"Speak of the Devil"

Featuring the complete ARC Project Group...

Second Lieutenant Greg Ward
Blue Team Commander/ARC Operations Commander -USS Galaxy (PCC)

Tech SGT Carol "Foe-Hammer" Rowley
Blue Team/ARC Operations Transport Pilot-USS Galaxy
(NPC)

Corpal Richard Simmons
Infantry-Red Team/ARC Trooper (Science)-USS Galaxy
(NPC)

Corpal Mike Tucker
Infantry-Blue Team/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Private Michael J. Caboose
Infantry-Blue Team/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Private Franklin Donut
Infantry-Red Team/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Sergeant Douglas Berry
Infantry-Blue Team (2nd Squad)/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy
(NPC)

Lance Corpal Grace Waldron
Infantry (Sniper)-Blue Team/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy
(NPC)

Staff Sergeant Sachiko Asaki
Infantry-Red Team/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Private First Class Leonard L. Church
Blue Team (Recon/Sniper)/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

==============================================

Time: Set after "Marines Rock"
Location: Marine briefing room 2, "Marine Country"-USS Galaxy

The members of the Galaxy's Advanced Recon Commando unit was sitting around a briefing table. Several of the unit's primary members was on Mirusa and did well there but they were able to recover quickly as they were not subjected to the same incidents as the other teams.

The various members of the unit were already dressed in their "skull suits", the ARC version of the standard marine combat suit. Each one of them stood ready for deployment and they each were chomping at the bit that the hazard team was being sent in first and not them, but that didn't mean that they were not going to just sit around and do nothing.

"What is the current status of our transport, Foe hammer?" Greg asked as he sat down a PADD onto the table before him.

"Anduril is prepped and ready for deployment. Her armory is also full packed and ready, sir." Foe-Hammer replied from her seat.

"Sir, why are the hazards being sent in first when we are more than capable of doing what they want them to do?" Berry asked from his seat

"It's the captain's decision and Lieutenant London apparentally did argue that fact to the captain but he felt that the Hazards could do a much better prelim and scouting mission." Greg said as he stood up and activated the wall monitor, showing a tactical view of the outside of the ship.

"As you can see here, something very bad has apparentally happened here, the fighter that we picked up a while ago had both federation and Triad enemy fire damage done to it. Upon arrival of the Galaxy to Deep Space Five, we found evidence of some kind of major battle, life signs on the station and the remains of the ships are all sporadic at best." Greg said as he began the briefing, he then switched the monitor to a shot of the Galaxy.

"In a little bit a shuttle carrying the hazard detachment plus an ensign Slayton from engineering will be sent over to deep space five, once the base scouting of the station has been completed, then we are going to be sent over. No idea how long that is going to take but what is known is that we are effectivly on red alert ourselves." Greg explained, stopping long enough for that to sink in.

"Red Alert, no ARC detachment has bee put on that level since Havaras..." Church stated, remebering that Fox unit was stationed on the Galaxy class starship, USS Octavian which was lost in that conflict with the entire unit aboard her.

"Exactly, we might be looking at heavy combat with the forces of the so called Triad and as much, I want you each to double up on energy packs for your weapons and pack a back up just in case." Greg said looking at each of his ARCs in turn. "I want this done by the numbers. I want us to be througho and complete in checking of the station, I want all weapons set to heavy stun but not kill." Greg then looked at the unit's snipers and pointed at them and said very pointedly:

"And no distengrations."

"Alright, get some grub but nothing that would take forever to eat as we may have to move out at a moments notice, dismissed." Greg finished as he turned off the monitor.

The members of the Galaxy's ARC detachment then got up and left, leaving the project leader alone in the briefing room to think...

"Exploring the Ashes, pt 1" or "Introductions"

Ensign Kiel Counselor, USS Galaxy
& Lieutenant Kettch
Vanguard Squadron Flight Officer (PCC of Pat's used with his permission)

Location: Galaxy Starfighter Flight Deck
Soundtrack: "Blue Paper" by Moby

******

There are as many people as there are stars in the sky.

That was something that his parents had taught him. Something he'd never really thought about, until now. The view of those same stars, which he had taken so for granted, now obscured called to mind the idiom so fondly quoted by people he hadn't seen or heard from in four or more years. Fingers brushed against the smooth, cold surface of transparent aluminum; his reflection staring back at him with his same soft expression as the El-Aurian's silvery hazel eyes peered through the window out upon what should have been a sea of black decorated with white diamond stars. A view denied him, veiled by a shroud of debris that blanketed the region of space outside the ship like a funeral pall.

Each errant scrap of metal that flew by had, at one time, been something that had impacted the life of someone now gone. Perhaps a trivial little something. Perhaps something more functional. Perhaps nothing more than a fond remembrance. A chair. A child's toy. In a way, the debris field was proof of their existence. In the same sense, it was a reminder that was had been lost was beyond measure. Salvagers might estimate the material worth of the debris, but no one would ever know the measure by which those who had died here had valued them. It was that sentimentality that had been lost. That, and so much more.

And still, life moved on, the youth thought to himself as he let his hand slide away from the window to turn and face the smallish, furred creature that had come to retrieve him. "Yes, I'm ready," the fair haired boy answered, forcing a quiet, reserved smile as he answered the question that the diminutive starfighter pilot had asked him a moment before, while he'd been gazing out the window. Adjusting his uniform tunic, the young ensign zipped up the front of the gray/black jacket as he moved toward the entrance to the Galaxy's flight deck.

Beside him strode the smallish Kowe lieutenant, looking every inch like a teddy bear dressed in a miniature SFFC uniform. Not that appearances were anything that could be trusted. Except for Kiel's. With Kiel, what you saw was exactly what you got. It was really just a matter of understanding just what it was that you were seeing in order to understand him. The juvenile El-Aurian carried himself in the manner attributed to his people. If he seemed mysterious, then it was only because people mistrusted anything so simple. People didn't like things to be simple though. They liked to confuse things by categorizing and neatly labeling every aspect of the things they encountered in their lives.

In contrast, Kiel simply was. Just what exactly he was, that was a matter he never dwelt upon. It was enough that he breathed and that he thought. Really, the lives of people were beyond any unit of measure that could be conceived. In the same sense, so were the value of those lives.

"I say, you're not quite human... are you," came the ice breaking question from Lieutenant Kettch, his slightly clipped British accent adding a kind of alluring hum to his speech. The inquiry had interrupted the boy's thoughts, though his only answer was a soft, creeping smile that displayed the dimple in the right cheek of his smooth, round face.

In fact, Kiel did look human, and juvenile. On the cusp of adolescence, though his gait betrayed none of the awkwardness of those last years of childhood. This was the rare opportunity in which he worked with someone who didn't look down him, as the El-Aurian stood a head shy of five feet. The dark uniform only served to accent his slim, wiry build. A shock of short, spiked blonde hair stood out from his head, against which a pair of blue sunglasses rested atop his cranium. Definitely not regulation, but then regulation was something Kiel tended to give only enough attention so as to not wind up in the brig.

"Have you ever flown before, counselor," Kettch inquired, leading the boy over to the Vanguard ten starfighter, which was housed to one side of the bay. Colorful deck crew in their various jumpsuits moving around, preparing the fighter for launch.

"Once or twice, yes," the youth answered quietly, glancing up to smile at a medic as the sergeant brought him a medical kit and tricorder. The sergeant also produced a phaser, seeing that the boy was unarmed; to which the El-Aurian merely shook his head, even as he slung the med kit over his shoulder and tucked the tricorder in it's pocket on the side of his uniform trousers. Kiel was not opposed entirely to weapons. And he knew how to use them, as he'd been required to pass those courses in the Academy. Those had been the only time that he had aimed for passing marks... and nothing more. He could enjoy a reputation for many things, even being a flirt and a scoundrel. But not for knowing how to kill well. He knew enough to defend himself, or to defend another. That was all that he needed to know.

Sliding into the passenger seat of the starfighter, Kiel dropped his sunglasses down into place over his multicolored gaze as soon as he'd properly restrained himself in the bucket-style seat there, glancing over to where Kettch was humorously perched over the flight controls. The two of them were a surreal pair to behold. A walking, talking teddy bear and a young boy; both of whom were officers in the fleet. Perhaps it was true then, that Starfleet was the example of infinite diversity in infinite combinations.

"Should be just a short trip, counselor," the Kowe remarked, seemingly as much to himself in order to break the growing silence. Silence was an often feared or misunderstood thing to most, it seemed. Few grasped how to listen to it. While the lieutenant guided them off the flight deck, the youth merely glanced outside of the canopy. Particles and pieces of the debris cloud were reflected in the mirror finish of his sunglass lenses as the fighter slid smoothly out into the dense, artificial nebula.

In the distance, drifting aimlessly at the far end of the cloud, a derelict Nova-class starship tumbled through the lifeless vacuum of space. Her hull pitted. Starboard nacelle sheared off. Navigational deflector impales upon a duranium shaft, which it must have collided with in the debris field. The ship was also one with emergency bulkheads maintaining a thin atmosphere and life support inside.

That was where they were going. To see what mysteries the ghost ship might yield in order to find some answers to the events that had occurred to have caused the disaster at Deep Space 5.

"Exploring the Ashes, part 2" or "Adrift"

Ensign Kiel Counselor, USS Galaxy
& Lieutenant Kettch
Vanguard Squadron Flight Officer (PCC of Pat's used with permission)

Location: Debris field around DS5
Soundtrack: "Homeward Angel" by Moby

* * * * * * *

The Kowe lieutenant eased his starfighter through the debris with a feigned air of aloof ease, one that was undermined by the tense lines around the furry creature's dark eyes. Flying this synthetic asteroid field was not an easy task, no matter how casually the fuzzy pilot wanted to make the process seem. Kiel allowed Kettch to maintain this uninvolved illusionary aire, giving no indication that he had any doubts as to the simplicity with which the Kowe accomplished his task with a polish. The fact that the furry flight officer put forth that effort was proof of the pride that the lieutenant had for his profession.

For his part, the young psychologist-in-training eased back into his seat, his head rolling to the side to stare out of the canopy's transparent aluminum construction into the field of ghosts and memories that swirled on all sides of them. Memories of lives forgotten or unknown, lost now. But why? And how? It seemed a safe bet that there were a lot of people in this universe who were not going to feel any sense of closure about the graveyard that the Galaxy had discovered until someone started coming up some answers to those questions.

Which was part of why he had been asked to ride shotgun on this away mission. A counselor. Someone able to assist with any survivors coping with this tragedy, should they be so lucky to find some. As the counselors also augmented the medical team in sickbay during red alert, the El-Aurian was also trained to serve as an emergency medical technician. Toss in his academy courses in engineering and diagnostic systems and what you got was a natural choice for his half of their two man team. Kettch handled the flight control and delicate navigation, then security once they arrived. Seemed odd to think of the cuddly-looking lieutenant as a bouncer or bodyguard, but Kiel wasn't about to doubt the Kowe's capabilities there either.

As they drew closer to their destination, the lieutenant pulled the starfighter into a slow, deliberate turn around the damaged and drifting derelict that they were here to survey. The usually sleek lines of the Nova-class were marred. Her porcelain finish blackened and charred along the anterior of the engineering section. The starboard nacelle was absent entirely. Obviously, the ship had seen better days. Now, she was a relic in her own time. Battered and bruised, beaten and broken.

