn't listen. After they 'examined' the isolinear rods...the whole investigation was over and done with. Of course, I had little evidence to prove that something else had happened. But I know I'm not the one to blame! I'm not the one who was careless or didn't abide by the Captains orders. I'm innocent! But they didn't care one bit...or so it seemed anyway." Michael sat down after having paced back and forth from window to door.

Dhani s frown had only deepened during his explanation. This was so outrageous she couldn't even form a coherent sentence in her head, well not one that wasn't laced with un-pleasantries!

"That's just, I mean. I can't believe that! Really Starfleet? Starfleet wouldn't do that, they are all about fare trial..." She trailed off knowing full well that that was never the case. No 'empire' was completely clean, not even her precious Federation. She had learned that back at the Academy.

Michael didn't react on Dhani's comment but only sighed for the umpteenth time. He was still not completely over it, though the incident itself happened quite some years ago. It was quiet for a some minutes as Michael just stared in front of him. Then he turned to Dhani again.

"The reason I left the Galaxy, Dhani, was to once and for all prove my innocence. When the Galaxy was at Gryphon Asteroid Belt, I was contacted by some people there who said they had important information about what really had happened. Information which had not been presented while the investigation took place. After I read through the information, and did some research of my own, I came to believe it was true and I believed them. I,...couldn't ignore it Dhani. I had to take the chance." After having said that, Michael couldn't look into Dhani's eyes anymore and so he stood up and walked to the window, putting some distance between them. He now knew that his 'goodbye' message had not been enough and he wondered why he had not seen that earlier.

Dhani looked down at the bead sheets again, "I understand your need for honor to be restored. Hell Michael I've lived with Klingons since I was a teenager. I just wish you could have told me. Trusted me enough to tell me." she trailed off not wanting to get into any sort of fight or hurt his feeling, or even show hers. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it all, so much had happened since he left.

"So did you succeed?" she asked moving along before he could comment on what she had said.

"No,...I can't. Not yet. I've tracked down some leads, but it's not enough." Michael said. He turned around, now that he had courage enough to face Dhani again. "Fact is, I'm stuck. I can get info from Starfleet records, call in a few favours, but the Orion Syndicate is out of my reach..."

Dhanis eyes widened, Orion Syndicate? Wow that was deep. They killed anyone and everyone who crossed there path. She eyed Michael with a new respect. But if he continued down that path he was likely to get himself killed.

"I want to help." She said quickly. She hadn't seen him in a year, and if he did this alone then she was likely to never see him again, he was lucky he had lasted this long. And she wasn't prepared to say good bye to him again.

Michael frowned and shook his head. "I can't let you. You don't know what you're getting into Dhani. I appreciate your offer for help,...but I can't take it."

Dhani stared at him, her eyes narrowing. "If you think I'm going to let you leave this hospital and go off alone after the bloody Orian Syndicate you've got another thing coming my boy!" she screamed at him, "You could have died you idiot!" grabbing a pillow she threw it at him in fury, "And no one would have known! And I would have lost you AGAIN!" she quickly silenced her self and flooded her arms. Trying not to cry. Instead she fumed silently, her nostrils flaring, "I'm coming with you!" she said defiantly not able to look at him as her eyes continued to well up.

Another silence. One which Michael needed to recover from Dhani's outburst. He never seen her acting like this, not unless she was really mad or in some sort of trouble. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?" he finally stated solemnly. He didn't mind the idea of Dhani helping him,...but he feared all the danger she could face if she did.

"No!" she replied looking at him sternly with her black penetrating eyes.

***

"Friendship." She replied simply. She turned and looked at the man sitting next to her. She loved him more than words could say, he was her best friend. And that notion had been alien to her for so many years. She would trust him with her life, and gladly give up hers to save his. She smiled at him and moved her hand ever so slightly so that it would brush against his, without the Commodore noticing.

"Yeah, friendship." The Klingon male looked back at her. "Friendship, loyalty, honor and..." There was more to it than that, far more, but this was not the right moment to say that. He only hoped that Dhani felt the same way.

"That's a hell of a friend you've got there, son."

The door chirped making everyone jump slightly.

"Enter." Jim called out

The doors parted and James stood panting. He had run all the way from the infirmary with the report. He was shocked to say the least at the results he had found. Cross checking them against everything he had. And now here he stood without a doubt in his mind.

"I have the results sir." He said stepping into the conference room.

"Well out with it man." Jim said plainly.

"They are not Klingons at all!" James said crossing the room quickly to stand beside his Commodore, he looked accusingly at the 'Klingons' in front of him.

Handing Westmoreland the data padd her stood cock sure, "This," he said pointing to the male, "Is Michael McDowell, former engineering officer from the USS Galaxy, Lieutenant junior grade. And she is Lieutenant junior grade Dhanishta Eshe, also an engineer on the Galaxy.."

Jim nodded. He already knew this. After hearing their story, as bizarre as it was he had figured it out for himself.

"Thank you James." He replied plainly.

James looked down shocked, "But I thought that." he began frowning. This didn't make any sense to him. He had found out that they weren't who they said they were, or even the species that they looked like and the Commodore was okay with this? They were fakes.

"That will be all Doctor." Jim said solemnly. "Thank you."

James looked back at the two 'Klingons' and huffed to himself. Disgruntled he left the Commodores office and sloped back to the infirmary.

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