Leaning forward, the youth gently tapped the console in front of his seat. The garish light from the controls casting a haunting glare over the boy's face. "I'm picking up indications that life support may still be functioning," the El-Aurian ensign stated in his level, quiet voice. Kiel spoke with a strong conviction somewhere inside him. Something more than simple confidence, yet shy of being called arrogance. A quiet orchestra of electronic sounds followed the delicate dance of his fingers over the console. "Multiple hull breaches though. Several sections have collapsed from the depressurization."

"Can you clarify the life sign readings," Kettch remarked, looking at his own sensor readout for a split-second before having to return the full of his attention to avoiding the debris. The Kowe was already steering them toward the shuttlebay to the rear of the Nova. The plan was to use the command and control codes that they had downloaded from the Galaxy's computer to try and get the computer on the derelict starship to open the shuttlebay doors. Forgoing that, they would either have to scrap the mission until the Galaxy could move into transporter range of the ship or one of them - that one being the who wasn't the pilot - would be transporting over alone in order to try and open the doors. Neither were what Kiel would have called ideal solutions.

"No," the boy answered simply, shifting through various filters as he played with the sensory controls for a moment. "Some kind of ion interference I think," the youth offered as an explanation.

A low, squeaking grunt was the lieutenant's only reply, as the Kowe brought the starfighter to within only a few feet of the rear of the starship, facing the doors of the ship's shuttlebay. Below the doors, the vessel's designation of USS ARGO NCC-61058 could still be readily distinguished. "Now let's see if those codes work," Kettch muttered under his breath.

Giving a wan smile, the youth again leaned forward. "ten, twenty-four, zero-six, fourteen," Kiel stated, remarking the numerical combination aloud as he input and transmitted the data to the Argo, in hopes of initiating contact with the ship's main computer. To no avail.

"...or not," Kettch added with a sigh, his paw tapping against the flight controls in clear indication of the Kowe's own impatience and frustration with the situation they were dealing with.

"They could have changed the codes. Or the computer processors could have been damaged," Kiel offered with a slight shrug. Impatience, frustration, or otherwise wasn't going to open those shuttlebay doors. Which begged the question... do they stay or do they go?

What the hell, they'd come this far. "Set transporter coordinates for deck five, section six," Kiel stated crisply, adjusting where the med kit rested against his side as he began to release his restraints.

"You want to go in there," Kettch asked, turning his neckless, furred head to regard the young El-Aurian.

"Why not," the boy asked innocently, flashing the Kowe another enigmatic grin. "It's the astrophysics lab. That section reads largely intact on sensors," the youth pointed out, returning to the actual point at hand with a barely noticeable transition in his outward demeanor. "Then it's just a walk down the hall to shuttlebay control," he added, as though it should be so easy.

The Kowe obviously had some reservations regarding the turn of events, but he couldn't argue the necessity to explore that ship. After a minute, Kettch finally activated the transporter. In a flash of light and low hum of dispersing energy, the El-Aurian vanished from the starfighter.

The seconds ticked by, with Kettch growing more anxious as a full minute approached with no word from the ensign. "Kettch to Counselor Kiel," the lieutenant snapped, finally opening the communications channel himself. "Please respond."

Several more seconds passed.

"Ensign Kiel, respond," the Kowe demanded, a paw striking the console in front of him as he began sensor sweeps of the interior of the Argo. Deck five, section six. Right where the kid was supposed to be. Right where sensors weren't showing so much as a mouse moving inside that ship. Negative life sign readings. And no indication of the tracer inside Kiel's commbadge either.

His next call was directed at a different entity entirely.

"Vanguard Ten to Galaxy..."

Author's Notes: Although the mission to Mirusa VI ("Heretics") is officially over, this series of posts explains what happened to Cass and Tish. Also, this will set the groundwork for future relations between these two dynamic characters. My great thanks to Frank, who actually wrote T'Shani's memory part for this first part, with some small additions by me. Bravo, man. -- M.J. Miller

OOC: Takes place just after "The Deep Dark" Part 3.

"What's Beyond Reality - Beyond The Invisible" (Part I)

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer (F. Byrne)
1st Lieutenant T'Shani A'Akledorian, CO: SFMC Furies (M. Miller)

****
Close your eyes,
just feel and realize
It is real and not a dream,
I'm in you and you're in me

It is time,
to break the chains of life
If you follow you will see,
what's beyond reality
****

****

Unknown Location, Mirusa VI, The Present

Cass blinked once, to make sure that what he was feeling wasn't a passing effect of a blow to the head. When it didn't disappear, he blinked again.

Nothing.

His headache had gotten worse, feeling as though he'd been cut across the forehead and blood was trickling down. Reaching up, Cass wiped his sleeve across his brow, and found nothing but sweat. Looking at Tish, lying on the ground before him, he realized what that had to mean.

"Tish?" Cassius breathed, feeling every aspect of her senses, even though they weren't physically touching. Suddenly, he realized that he hadn't even spoken her name, but that he was still sure that she'd *heard* his thought.

"Ooouugh," Tish moaned, feeling the stinging sear of the cut across her head and the hot blood trickling down. But there was something ... *else*.

It was a like a dull throb in the back of her mind, but not one that she could just will away. As Cassius spoke her name, she could not only hear his voice with her ears, but also *hear* him in her head.

She tried to roll over onto her side, but stopped short as a sharp pain poked at her ribs, sending an nauseating wave of pain across her chest, causing her to yelp out in pain.

Cass echoed her shout as he felt a phantom of her pain in his own chest. "I think you broke a rib," he said, breathing heavily after the sudden pain. "And I think that something here has ... I don't even know how to describe it ... merged our consciousnesses?"

"Rhooz. Help me up, Cass," she whispered softly before pushing herself up again, trying to role over onto her back. Biting her lip, she stifled another moan as the sharp pain ran across her chest again.

"Hold still," he told her, using as gentle a tone as he could muster, and slipped his arms under hers, supporting her head with his palms. The entire motion was very much unnerving, feeling his own arms around her, through his own senses. Widening his stance, he quickly pulled her to her feet. "Will you be able to walk?" he asked, still supporting her as he looked around at their surroundings.

"I..." she tested her weight on one of her legs, oddly aware of Cass's arms supporting her from both her and *his* perspectives. "I think I can," she said softly, raising a palm to her bleeding forehead.

"I hope so," he replied, releasing her for the most part. She still looked shaky at best, so he moved to stand just behind her, a better position to catch her should her wobbly knees give out.

Tish steadied herself, while trying to take in the room they had been *transported* to. The room they were in was a vast, stone chamber. The sort of place that was very common among ruins on desert worlds. A torch stand had been placed in each of the four corners of the room, giving the whole place an eerie glow, illuminating the incredibly detailed bas reliefs and hieroglyphic carvings that adorned the walls.

As T'Shani's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she wondered absently who had lit the torches. Had the advanced team made it down here? Where was *here*, anyway?

And why did she literally feel beside herself, in Cassius's mind. No ... it was more like, they were sharing the thoughts and feelings between them, like two people watching the same vid.

'Where are we?' she asked in her mind. Strangely, she was able to hear her own voice echo back to her through Cass, in some strange sort of feedback loop. Vaguely, she wondered if he now was feeling what she was, and what that meant.

Did he know of her feelings for him?

"T'Shani, I've known how you feel about me for a long time, now," Cass said before he could catch himself. It was hard to hold your tongue when your thoughts were mixed with another persons. But still, T'Shani was a great many things. Good at masking her emotions wasn't on that list.

~Great,~ she shot back in her mind, through their mysterious link. ~I really don't want to talk about it, Cass,~ she thought to him as she tried to hobble toward one of the massive stone pillars that was supporting the rotunda.

~Are you sure about that?~ he prodded, starting to get the hang of speaking without *speaking*. As she moved and he didn't, he felt a brief wave of nausea at the disparity between their actions. Deciding it best to match pace, he followed her. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to talk about it, given his own blossoming relationship with Ekoma Janx ... but it was something that needed to be resolved. ~It seems like that's been eating up a lot of your attention, lately.~

Tish winced slightly, resting her back against the cool alien stone of the pillar. Part of it was from the pain from her ribs, the other the pain from her hearts at his fleeting thoughts of Janx. Only *now* could she fully understand...

"You're falling in love with her, Cassius," she spoke aloud, softly.

He nodded, hesitantly, scratching absently the stubble that was growing around his jawline. "Yeah ... I guess I am ... At least, I think I am," he said, rolling the unfamiliar thought around in his mind. ~I love Ekoma Janx...~

He'd originally approached the relationship with more practical feelings, seeing it as a sort of natural progression for two people who had a lot in common. Ekoma was somebody to share experiences with. That really hadn't changed at all. But where did that leave Tish? Or Rima?

She couldn't believe it. She wanted him to feel ... *something* for her. Not this pity that he held her with, at arms length. ~Forget it Cassius, I think we should just focus on getting the hell out of... ~

"But Tish, it's not like that," he protested as he caught up to her. He wasn't sure he could explain exactly in what way he cared about her ... but he was sure he did. He was about to try despite his confusion when a deep, authoritative voice intruded itself into their collective thoughts.

~I AM THE GUARDIAN OF THE NERRU,~ the booming, slightly sibilant voice explained, seemingly in Federation Standard and Andorian at the same time. How it was managing that, Cass wasn't sure, but if he had to wager he'd guess that whatever had linked their minds could also use their memories. ~MY BEING IS ETERNAL, SO LONG AS THOSE IN MY CARE PROGRESS. YOUR CONNECTION HAS STAGNATED. IT IS ANATHEMA TO ME TO SEE IT SO. ALL MUST CONTINUE TO GROW. PERHAPS, TO KNOW EACH OTHER, YOU MUST FIRST *BE* EACH OTHER!~

"That's ominous," Cass had just enough time to say before the world faded away in a gray mist.

****

The Forests Outside Raath Ra'Chuul, Seltax VII, 2365

T'Shani a'Akledorian continued her headlong flight through the forests of Seltax VII, unable to will herself to stop. Trampling the undergrowth, she charged up the rocky mountainside to the cliffs that she had played on as a child, overlooking her home in Raath Ra'Chuul. She remembered climbing up to the cliff side, testing her endurance on the steep climb so that she could see the incredible view of the city, but the memory was far from the front of her mind right now.

If she could reach Raath Ra'Chuul, maybe she could reunite with her clan; her bond mates. The thought of them brought tears to her eyes as she looked at her legs ... or rather what lay between. The broken and torn folds of once-innocent flesh, the deep bluish-purple blood flowing down the insides of her legs.

Growling with pain and rage, she brutally shoved the thought aside, concentrating only on escape. If she could make it home, then this ordeal would be over, right? ...Right??

**SNAP!**

The noise echoed through the wood as she caught her ankle on an exposed root, sending her flying. She impacted headfirst, rolling completely over herself to land on her back, limbs sprawling out in all directions. Her antennas were ringing.

'Rhooz,' she cursed to herself, forcing herself to roll up to a sitting position. Pain spread upward from the ankle, and she knew that it was twisted, if not fractured or broken. It hurt a lot less than she'd been expecting. Or maybe it was the fact that her entire body was exploding with pain, already.

The green-blooded bastards had known what they were doing. They'd known *exactly* what they were doing. It made her sick, and she retched into the grass, heaving up bile at the too-recent memory of their violent violation of her twelve-cycle old innocence. She dry-heaved again, but she'd long ago evacuated the rest of her stomach.

A moment later, after she crawled away from her vomitus, she used a sapling to pull herself up to a standing position. As she hobbled toward the cliff side, she concentrated on returning her breathing to normal. She knew she had overworked her body and that it wanted nothing but to shut down. Covering the ground she'd covered, after what had been *forced* upon her, in the time she'd done it was incredible. But she still felt lower and more worthless than she'd ever felt.

How could she ever face her bond mates?

Hefting the damaged leg over a low wall of rocks and branches, she finally reached her destination, the Akledor Cliffs. Below her, she could see, at last, Raath Ra'Chuul. It was breathtaking. She would always remember it how she saw it now...

Because it would never be that way again.

The light began in the center of the city, over the tall ivory spire that served as the planet's central {chuul}; the capitol building. The eerie green light started expanding outward at a radius of one klick per second. The instantaneous flash was brighter than the arc struck by a gamma welder--searing her eyes--and the high pitched noise that accompanied it blocked out any trace of other noise, including her own fearful, high-pitch screaming. It lasted for less than fifteen seconds. But for T'Shani a'Akledorian, it seemed like another lifetime.

When the light finally disappeared, Raath Ra'Chuul had been washed away. Where there had once been a thriving city, full of life, there was nothing but a blackened circle of rubble; a seared wound upon a once-vibrant planet's skin.

She took one step forward, fully intent to throw herself from the Akledor Cliffs, before her fractured ankle snapped completely, and she crumpled to the ground.

Her clan, her family, her bond mates, her young body. The Romulan's victory was complete. Burying her eyes in her blue skinned hands, she curled up into a ball and watched her life unravel. She was dead to the world.

Dead to the world...

And Cass Henderson watched the entire ordeal helplessly, from her mind.

****

Unknown Location, Mirusa VI, The Present

As soon as the vision was over, they were both released, falling onto the floor beside each other. Both of them yelling out in pain as Tish collapsed again on her broken rib.

"Cass..." she moaned softly, verbally and through the bond they shared. Truthfully she was afraid. She had never shared what had happened to her so long ago. Not even with Korman, fully. And now this man knew. He knew everything. Somehow, she wanted to protect *him* from what she had to experience.

"No," he said, equally softly. The memory had been so vivid, so overwhelming... so real. Cass pushed himself up to a kneeling position, managing by willpower alone not to vomit at the memory of the atrocity that he had just lived through. "You don't have to do that... I understand. No. Scratch that. I know."

He half-crawled over to where she was lying and moved to wrap his arms around her, wanting little more than to want to protect her from... was it memory? 'No. You can't defend against memory,' Cass thought. No, he just wanted to protect her in her moment of weakness. Period.

She wept. Openly. Tears flowing down her upturned cheek, freely, for the first time in decades. She let herself melt into him as his strong arms encircled her. As he hugged her to him as they laid there on the cold stone, her antennas brushed against his face, and she could smell *him*.

And for the first time, she knew that Cassius *did* love her. Perhaps not as she had wanted for the past four months, but as he *did*. Through the bond, he could feel the warmth of his love pull over her hurt emotions like a warm blanket curling around her, shutting out the cold chill of a dark night.

"Cassius?" she both thought and asked aloud to him as she sniffed slightly.

"T'Shani?" he replied, lifting his head from her shoulder to look down at her face.

She sat up, slowly, shakily. The phantom pain of her old wounds--inflicted upon her by the Romulans--spread across her chest and deep into her groin.

Through the bond, they *both* doubled over, clutching between their legs at the memory of what was done. How the knife had twisted deep inside her, carving her like a piece of meat.

~Now, you can understand?~ she asked, a little ashamed of how weak she had been, how she had let them do that. She winced again as the phantom pain throbbed again between her legs.

"You were twelve," he said, simply. No twelve-cycle old, skinny Andorian girl was going to be able to defend herself from that many Uhlans. "You couldn't have stopped them. And you came closer than anyone else could have."

"They... didn't... show you... everything... " she gasped out in ragged breaths as she herself fell back to the stone tiles.

"It would take a lifetime," Cass breathed, his chest rising and falling more rapidly, heart rate accelerated by the phantom pain.

~VERY PERCEPTIVE, STUDENTS,~ the thunderous voice of the Nerru Guardian interrupted their moment. ~BUT ONLY THE FIRST STEP. PROGRESS IS A PATH OF MANY STEPS. A PATH THAT RUNS BOTH WAYS. ONLY WHEN ROLES ARE REVERSED DOES PROGRESS TAKE THE SECOND STEP.~

"Here we go again..." Cass muttered before their surroundings receded into a new memory.

Tish held his hand this time, squeezing it tight and holding him close to her.

"The Bloody and Painful Demise of Eptgac the Teddy Bear"

Lieutenant JG 8-ball Hunter
Eptgac the Teddy Bear

Eptgac the teddy bear had gone through a lot of shit.

8-ball, in a strange sort of way, loved her teddy bear, even though she tortured him regularly to relieve stress or just to kill time. One might not see love in beating the shit out of something, but 8-ball really cared about the fuzzy little thing. If she hadn't, 8-ball probably would have gotten rid of him years ago. She might have kicked him around once or twice for the pure fun of it, but then he would have been jettisoned and forgotten about in a matter of minutes.

Instead, 8-ball had kept around, and showed her affection by torturing the poor teddy bear. And not only did she torture him often, maybe once or twice a day, even, but she also tortured him creatively, trying never to be repetive about the regular beatings and scaldings. She had kicked him around the quarters and shoved him in the wastebasket. She had jumped up and down on him until one of his ears was hanging slightly askew. She had burned his fur enough so that his left arm was more black ash than brown fuzz. She had even slowly eviscerated him of his cotton stuffing entrails.

Yes, Eptgac was a veteran of the teddy bear woes. But even though he was terrified of his owner/Dragon Lady, he had come to understand her as she understood him. He could tell when she was frustrated or seriously, extremely pissed off. He knew when he would be pummeled or just negligently tossed into the other room. He knew the difference between Nice-Ish 8-ball and Homicidal-Crazy-Bitch 8-ball.

So, when 8-ball entered her quarters after her first Galaxy staff meeting, Eptgac knew something was very, very wrong.

***

8-ball opened her eyes and realized that she was nude.

She blinked.

She realized that being naked was an acceptable thing because she was in her sonic shower. This was not a problem because sonic showers were good, hygenic things to do with your time. The problem was that 8-ball was naked in her shower. . .and about a half a second ago, she had been walking down the corridor from the senior staff meeting.

That was a DEFINITE lapse in time. And unfortunately, she hadn't been drinking.

8-ball turned off the sonic shower and slowly got dressed, trying to remember anything about what had happened to her. Headache/nausea on the bridge---check. Staff meeting/Evil Proctor/Leaving meeting---check. Headache suddenly worse on the turbolift---check. Walking down the corridor to go lay down in her quarters---check. Reaching her quarters----

Complete blank. It was as if it had never happened.

Except that it had. She must have reached her quarters, hoped that a shower would make her feel better, and gotten into it. That was the only logical explanation. She just didn't have any damn memory about it.

"Well, at least the headache's a little bit better," she muttered to herself. The headache WAS better, but only marginally, and 8-ball was getting pretty damn annoyed with it.

"Maybe I can interrogate Eptgac and HE can tell me what the fuck is wrong with me," 8-ball said as she stepped out of the bathroom. "God, I'm so sick of this fucking head---"

She stopped. She stared. She rubbed her eyes and then stared again.

The room was a disaster. Not like normal-I-don't-feel-like-cleaning disaster, but rather someones-been-hired-to-tear-your-room-apart-and-piss-you-off disaster. The mattress was overturned. The sheets were ripped. The lamp was knocked over. Two cups had been broken against the wall.

"Jesus fucking Christ," 8-ball whispered hoarsely, and walked over to where the shattered glass decorated the carpet. There was drops of green blood on the glass shards. 8-ball looked at her hands. Both of them were cut deeply, in the palms and on the fingertips. The blood was hers.

She had been the one to throw those cups.

"Jesus," 8-ball muttered again, staring around the room. She silently took an inventory of all the damage that had been done.The pillow was torn open. Her picture of her father was knocked over. Her teddy bear---

8-ball ran over to the other side of the bed. Eptgac the teddy bear was lying on the floor. He would have been lying face down except that he no longer had a face. Not one attached to the body, at any rate.

Eptgac's head had been torn off and mantled on the wall. One of the glass shards speared it in place through the forehead.

8-ball must have done it. But she didn't remember a thing.

"God," 8-ball whispered. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Borderline Psychosis"

Lieutenant JG "8-Ball", Chief Science Officer
Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer

Backpost: Set before "Ashes in your Mouth"

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

Ten Forward, USS Galaxy

8-ball looked around the room as she sipped her depressingly non-alcoholic drink. She had come to Ten-Forward with the need to converse or watch or at least be around other people, but Ten-Forward was quieter than was normal for a post-weird-psychotic-excursion-into-scary-alien-temple. Hell, Ten-Forward wasn't just quiet. Ten-Forward was dead. The only other person in the damn room was that guy from security who looked like he was trying to be Victor Krieghoff, hulking and brooding and dangerous. Unfortunately, he was failing miserably, and 8-ball had no desire to talk to him.

She DID have a desire to talk to her boyfriend, but alas, Himne actually had to work, and 8-ball wasn't supposed to interrupt him. She might have anyway, but they had already broken up once, and 8-ball didn't want to push things just yet. Therefore, she drank her non-alcoholic drink and moped at the counter, hoping someone interesting or cute or at least quasi-intelligent would walk in, see her in her state of despair, and come say hello.

The day for Miramon had been rather interesting as far as he was concerned. He'd sat in on a rehearsal for an orchestral performance, since he'd been quite a fan of classical music since he'd been introduced to it at the Academy, then headed onto his duty shift, then taken a shower and seen to the kitten he was currently sharing his quarters with. After about half an hour of it, the Bajoran had given up on getting the furry thing to respond, not to mention the fact that, for some reason, he'd done little but sneezed horrendously in the thing's presence, so he'd headed out to Ten Forward to grab something to eat.

Normally he'd eat with Saul on an evening, but his human friend had just been promoted so was busy with departmental stuff - apologies forwarded as appropriate. He'd picked up chicken in red pepper sauce on a bed of Italian tomato rice for dinner, since he'd always found human food to be more flavourous than many Bajoran foods (not that he'd ever openly criticise home cooking), along with a tall glass of cold Iced Jumja Tea, which he'd finally programmed into the replicator after quite some procrastination. Quite the spin - a Bajoran tea altered by application of a human technique. His parents would have killed him.

As soon as dinner was served, he looked around at the relatively empty Ten Forward for someone to talk to - at this time of the day, the place was pretty dead, which was exactly as he preferred it, since it meant he could enjoy his dinner without a torrent of noise surrounding him. Right now, there were only a few people around - one security officer, one science officer, plus the bartender, the latter of the three cleaning glasses and not precisely a guy that the Bajoran wanted to chat with while eating. The security officer looked like he was having a really bad day, and Miramon didn't have a spare phaser handy, so the science officer was his best bet.

He headed her way, trying to ascertain who it was from the other end of the room. As he got closer, he noticed exactly who it was - T'Pol Hunter, known among the crew, for some reason, as 8-Ball. He wasn't gonna question it - especially lest someone hook onto the fact that he wasn't carrying a nickname and was thereby in line to get on himself. So he'd keep his mouth shut for now. He reached her table and nodded to the chair opposite her, since his hands were full and therefore not expressive.

"Clearly nobody's sitting here, so would you mind a little company? Nobody should ever suffer having to eat dinner alone in the midst of Ten Forward, so if you wouldn't mind?"

8-ball glanced up at the man near her. Apparantly, her technique of moping to snag company had actually worked. Or the man was just bored. Either way, it didn't really matter. "Sure, go ahead," 8-ball said.

The guy sat down. 8-ball knew his name was Miramon, and she thought she'd seen him hanging around with Saul before, but otherwise, she didn't really know him all that well, and couldn't for the life of her think of what to say. She could go with the usual, "So, how long have you been on Galaxy? Do you have any children? What are your goals in life?" but all that was just boring. Or she could go with a more truthful approach to conversation: 'Hi, my name's 8-ball: I'm the new science chief, and I occasionally see dead children and talk to alien gods in temples. How are you?" but somehow she got the feeling that this wouldn't go over well.

Instead of saying either of these things, 8-ball said, "So, I heard this statistic once that every day, a person will talk to somebody who's commited a crime, and every year a person will talk to somebody who's committed a murder. I don't know if either of those stats are actually true, but it can make you kind of creeped out when you talk to people you don't know very well. I'm only bringing this up now because you seem like a nice guy, and not wannabe-homicidal-broody like that guy over there, but if you're one of those homicidal lunatics that you meet once a year, well, I'm not in the mood to be murdered, if it's all the same to you. Also, your food looks EXCELLENT: could I try a bite?"

The Bajoran chuckled and nodded in response to that last inquiry - he hadn't started on the food himself as yet, so passed her the fork he'd picked up with the meal, taking the time he had spare to spread a napkin over his lap and apply a little salt to the food once the woman had managed to snag some of the chicken. Certainly this was going to be an interesting conversation if that opening was anything to go by.

"Well, I'm not carrying a phaser, and I don't have an Anbo-Jyitsu staff handy, so you'd probably kill me quicker than I could kill you, if such was my intention. So the only way you'll die within the next twenty minutes that I can ascertain is if you happen to have an allergy to peppers or tomato." Miramon had always been less-than-complimentary regarding the quality of food that the replicators produced - hence why he'd normally cook his own food when he had chance, but with the kitten currently sharing his quarters, he wasn't sure he wanted to risk that one until she was a little calmer or at the very least less impulsive - or was it mad? Anyway, he'd forgotten to introduce himself, now he considered it (as though that wasn't a tangent from his other line of thought).

"Oh, and I'm Miramon, from CONN. You know," deciding to follow up on 8-Ball's idea of throwing in a little useless knowledge (abstract as it had been), "On many planets, sharing food is considered a way of demonstrating trust, so unless those allergies kill you within the next minute or so, we'll assume it's a good start to dinner, shall we?"

8-ball swallowed her food and sat silently for a minute. "All right," she said finally. "No spontaneous allergy attacks to pepper and chicken. I guess that means your trustworthy." She smiled at him. "Oh, and I'm 8-ball. I guess I didn't say that, either. I probably assumed you already knew who I was. Does that make me sound conceited?" Before Miramon could reply, 8-ball shrugged in answer to her own question. "I guess I am a little conceited. It doesn't really matter. I don't think I'm Queen of the World, or anything, so I'm not scary-conceited, and besides, there are worse personality traits. Like being unimaginative. Or being a necrophiliac. There are some cultures, very few and far between mind you, but there are some cultures that are okay with necrophilia, and that's cool for them but I just never could get down with that. Spooks me out a bit."

8-ball smiled again. "Probably not good dinner talk, huh? Sorry, I've always made either lousy or really weird conversation. We can change the subject, if you want, although feel free to talk about necrophilia if it floats your boat. Or we can talk about you. I don't know much about you. Tell me about your life, Miramon, and what's new and exciting in it. And if you're a necrophiliac, don't tell me. Cause I'm enjoying your company, and that might sort of spoil things."

The Bajoran chuckled in amusement - how it was they'd ended up here he wasn't quite sure, but it certainly wasn't HIS fault. Still, it wouldn't be tactful to say as much to 8-Ball, so he let it drop. He took a sip from the Iced Tea, enjoying the familiar flavour of Jumja tea mixed with the slight bitterness that always resulted from icing it like this. He'd have to add more sugar next time.

"Yeah, I know who you are, Ms Hunter. I don't think there are many aboard who don't. But on that one, I shall say no more. And before we go there, I am not a necrophiliac - on Bajor such a thing would be considered a major breach of our faith's basic tenets, since we respect life and thus, death plays an important part of our society. I suppose you've heard of the Death Chant?"

"Ummm. . ."

"Well, anyway," the Bajoran continued, barely skipping a beat in allowing 8-Ball to reply to his question, "my life is relatively boring. How does it go? I was born, brought up during the Occupation, skipped planet when I could, then joined Starfleet a few years after the Occupation ended. A story you'll probably hear from a lot of Bajorans, no doubt - those of us that have become officers or even NCOs tended to do so in order to get away from the fun of trying to rebuild a planet that now seems to be handling itself well enough."

"Hey, running away is a perfectly viable option," 8-ball said lightly. "I've done it myself from time to time. . .for instance, when I was living on Vulcan. Had to get out of there fast---I mean, living there probably wasn't anywhere near as awful as living through the Occupation, but it's fun-ness level is right up there with raw targ and bridge duty. So I'm cool with running away." 8-ball frowned as she studied Miramon's face. . .he wasn't one of those guys that you could easily read, very much unlike her. "But let me ask you something: you basically signed up with Starfleet to get away from the Occupation, right? Well, now that you're here and not rebuilding anything, I'm just curious: do you really LIKE it here? I mean, being a Starfleet officer, exploration and peace talks and the whole nine Federation yards. Do you believe in what you're doing, or is it just something to do?"

Miramon shook his head quickly, then took a quite bite of the chicken, enjoying the crisp flavour. 8-Ball had missed what he'd said, clearly.

"I didn't run away from Bajor. I joined Starfleet once the Occupation of my homeworld ended. Basically I spent most of the Occupation transporting cargo freight from Bajor, which kept us well away from the Cardassians for the most part. When they withdrew, we returned to Bajor to help with the slow rebuilding process, but eventually I decided I wanted to do something more than run freight for the rest of my life. Starfleet was the best option for me."

The Bajoran paused, remembering how horrified his parents had been when he'd announced his intentions to leave Bajor and go to the Academy - sure, he'd been well into his 20s by then, and was one of the older entrants at the Academy (although nowhere near the Vulcans), so it had been his decision, and his family had been forced to live with it.

"But yeah, I do enjoy living like this. Absolutely. The Academy wasn't easy, I'll grant you, but when you've spent over 5 years running trade lanes under the possibility that the Cardassians might take exception to the odd bit of assistance we gave to the Resistance - smuggling people out, bringing in a few things that they could use, and so Starfleet has always seemed to be a bit more pleasant than anything we did during the Occupation. A picnic in comparison, actually."

~Damn~ 8-ball thought, but didn't say anything out loud. Sometimes she got the feeling that she was the only one not planning on a life in Starfleet. But she supposed she could understand Miramon's reasoning. Give you a choice between living on a nice little spot on Risa or the seventh layer of Hell. . .well, that wasn't as much of a choice as just a really big duh.

"It's not that I think Starfleet's hard," 8-ball said, not wanting to come off as completely lazy and useless. Well, she could be lazy, but she liked Miramon well enough so far, and she was sure she was probably coming off like a thoughtless, airheaded child. . .which she didn't think was completely the truth. "It just seems that every time I turn around, someone's talking about how much they believe in the Federation and what good they're doing here on the Galaxy, and a sense of purpose and blah blah blah, and I guess I don't really get that. I mean, I wouldn't entirely object to a sense of purpose, but I haven't found it in Starfleet, or on this ship, or in my life. I don't know. I kinna just got promoted, which was mostly a big cosmic, joke, and I guess I don't know if I feel I deserve it."

She thought about that for a minute and then realized something. "You just got promoted, didn't you? I thought I heard something like that in the corridor." When the Bajoran nodded in the affirmative, 8-ball smiled. "Well, congrats." And then, with a wry smile, "I hope you like it."

He smiled his thanks, but didn't say anything, instead wanting to return to her earlier assertions. "You know, it seems to me like you're ascribing more than is there to some of the officers aboard. Sure, people are always glad to contribute something, which is a good reason for being in Starfleet, but there are areas where people could make a greater contribution - establishing new colonies on distant worlds, providing medical assistance and aid to those that need it, helping out refugees like some did for us during the Occupation. But being in Starfleet isn't about doing something special - it's about following your own dreams and sharing them with others that feel the same way. We're out here to explore, to protect the things that we value in our world, to discover things about ourselves and the universe at large. We work hard not because we feel originally that we are doing something to help others - certainly spending 4 years at the Academy doesn't help anybody but ourselves, in the long run. So we serve, but that's not the only good thing about what we do here."

8-ball thought about that. She hadn't really considered it quite that way before. She wasn't sure if it changed her mind about anything, but it was nice to have the idea that maybe some of the other officers on this boat also had something in the way of personality, not just duty, honor, and service. It was sort of a refreshing idea, actually.

"Yeah, I guess," 8-ball said, shrugging, and then took a sip of her drink. She realized. . .again. . .that she was running out of things to talk about. Was she losing her touch? Was she no longer interesting? Was she getting. . .old?

8-ball decided against running to the next room with a mirror to search for wrinkles and gray hair. Maybe she and the older Bajoran just didn't have a lot in common. He seemed nice, mild-mannered. . .no, they obviously didn't have in the way of similar qualities. Still, 8-ball was determined to find something that they both liked, and something that didn't have anything to do with random death statistics and necrophilia.

She gave up in a matter of seconds and was just about to ask what he liked doing on his off-time (for lack of anything better to ask) when she noticed some stray hairs on his uniform, hairs that obviously weren't his. "Do you have a pet?" she asked. When he looked surprised, she pointed out the hair. "Cat, dog, or really fuzzy iguana?"

"Yes, I have a little kitten right now, but for some reason, everytime I walk into the room with it there, I start sneezing. It's really beginning to get on my nerves, but I don't think I'm developing a cold of any sort." The Bajoran shrugged. Things like that had a habit of happening when you least expected it. "How about you, Ms Hunter?"

"Nah, the closest thing I have to a pet is my stuffed teddy bear, Eptgac. He's fun and all, but not much in the way of, you know, conscious thought. I'd like to get a cat or something. That would be really neat. What's your cat's name? Can I see it?" The question came out of 8-ball's mouth before she even had time to think about it. Sometimes, inviting yourself over to a relative stranger's quarters did not go well.

Miramon raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged and nodded back to the woman. "Sure, I guess you could take a look. She's called Ziggy - a little ginger female, although she's borderline psychotic, I think, and constantly switched between being nuts and shy. Typical kitten, according to the guy I got her from. Just drop in later, when you've got a free minute."

The Bajoran was somewhat amused by the request, but he supposed it couldn't particularly hurt - besides, it was hardly an offensive thing to ask. Okay, it was a bit forward, but then, he was used to people that approached life like that - after all, people that worked on freight ships usually tended to be just that blunt about life. Besides, he never objected to visitors, unless he was sleeping or in the middle of a lot of work.

"So," he said, changing the subject, "tell me of yourself, Ms Hunter. Obviously I've heard of you from various people and places, but as you can imagine, other people's perceptions can often be wildly off, so I'd rather find out from the source, so to speak."

"Neat!" 8-ball said. She was about to mention that borderline psychotics were the best cats and a tame, normal cat was just boring when she realized that she was late. "Oh crap. I think I was supposed to meet Ella about five minutes ago. Sorry to run away, but I've got to run away. It was nice officially meeting you, though. Don't forget I'm going to drop by sometime. I need a cat to play with."

The Bajoran raised an eyebrow and nodded, his features breaking out into a warm smile. "Alright, off you go, Ms Hunter. No doubt I'll see you some other time. Enjoy your meeting."

OOC: Took place while the Galaxy was at Mirusa VI

"Meetings"

Ensign Kio, Doctor, Medical
Lieutenant (jg) Dhanishta Eshe, Engineer
Michael McDowell, civilian

*** Open space, USS Basilisk, en route the Mirusa system ***

The ship flew with a speed at warp 5. Its journey had taken it past New Germany and Corvallis and now it was almost at the end of its voyage. The USS Basilisk had been dispatched from Starbase 212 together with the USS Pompeii to relieve the USS Galaxy at Mirusa VI. The Pompeii followed the Basilisk closely.

Along with the rest of the crew and mission specialists on the Basilisk there were a few passengers. It was not so much the Mirusa system that interested them, safe because of what had happened there only a short time ago, but the USS Galaxy itself.

*** Some Guest quarters on Deck 3 ***

Michael stood, scratching his cheek, in front of the mirror. He kept scratching until the spot had turned red. "Am I allergic to something here?" He wondered out loud. "It keeps itching all the time, right here. It's driving me mad!" He showed Dhani the place where it itched.

"You could be allergic to scratching!" she mused. Although she soon realized that, that wasn't the helpful response he was looking for. His eyes said it all, they always did.

A playful smile danced on her lips and she smirked at his displeasure of her mocking. Standing up she rewrapped her dressing gown around her, why was it these things always spilled open? And walked over to where Michael was standing by the mirror.

"Hold still and let me have a look." She told him as she approached. Batting his hands away from the mark on his cheek that was turning redder by the second she peered at his skin. There were slight abbreviations caused by his incessant scratching, but other than that there was nothing that she could pin point, no bit marks no spots or raised lumps.

"Humm." She hummed thoughtfully, "I can't see anything specifically wrong." she batted his hand again, "Stop that you'll only make it worse." She scolded.

"But hold a sec and I'll get something from the medical kit." Disappearing off into her room for a moment she soon re-emerged with a dermal regenerator. "Stand still and let me sort out the little cuts and then take this and it should stop the irritation." She told him handing him a hypo of antihistamines. After a few minutes she was done and Michael's face was once more smooth and flawless. She smiled slightly at him as she put the things away. She pondered for a second of how close they had become after the last few months. A year ago she would have never stood before him with only a dressing gown on! But after everything they had done for each other and everything they had been through, she felt so comfortable and safe around him. Nothing seemed to faze her anymore. And it was nice to feel this way. She was finally herself again. Well not quite, she wasn't the complete logical 'Vulcanized' woman she had been at the academy; she wasn't the fiery hothead or the emotional mess that she had been on the Galaxy.

She was something new and different altogether and she wasn't really sure what that was. But at least she felt comfortable and not at war with herself and everyone around her.

She sat abruptly on the table and put her feet up on the chair, "What do you want to do this evening?" she asked suddenly. They had been on this ship for a day and already exhausted its entertainment facilities! And as they drew closer to the Galaxy Dhani was getting restless. She was nervous, slightly excited and terrified of going back. She needed to keep her mind off it.

Michael touched his skin where Dhani had used the dermal regenerator. It was as good as new, except it still itched a bit. "This evening? Let me think. We had our tour of the ship, had some fun on the Holodeck, and slept in today." He turned around and smiled, thinking about the many dinners they had in the past while they served together on the Galaxy. "How about having an exclusive dinner at Ten Forward?"

Dhani returned his smile and upgraded it to a grin! Nodding she jumped off the table, "I'll just get dressed!"

*** Ensign Kio's temporary quarters ***

It took three solar hours before she had felt ready to face the 10 forward of the Basilisk. She spent these in meditation, calming her mind and body and letting go of all conjecture over her appointment to the Galaxy, now so imminent. Failure was not an option in Kio's life and at the academy she had discovered there were many ways to fail when dealing with peoples who reveled in emotion rather than the simple and infallible path of logic.

She left her temporary quarters and made her way to 10 forward, head held high and refusing eye contact with others despite their friendly nods. Once there, she was pleased to find her timing had been impeccable, there were few crew members off duty and the gentle hum of voices did little to offend her sensitive ears. Retrieving a cup of steaming green tea (there were some things for which she was thankful from her Earth bound years) she made her way to a table by a large window and next to the moving star-scape. She allowed her mind to wander into the void beyond, as was her wont.

It didn't take long for her peace to be interrupted. A long limbed blond human woman stood over her, a steaming bowl of something cradled in her hands against her chest in a manner which seemed defensive despite the broad smile on her freckled face. She was from engineering, an ensign but Kio had not heard her name spoken. "I thought you might like some company?" She said to explain her presence and Kio heard the nervous edge in her voice.

Time and time again she had met with this human need to include and provide friendship and almost on every occasion she had managed to not give the appropriate response. Long ago at the academy she had ceased to try and be other than who she was and the years had been lonely, but she had been content. "You were mistaken, I was not seeking companionship."

"Why come to 10 forward then?" The question was fired back at her at once, the woman not reacting to the apparent rudeness. Perhaps she had dealt with Vulcan's before?

"You implied that I was looking for company and this was not the case. If you wish to join me however you are welcome to take a seat." After a moment's hesitation the ensign took a seat, continuing to smile, and holding out her hand introduced her-self: "Ensign Merragin." she said.

Kio did not hold out her hand but instead inclined her head. "Kio." Came the curt reply.

"I couldn't help approaching you, we don't see a large number of full blooded Vulcan's on this ship and I have to admit you are all a passion of mine. You see." she leant forward and lowered her voice and manner to that of a fellow conspirator, "I like to follow the ancient teachings, I meditate three times a day and I think I am beginning to feel something!"

By the Gods, Kio regretted her hospitality as these words gushed forth. This woman suffered from the condition crudely referred to amongst humans as, what was the term that involved the passing of waste from the system? Ah yes..verbal diarrhea. An unpleasant analogy. "If you begin to feel something you are perhaps having an emotional response which is not the desired outcome of meditation." She replied and then she sipped her tea and looked back out of the window.

"Yes, well....that is the point really, I mean I need guidance. I was SO excited to see you here because you may be just the person I've been looking for, we could be meditation buddies!"

As these dread words fell upon her Kio observed the entrance of two people into the room, a human man and a woman with the spots of a Trill running down her face and neck. As her gaze took the woman in Kio experienced a spark of recognition and turned back to her aspiring "meditation buddy". "I regret that a former acquaintance has arrived and we must curtail this conversation. I leave this ship soon as I am bound for the USS Galaxy. You will have to search for a meditation partner elsewhere." Her voice was it's usual toneless self, and her face betrayed none of her distaste at such an awful suggestion.

Merrigan's face fell in disappointment and her reply trailed off as Kio took to her feet and approached the two new arrivals.

Dhanis' arm was linked with Michaels as they entered Ten forward, and they were both laughing, slightly hysterically. Dhani rubbed her ribs with her free hand and leaned on Michael, pausing to wipe a tear from her eye.

"And when I called you 'Dog Boy' I swear that you were going to kill me!" she said cracking up even more. They had been reminiscing about their recent undercover mission, glad that now they could joke about it in parts.

Michael laughed out loud. "Well, to be honest, for a few moments I felt the urge to kick your ass. Must've been my Klingon gene speaking up." He continued in a more serious manner, though still smiling. "But I must say, it was one hell of an experience."

"Yeah," Dhani nodded, "I miss my fangs!" she interjected randomly mock pouting.

"Now that you mention it, they suited you well." Michael chuckled.

Dhani didn't notice the Vulcan woman as she made a B-line for them. She continued walking with Michael to a table, until she almost bumped straight into the woman, "I'm sorry." Dhani said stepping aside, out of the Vulcan's way.

She looked up at the Vulcan woman and flashed her a polite smile and then turned back to face Michael.

Kio, understanding that she had not been recognized spoke a short greeting to Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe in her native Vulcan. She saw that the man accompanying her heard his companions name in the sentence and he made a slight adjustment in his stance as if meaning to stand between them.

A change came over Dhani, her face losing the glow of good humor and her stance almost becoming military as she turned to face Kio. Placing a hand on Michaels shoulder she moved past him and peered up into Kio's face as if searching for something. "I regret that I do not know your name." Dhani said, her tone cool. It was obvious from the way the Vulcan greeted Dhani that she knew her, but Dhani really couldn't place that face. She stared slightly and then looked away not wanting to appear rude.

Michael tried hard to follow the conversation which, until now, was all done in Vulcan. However, he could only translate about 90 per cent of it. The rest was half gibberish to him. He should've practiced more on the Vulcan language.

Kio could not pretend to be surprised; it had been many years since Dhani would have seen her face and spoken to her. Dhani had just been a child after all and Kio had been three years her senior. She paused a moment, assessing the correct reply as she would not perhaps have done for anyone else in ten forward that day.

"Ensign Kio, I attended the master before you on Vulcan and we shared a year under his guidance. You would have been a child of ten I believe. It is gratifying to see you here and having used your education wisely."

Dhani frowned slightly, how had she used her education wisely? She pondered. Pushing the thought aside she nodded, "You are talking about Sark?" she questioned in Vulcan. She was completely fluent in the language, comes from growing up there and being trained by Sark!

"You are correct. Sark instructed me for three years before you became his student and I left a year later. He was a highly honored teacher amongst my people and I remember those years most keenly."

"I haven't spoken to him in a long time." Dhani said. "About nine months." she looked at Michael for validation. She wasn't completely sure when she had fallen into a coma, or rather how long she had been in a coma for. It wasn't something she liked to think about. It was incredibly strange to have missed so much time, to not know what had transpired while she had been a vegetable on Trill.

"Yes, nine months was think me." Michael said. He hoped he was making any sense. There was a good chance he just screwed up.

Kio glanced at the man who was trying to speak Vulcan with an appalling accent, perhaps another human searching to become enlightened? She did not look at him again as she asked: "It is fortuitous meeting you Dhanishta; we have much to speak of. Perhaps we could leave this human male and continue this conversation in private?" She paused a moment, searching for something a human would consider polite. "I do not believe it would be productive or kind to attempt to include him in this discussion as his understanding is poor."

~That does it! Am I nothing more than air to her?~ Michael couldn't hide his annoyance any longer. Of course he knew how cool Vulcan's usually are, but her attitude was the extreme form of it. "Ah yes, I get the picture. Two is company, three is a crowd, right?" he snapped back. He was about to walk away, but it took only a slight touch on his arm from Dhani to prevent that.

Dhani shook her head, "I apologize," Dhani said realizing how rude she had been by not doing this sooner, "this is Michael McDowell." Dhani introduced her best friend. "We are currently on our way to rejoin the USS Galaxy."

"This is also my destination where I will join the medical team. I am...glad," (she had some trouble with this word) "that you and I will be serving on the same starship. There is much I would tell you of Sark before he joined the Heavens."

"Heavens." Dhani repeated this word. She didn't have to ask twice what she meant by this. It wasn't a surprise, he was extremely old. But the news was still a shock. She did not wish to cry in front of this woman. Swallowing hard she nodded, "Oh." Was the only sound that escaped her lips as she sat down on a nearby chair.

"Sark spoke highly of you; there can be no greater honor. I am sorry you had not heard of his death."

Dhani looked up and nodded. "Thank you." She said sighing deeply. She wasn't going to dwell on this topic. She would take it in her stride, and probably cry about it later, maybe.

"Myself and Michael were going to have dinner. Would you care to join us?" Dhani said in federation standard. She wasn't sure if Michael had understood what Kio had said before, but she wasn't about to ditch her friend for someone she didn't even recognize. So she turned the conversation to suite him. Seeing as they all spoke Federation standard it seemed the easiest thing to do. She would play 'catch up' later with Kio.

Kio nodded her ascent to this suggestion and followed in their wake as they made their way to a table. She allowed her eye to meet that of Michael McDowell, there was no harm in showing him how unwelcome his company was to her at that particular juncture. Being able to speak to Dhani in the mother-tongue was an unexpected pleasure and it was this human's presence that would curtail it. Still, there would be plenty of time to speak to Dhani on the Galaxy.

Dhani took Michaels hand and squeezed it slightly, ~ "Well she might prefer Vulcan to federation standard, but hey I can talk to you telepathically, and she can't hear a word!" ~ she flashed him a grin as they sat down.

Michael mouth curled into a smile. Dhani had a point there. It got more and more routine that they talked to each other telepathically. Complete conversations even. However, Michael still found it confusing when he heard Dhani talking even when she was not there. Like that morning when she was taking a shower and he was in the living room.

Signaling for the waiter Dhani ordered a round of drinks for the group and wracked her brain wondering how on earth they were going to have a pleasant conversation with an anile retentive Vulcan!

As Michael bent forward to pour a glass of the Yellow Cardasian wine for Kio she held up her hand and said, "Vulcan's do not drink alcohol." In a tone that whilst seemingly expressionless still managed to be highly offensive.

*** Six hours later ***

The journey of the USS Basilisk and USS Pompeii drew to and end as the ships entered the Mirusa system. It wouldn't be long now before they would enter into orbit with Mirusa VI and rendezvous with the USS Galaxy.

Kio, Dhani, and Michael already had left for their quarters some time ago to in order to get their belongings together on time. All three of them stood at the brink of a whole new start.

"Exploring the Ashes, part 3" or "Ghost Ship"

Ensign Kiel Counselor, USS Galaxy

Location: USS Argo, adrift in the debris field
Soundtrack: The Journey by Steven Curtis Chapman

* * * * * * *

The sensors had a curious definition of life sustainable atmosphere. Smoke hung thick in the stagnant air, smothering the young El-Aurian as he brought a hand up to cover his nose and mouth, struggling to breathe against the caustic chemicals that burned his lungs with every draw of breath. Tears welled up in the boy's hazel eyes, blurring his vision as the counselor fought to get his bearings in the derelict Starfleet vessel. This wasn't his first time touring a Nova, but he'd certainly never seen one in this kind of condition. Nor had he anticipated the section that he'd beamed into being in this level of disrepair.

Conduits hung broken from the ceiling, one pouring some kind of toxic gas into the ruins of an astrometics lab. Probably plasma from a ruptured EPS tap. Definately not conducive to good health. Feeling his way out from the center of the oval-shaped enclave, the youth moved along the walls until he found the exit to the lab. As his hand brushed over the door controls, a sound was elicited that was definitely a rejection on the part of the computer. What ever portion of that might still have been functional. Lights and consoles were flickering off and on in the haze. A fair indication that the emergency batteries were hanging in there.

Leaning closer in to the bulkhead in order to better peer at the controls through the dense fog, the boy began to pry at the edges of the panel until he'd pulled it away from it's recessed housing in the wall. Exposing the wiring and isolinear relays underneath. The latter of which was noticeably fried. No wonder the door control hadn't responded, Kiel noted, as his slender fingers began to pull and press the collection of wires. If he remembered what a Ferengi had once taught him, then all this situation required was sending a short back to the locking mechanism.

Unfortunately, engineering wasn't exactly Kiel's strong point. Hence why he didn't wear a mustard yellow shirt. Just as well, too. He preferred people over machines. Less predictable and definitely more personality. That being said, it would be helpful now if he had more of an idea just what he was doing. Not that Kiel ever did. Making it up as you went along was half the fun in life. On occasion it even paid off, as a sudden spark and burst of bluish smoke heralded the doors to the science lab opening with a whoosh.

The slim El-Aurian was propelling himself out into the waiting hallway only a half-second later, collapsing against the wall as he doubled over in coughing fits. Sinking down to the deck, his chest heaving for anything that might so much as resemble air, the counselor had to pause there on the floor for a minute to catch his breath and collect himself. He'd joined Starfleet for the adventure, but beaming into a toxic nebula housed in the science lab of a smashed Nova-class starship wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

Gathering his feet underneath him, the youth pressed against the wall as he stood on shaking legs. Taking a half-step forward as his dark eyes flicked up to take in the condition of the corridor. The section ahead was darkened, with the lights overhead in the part he stood in fickle at best. It seemed whatever power the ship had left in her was failing. They were going to have to make some repairs if they were going to work at recovering the memory cores. Best to let Kettch know what they were in for.

Damn, the youth thought, realizing that in his haste to depart the astrometrics lab, he hadn't even signaled the flight officer to let him know that he had arrived safely. More or less anyway. He was still alive and breathing. It counted for something. "Kiel to Lieutenant Kettch," the youth stated simply, tapping the silver and gold insignia on his chest. A second ticked by without answer. "Lieutenant Kettch, respond please."

Still nothing. Odd. The starfighter was certainly in working range of the communicator. It was just outside the ship. Feeling a sliver of panic creeping through him in a cold sweat, the youth's hand again brushed over the parabolic device. "Kiel to starship Galaxy. Galaxy, respond please."

It was a long shot, given the distance from the Argo to the Galaxy. Not to mention the various rings of junk and debris between them. Some alloys of which were sure to bend or distort the communications frequency, so it was without surprise when the ship didn't respond to his signal either.

So it seemed that, from here on in, he was on his own. Alone. On a derelict starship adrift in an interstellar graveyard. When the Starfleet recruiter had said something about 'accelerating his life', this hadn't exactly been what Kiel had been envisioning. When they wrapped up this mission, he was definitely going to have to count up his vacation days and look into taking some leave on Risa. With that thought in mind, the wiry youth lifted his sunglasses up, propping them on the top of his head as he began moving down the hallway.

As he moved, the ship could be heard to creak and shudder, listing and rolling under his feet. It certainly kept him off balance, almost as it the vessel was bucking at the interloper. The effect was certainly not lost on him. The haunting lighting, dangling hoses and wires from collapsed ceilings, and the eerie sounds the ship was producing had raised the goosebumps. If the hair gel he used hadn't done so already, then his hair would have been standing on end. As it was, there was a certain feeling tickling the nape of his neck. It wasn't something he took as a good sign.

Stumbling across a maintenance alcove, Kiel was at least able to at last arm himself with a flashlight, directing the beam down the hallway as he continued the long walk down the corridor toward shuttlebay control, in the hopes that Kettch was still there waiting for the doors to open. Knowing the pride that the Kowe took in his work, Kiel was certain that Vanguard Ten was still outside. Unless it had been ordered away by the Galaxy.

He hadn't gone more than about two meters into the dark when he the light of his torch glazed over a cylindrical object jutting out across the deck of the corridor. It was only a moment before the El-Aurian realized that it was a leg belonging to a body in the hall. Stooping down beside the prone figure of a human woman dressed in flight control red, the youth plucked the medical tricorder up from where it had been situated at his hip, the device trilling softly as he trailed it over her. She was dead. Rigor mortis had already set in. Though, Kiel couldn't understand why she was dead. That would be a question for the professionals when they got her to a morgue. No sign of any serious trauma to her body, though.

As another, eerie shudder coursed through the ship, the young counselor raised his head to peer about his surroundings. A second wave of that deja vu, neck tingling sensation had struck him with an overbearing sense that something wicked was this way coming. And with all respect to Ray Bradbury, Kiel would just as soon not be there when it arrived. Peering down to a corridor junction only two meters away, the youth could make out a shadow cast along the wall by the fluctuating lights in the hall. It had a roughly humanoid shape. Another body most likely.

That was, until it moved. The dead tended not to do that. Jumping to his feet, Kiel shot upward in surprise. He got at least a meter's worth of air time, and probably a half century off his lifespan. As soon as it registered that the shadow was moving -away- from him, though, the boy found himself running down the dimly lit passages. Winding in and around blind corners, trying to track where the shadow had moved.

"Hello," he called out quietly. "I'm not here to harm you," he added, projecting his voice more as he paused in the center of a four-way intersection. Flashing his light ahead and then down the left side of the corridors, the boy paused to catch his breath, head turning as he contemplated where the shadow had gone. Then realizing that he had gotten turned around so that he wasn't sure how to get back to the body that he'd left behind in the hall.

This outing had definitely taken a turn for the creepy.

If he'd had any doubts as to whether or not the shadow had been just a figment of his ample imagination, then those were dispelled when he glanced back at his tricorder readout. [1 LIFEFORM DETECTED.] Outstanding. So they had at least one survivor after all. Only problem, that survivor was running from his rescuers. That tended to make the rescuing a little more difficult than it often needed to be. Tucking the tricorder away, the youth drew in a slow breath when a metallic click echoed off to his right.

Raising his light up, Kiel spun sharply to try and catch a glimpse of the dark blur he could make out moving in the shadows, when instead a flash of red light lanced out toward him. The El-Aurian youth had been shot -at- several times, both in his Academy training and before actually, but he'd never -been- shot before. There was a clear distinction there. And apparently a first for everything.

The phaser beam struck him in the right side of his chest, picking him up off his feet as it threw him back. It would have been nice if there had been a wall there to break his fall. Unfortunately, as he'd been standing in the center of that four-way junction, he simply went sailing back through the air into that opposing hallway. He was barely aware of the flashlight slipping from his hold before he came crashing down on the deck. An explosion of stars swirled around in the deepening darkness as everything faded to black.

* * * * * * *

Meanwhile...

In the cold vacuum surround the drifting Argo, the massive doors to the shuttlebay, which had remained impassively still since the arrival of the small starfighter craft, at last gave a shudder. Slowly, they began to retract back. Revealing the damaged flight deck and beckoning the starfighter to enter.

“What you are” pt1

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile.

Recon Specialist

Furies Detachment

Undisclosed location

Omaru ran for his lowly merc life. There was no other way to put it. He was running his ass off. In fact, running was what he had been doing for the last three hours - only now he was doing it on his own. Had Omaru been more inclined to see the situation with some humor he would have enjoyed the exericse. God knew he needed exercise. Being stuck on a mudhole of a planet to provide the employer with information had taken its toll on his stamina. Too much moonshine could do that. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Moonshine was the only thing fun on the whole damn planet.

When arriving Omaru had silently wondered, and he figured all of the other mercs had had the same line of thought as well, what possessed people to build colonies on a planet where there was nothing but very mad animals and very mad plants trying to eat you. Was it some sort of cosmic humor he failed to grasp? The tracker they had hired through a contact on DS9 had been killed by a huge plant, that according to the natives could actually move! If that wasn't irony then Omaru didn't know what was. The tracker had claimed to be able to put down any beast in the galaxy and he got killed by a Daisy on steroids.

Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to scout the surroudings at least once. Too bad he hadn't done it. All he knew was that if a plant was big as a man it had big teeth. If it was small, like a cat, it had small teeth. Of course the small teeth had to be poisonous. Of course. Cosmic humor.

But avoiding the plants was the easy part. As if pissed off meateating poisonous Daisies weren't enough, he also had to look out for the animals. The worst being a catlike creature, about a foot in height. The locals called it 'Teeth on legs'. Funny name. Until you saw one. Nature did have a sense of humor. The cats, or what the hell they were, had more teeth than a shark. Problem was that all those teeth didn't exactly fit into the mouth so the cute, if a carnivourus motormouth like that could be labeled cute, kitty ran around with a constant toothache. No wonder it attacked everything in a ten mile radius.

The problems started five days ago, or so Omaru believed. It wasn't as if he was really trying to remember what happened. He was too busy dodging flowers and kittens to put any effort into recalling what happened. All he knew was that he was the only one left out of a twenty man crew and five men had all but obliverated them.

Kittens and honeyflowers weren't what Omaru was running from. Those things was the least of his problems. Omaru tried to run away from one of the men that had attacked them. A true demon if Omaru had anything to say about it. Ten minutes ago Omaru had been hightailing it with two others, armed to the teeth and fairly confident. Five seconds of combat had changed that. The man had appeared from virtually no where, driving a knife into the throat of the pointman, and before anyone could react the man standing next to Omaru had gotten his head blown off. Very messy.

The merc had a few years under his belt. He was no greenhorn. He had waded through bodies, seen the worst that war could throw at him and lived through it. But there was something about the man that had made Omaru hesitate. A look in his eyes. That man was more of a killer than those damn cats would ever be. Omaru wouldn't be surprised if all the predators on the godforsaken planet walked in circles around him. Takes an animal to know an animal.

A second later everything went black.

When Omaru came to again, the man had been sitting next to him, apparently sleeping. The merc had decided to stay very still, not believing for a second the man was really sleeping. Without opening his eyes the man had told Omaru that if he could make it to a point two kilometers out into the jungle, then Omaru was a free man.

Not wanting to press his luck Omaru had scrambled to his feet and ran like his ass had been on fire. Omaru wasn't the sort of man that needed to be asked twice.

Omaru virtually ran out of luck with two hundred meters to go. He never saw the fist coming, knocking him flat on his back. Omaru felt his nose break and the blood started flowing. Blinking wildly Omaru tried to wipe the tears away from his eyes, but despite the sudden handicap he could see five figures suddenly emerging from the bushes.

One of them, a human in what must have been his mid-forties, the greasepaint made it difficult to determine his age - not that Omaru cared much about it at the moment, walked up to him and placed his foot on Omaru's chest. "Not bad Flea.. I didn't think you'd find him until another hundred meters. Now find out what he knows."

Slayne, the sniper, slung the rifle to his back. Slowly he pulled his sidearm and tossed it to Baile. "Blow 'is balls off... "

Next to him Hendricks lit a cigarette and looked at Omaru with nothing but contempt in his eyes. "No Flea.. cut them off.." Hendricks knife buried itself in the ground only a few inches from Omaru's most private parts.

The gargantuan Papa Beauchamps took the retractable stick from the side of his holster and pressed a button, extending it to its full length at nearly three feet. In the hands of a real expert the weapon would crack the head on a Borg. In Papa's hands it would crack open a safe. The small staff looked like a toothpick in Papa's hands. "Bust his head wide open." his deep voice rumbled.

The Colonel just watched, interested in what his adept would do. "So what's it gonna be, Flea.. cut him open? Blow his brains out? Crack his head open or just bet him to death?"

Baile did neither. He tossed the gun back to Slayne, kneeled down and pulled up the knife from the ground. Weighing it in his hand he looked at Hendricks, shrugging his shoulders. A second later he spun around and buried the knife in Omaru's chest all the way to the hilt. Omaru tried to scream, but Baile pressed down on the knife as if trying to push it through the ribcage. His teeth were barred in a soundless growl. He pushed harder and harder until the blood made the knife slippery. Suddenly he threw his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Caileb just nodded. "Feels good, doesn't it.. the thrill of the hunt.. laying down the prey.. and finally the kill.. " Caileb crouched down next to the dead merc, touching the red blood with the tip of his fingers and smelled it. "You have it in you, Flea.. you're a natural killer.. "

The others, Hendricks, Slayne and Papa just nodded. "Yes.. you have it in you.. a natural killer.."

Suddenly a voice he recognised said the same words. "Yes.. you have it in you.. a natural killer.."

“What you are”

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile.

Recon Specialist

Furies Detachment

It was his own. He looked down and froze. He knew that face with blood running from the mouth. It was his own.

"Here's to what's to come.. " he heard his own voice say. Something deep inside of him screamed at him to stand up, to get away from it all. "Go ahead.. finish it.. FINISH THE JOB!!" he heard himself scream, blood mixing with saliva. He saw his own hand shoot out and grab him by the throat. Instincts took over before he had a chance to react. He grabbed the thumb and bent it backwards until it snapped. Baile felt a grim satisfaction seeing his double bare teeth from the pain.

"That's it, Flea.. hurt him, make him pay for everything he's done.." Caileb crouched down next to him, patting him on the shoulder, much like one would pat a dog.

Baile got to his feet, his mind barely being able to process what was happening. He stumbled backwards. "He's unarmed.. I'm not killing him.. this isn't happening.. "

Caileb lit a cigar while looking at Baile. "Unarmed? That never stopped you before.. usb't that so, Dana?"

A voice Bale hadn't heard in five years. It cut through the confusion like a plasmabeam in the dark. Dana Santiago. All color drained from Baile's face as he turned around to face the newcomer. "You are not here.. I.. " he whispered wih barely more than a breath. All the strength faded from his arms.

"Shot me? Yes you did." the woman said, a hint of irritation crept into her voice. "You killed me, you killed me for something I didn't do. You got played Baile, and you know it."

"No.. "

"She's right you know." Caileb shrugged with a deep sigh. "Flea.. Flea.. old friend.. How much it pains me to say this Dana is right. She was no more a spy than my left foot." Caileb looked at the woman named Dana. "Kind of a downer to get shot by the man you had just declared your love to." he sighed again. "Truth hurts, son. I told you that years ago."

Baile's face regained some color. "You told me a lot of things, Colonel. None of this is happening.. This is just a dream."

"I also told you not to leave an enemy alive." A movement caught Baile's eye and he spun around. The blade on the knife slid into Baile's ribcage without any effort, guided by an expert it slid in between the ribs and punctured the heart.

His double held him up with the knife. It had pulled it out of the chest and stabbed Baile with it. "Oh, you're good, brother.. Good but weak and the weak always loose."

Caileb walked up next to them. "I'm sorry son. Only the best makes the cut and you're not the best anymore, Baile. Well.. Technically you are still the best, but not mentally, if you catch my drift." He patted Baile's double on the shoulder. "Now this one.. this one I like. A lot."

"This one has got potential. Not that you don't but I mean this one.. this one is just plain scary.. even for me.." Caileb chuckled and looked back at the others. "Ain't that right boys?"

Hendricks, Slayne and Beuchamps all grinned and nodded. "Hell yah, boss.. Mah thinks de ol' un was goin all softy on us." Slayne replied and Caileb only nodded.

Baile watched them all in silence. There wasn't much else he could do. He felt his body slip further and further away with each beat the heart tried to make. But he refused to let go. He clung desperately to the edge. He would not go quiet into the night.

Puffing on his cigar Caileb raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll be damned. You're still alive Flea.. I always knew you were a tough motherfucker, but this is.. quite something. You have my respect boy.. for what its worth." the Colonel nodded and looked at the others. "Now that that's said - who wants to shoot him?"

Dana stepped forward, laying a hand on Baile's shoulder. "I think I've earned that right, Colonel. After all he was the one that shot me in the heart, both metaphorically and literally."

Caileb looked at her for a moment before handing her his sidearm. He looked at Baile and shrugged. "Women. You miss one little thing, or in your case - hit, and they never let you forget, do they? So, any final words?"

Someone spoke to him. It sounded like a hundred miles away. Slowly, ever so slowly the words went past the barrier in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find it full of blood. Baile coughed as his muscles contracted and managed to spit out some of the blood. "This... isn't... real.." he whispered. His mind was all over the place, playing up memories he had long since forgotten.

"If it makes you feel better - of course it isn't real. How can it be? Dana has been dead for a five, or was it six, years now.. " Caileb replied with a bored tone to his voice. "Dana. Just shoot him."

The woman he had once loved raised the gun in front of his face. "I would shoot you in the heart, but I don't think you have one, Jebidah Baile. Safe travels, love.. I'll see you on the other side."

Thunder.

A flash.

Darkness.

“Ghostbuster O’Shea, who ya gonna call... SECURITY!”

Lieutenant Commander Brianna O’Shea, Chief Engineer.

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer

***Main Engineering**

Anna was standing in at the 'pool table' in main engineering. Looking over some data padds, mostly reports from section chiefs. Only when Yeoman Westlake stopped and handed her another padd did she look up and give a brief nod to the Yeoman.

"Thank you.." Anna offered and then looked down at the padd, figuring it to be the last report she was expecting.

When she began to read the brief note, Anna's brow nudged together into a expression etched in stone. "Someone is playing a prank on me at the expense of Dhani's death... I'll have their frelling head.." She muttered.

***Deck 8 ***

Dhanishta had only been back on the ship for a few hours, enough time to check into her new quarters and oversee the arrival of her belongings. In fact she had made it easy for her family to get them, seeing as she hadn’t unpacked any of them in the two years she had served on the ship. In hind sight she realised why. This place had never felt like home, she never felt like she belonged here. She had been so confused, so overwhelmed with the emotions that Suder had unconsciously smothered her with that she had no ability to comprehend her own thoughts and feelings. It was strange to be alone in her own mind again, to feel what she felt and not what ‘he’ felt.

She understood it all now. The empathic echo of Samaras accident was because of him. His feelings, his obsession rather, with his former CO had consumed his every waking and most likely sleeping thought. His mind was riddled by her like a parasite. And all his regrets, all his pain anguish and longing for her, and his anger as to what had happened had flowed into her, was it a wonder that she had been a neurotic mess?

She could remember all the things that had happened, all the times that she had died…. But still she couldn’t put any of it into words, and she knew that she would have to, very soon. Her day was littered with interviews, evaluations and meetings. And to be honest she didn’t know where to start.

Firstly someone called Lt Ward wanted to talk to her about the fight in engineering and what had happened with Suder, before she had fallen into a coma. Medical wanted to check her out and make sure she was fit for duty. Counselling wanted to schedule her in for a psyche examination. The Captain wanted to see her, her new CO wanted to see her, her friends wanted to see her.

And all she wanted to do was unpack.

That last though made her smile; unpack! After two years of utter crap she finally felt like she could call the USS Galaxy home. She had not expected the rush of emotions she had when she saw the Galaxy from the window on the USS Basilisk. She never dreamed of coming back, she never dreamed of being alive. She had been dead. And yes, she could remember all of it, as per usual.

As she walked down the corridor to Lt Wards office she trailed her hand along the walls. She smiled slightly, feeling the texture beneath her finger tips, she was home. At last!

Lt Wards office came and went as her feet lead her to the heart of her home. The place that she knew she belonged…

***Main Engineering.***

As the doors hissed open Dhani took in a lung full of engineers air! The light from the warp core dappled the deck and the hum, OH the hum of the core! It was such sweet pleasure to hear that sound again.

Images of the fight flashed through her mind. The feeling of retreating, staring at herself as she fell through the air, the thud as she landed, splatted, broken on the deck. The smell of her blood as it oozed from multiple wounds, the taste…

She stood and stared.

Her eyes glistened with moisture.

Slowly, ever so slowly she took a step forward into this place that she loved, this place that was full of nightmares and memories. They were engrained in the walls, forever stamped in her memory; she would never be able to escape them.

But somehow she had to find a way to live with them, come to terms with what happened and to find peace and solace in this place again.

As she stepped in the doors hissed closed behind her and she was surrounded by the sounds and the smells and the visions of what had been and what was. Faces bobbed around her, some familiar, but to them she was unrecognisable.

No she didn’t look like a Klingon anymore! They had returned her to her rightful visage, but the woman that slipped into a coma, the woman they all though they knew… she didn’t exist anymore.

Dhanishta had been restored she had been made whole. And while she had attributes of the Dhanishta that left the Galaxy on a bio bed, she had changed so much.

Even her appearance.

The full bodied healthy woman was now a shell of her former self. She had tried on her uniform when she had boarded the USS Basilisk but she drowned in it. Her new uniform fit her body tightly and snugly, it showed off her now incredibly petite form. Not that she had been fat! She had been healthy fit energetic; she had muscle on top of muscle and could beat a Klingon with her bare fists. But now, now she looked like something from a refugee camp. Her ribs poked out, and you could visibly count each one. Her stomach dipped in and her abs had gone. Her upper body had very little muscle and her breasts had decreased in size too. Her face was thin drawn and pale. Her cheekbones jutted out and her jaw was sharp, not round and womanly like it had been. The only thing that remained the same was her height, spots and hair colour.

And so she stood, her hands lingering by her sides her eyes trailing every detail of the room. Slowly she began to step forward, looking around at the walls, the consoles… the railing above her that she had plummeted from….

Anna was working with Ensign Westlake at the central console, so she didn't instantly notice anyone walking into engineering. Only when someone asked, 'can I help you' did she look up and notice the trill standing there. It was an eerie reminder of Dhani in some ways and not in others. "This area is for personnel only ma'am." Anna said.

Dhanishta eyes trailed down slowly from the railings until they fell upon O’Shea’s form. She recognised the woman; it was a long time ago; after the battle of Haravars when they had met. O’Shea had been overseeing the refit of the Galaxy; she had been in severe need of it!

Dhani smiled slightly, “Commander O’Shea.” Dhani nodded curtly. She frowned, and looked around at everyone, maybe she wasn’t cleared to be in here until she had spoken with Medical, or Ward, or counselling, or the Captain, or… the list went on and still she wasn’t sure who the hell to go to first.

“I won’t stay long.” Dhani replied, “I would just like to look around.” Or rather just torment myself with memories; she thought staring back up at the railings, “It’s been a long time since I was here….” She trailed off and began to walk across the room to the ladder that lead to the upper level, all the while trying not to freak out. She had to come to terms with this or else there was no point talking to the Captain or Medical or anyone. She may as well just get on the next freighter home. But where exactly was home?

Anna watched her and glanced off toward an ensign, ready to summon security. She then walked over toward the Trill woman, something about the way she walked was familiar. "Dhani?" Anna asked, almost near breathless.

Dhani turned around before she reached the ladder.

“Yes?” she replied simply.

Anna just stood there looking at her for a moment before moving over to hug the girl, holding her tightly for a few she then pulled back and looked at her. "I.. we all thought...-"

Dhani wasn’t quit sure how to react when O’Shea fervently hugged her. Her eyes widened and she stood slightly stiff in the embrace. She reciprocated and patted the Chief on the back. As O’Shea moved back Dhani looked at her puzzled,

“Dead?” she questioned.

Anna nodded. "Yeah.." She said.

“Well I was.” She smiled slightly and raised her eyebrows, “But I got over it. I didn’t like the look, it’s not my colour!” she joked, not really wanting to go into the details. She was totally aware of the nurses as they prepped her body for the morgue. She was so glad that Michael came at that moment to visit her, she would have woken up in a refrigerator, or worse, while they were doing the autopsy. She shuddered and blinked several times to get the imagery out of her mind. Turning her attention back to the Chief she took her hand, “It’s nice to see you too.” she said. “But didn’t you get the memo?” she asked curiously. As far as she was aware the ship was expecting her. She figured that they had all received word by now.

"Yeah, but I thought it was a joke." Anna said, still not understanding. "You died.. how do you just come back like that?" Anna asked.

Dhani looked round engineering and then looked back at O’Shea. She smiled slightly, not even she could answer that. Staring at the floor for a moment she thought about what happened, how she had come back, what she had done or the doctors had done.

“I made a deal with Death.” She concluded.

Anna looked at her. "That's not funny, Dhani." She said, reaching up part of her told her to call for security. Then she paused, took Dhani by the arm and took her toward the office. "You need to tell me what's going on, if you want my help, Dhani."

Dhani pulled back slightly as O’Shea grabbed her arm, but she followed, frowning.

“Need your help with what?” she asked a little confused.

"You.. were declared dead... you think it's so simple to walk back onto a starship as if you were out for a walk?" Anna asked.

Dhani stared at her, “I was also declared alive when I stood on my own too feet.” She replied a little defensive. She hadn’t exactly got out of bed herself, if Michael hadn’t shown up she would have been in a coffin. It was not a pleasant thought. It wasn’t until after he took her into the river that she opened her eyes, and later when she had been able to stand, if only for a few minuets. She was still on medicines to keep her upright.

"I don't know what the hell is going on, but until I hear from a medical doctor.. I can't let you walk around engineering.." Anna said, looking up slightly. "Security to Chief Engineers office..." She called out.

“Waite.” Dhani said taking her hand. “What is it your so afraid of?” she asked. “You want answers, try asking the right questions.” Her voice rose slightly. She wasn’t too happy with the warm welcome, “You were told that I was coming back, not my fault that you didn’t believe it.” She stared at the commander, her eyes cool as ice. “Now what is it you want to know?”

"I want to know who the hell you are... cause dead people do not get to come back like this... Did you fake your death?" Anna asked, cause if she did do what Nara did, she would go off on this girl and security would have to pull her off the Trill.

Dhanishta stood, amazed at the reaction, “I am Dhanishta Eshe, Lieutenant junior grade.” She replied earnestly. “How I came back… not even the brightest mind in the universe can tell you.” She could understand the commanders worry, if she was in her position she would be suspicions too.

“I can show you the report if you like, I just need to…” she paused and looked at the commander, there was no way she was going to give her access to her terminal.

“The report is accessed through the Trill database. I think the doctor assigned to me has already sent the files to Medical on the ship and the captain too. If you don’t already have it then you can ask the captain for a copy. And no,” she sighed, “I didn’t fake my death. And I have no idea as to why you would think that.”

"Then tell me, how one comes back from the dead?" Anna asked, folding her arms over her. "You can't, not with the technological level we are at. Event he slightest coma, you would have been registering alive."

Dhani shrugged, “I don’t, I can’t…” she had no idea how to put it into words. Looking around the room she tried not to focus on the memories that were flooding back to her, memories of Suder.

“Is there somewhere else we can have this conversation?” Dhani asked rubbing her arms as if she was cold, the memories made her flinch slightly.

"You’re in my office... less you want to finish it in the brig until I find out what the hell is going on." Anna said, then grinned.

Dhani look at her curiously, “I don’t see the funny side commander.” She replied in a serious tone. “Maybe you should keep track of the messages that come your way.” She said with slight venom in her tone, “Then when the ‘dead’ as you put it come waltzing back onto your ship you wouldn’t remind them of the fact that they had been declared clinically dead when in fact they were alive. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been prepped for the morgue, and endured…” she trailed off. This wasn’t a counselling session. And she was sure she would have all her feeling on the matter dragged out of her by Dallas soon enough.

She sighed and looked at O’Shea, “The doctors turned off the life support. My internal organs had failed and they declared me brain dead. The medics came in and prepped my body for the morgue. My heart had stopped and my respiratory system failed too. They stopped prepping me when Michael came to visit. They told him I was dead too. And for a time I was. I don’t know how to explain it to you commander, I was stuck somewhere inside my own mind. Inside Suders mind… something happened. The link was broken, severed and I was myself again. But I was also dead. I remember what it was like, the first time round. I fought so I could talk to my mother. But she didn’t hear me. I resigned, I gave up and let the blackness take me. And then the worlds changed, and …. And I could hear them, all of them. But they couldn’t hear me. Where I was how it happened, I don’t know. They believed that it was some will to live to survive. I don’t know. I just guess it wasn’t my time.” Dhani flinched again. She had enough of this office. She turned abruptly and walked to the door.

Anna sat down trying to think of all this. "Heart just doesn't start beating again, Dhani..." Anna said. "It's not logical.. Save your attitude for when you really need to show it." She said then stood back up. "Right now I don't know what to believe, I'm a person that lives by science and technology, hell your own sister sat right here with me and cried her head off telling me you were dead.. Now you’re not, suddenly." Anna said. "Doesn't make sense." Anna said as the door opened and two security officers stood there.

"Ma'am?" The taller man asked.

"Escort her to sickbay until we can verify who she says she is." Anna said.

Dhani waved off the security man and turned back to O’Shea, “With all due respect I have already had my identity verified on Starbase 212. Starfleeet is satisfied with who I am. Their entire medical staff is satisfied with who I am. My heart may have stopped, my body may have failed me, but there is more to life than science. You don’t believe me, then check the reports. All the facts are in there, all the science, as you put it is there. Every hypothesis is right there. The power of the mind is a great thing and you should remember that, commander. You want more understanding, then ask a Vulcan. I have no other answers for you.” She batted the security guards hand away and walked out of the office.

"Follow her..." Anna said, standing.

"Yes, Commander." The security team said and turned and left Anna to her thoughts. Nara had pretty much turned her cold to anyone in Dhani's position now. Now she had to sort out things and work them out, while focusing on the mission on the station.

"Concerns"

Lt. Cmdr Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, CE/SCE
Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer
Ensign Andrei Vronksy, Medical Officer (NPC - Trey)

ooc- This post takes place concurrently about the time of Cora and Cass's SECOND meeting.

Paulo ran down the corridor. He had just seen Anna pass by and he had some questions that needed answering, and with Cora in a meeting (again) he had no one else to turn to. "Anna!" Paulo yelled at the Lt. Cmd. causing a few crewmen to wince. It wasn't common knowledge yet that they were brother and sister (sharing the same father), and not a lot of people got away with calling her Anna.

Turning she looked and smiled at her brother. "Hey.." She said. "Something wrong?" She asked since he was running toward her.

"This is a Starfleet ship going on a mission, there is always something wrong," Paulo said catching up. "What is going on? There are rumors all over the ship. And sickbay is getting flooded with people with headaches. Headaches! No one gets headaches anymore," Paulo said. "The only time people get headaches is when there is something wrong with the circuitry up there," he said rubbing his head. His headache had come back for the third time in the last few hours. "And to top that off I have a feeling of danger. I hate when I get that feeling. I would ask Cora, but she is in a meeting again."

"Paulo, I've not been cleared to discuss it yet with junior officers... All I can tell you is that things are going to be happening fairly soon around here.. That you might want to get with Cora and see what you need you to do. She can debrief you better then I can on Intelligence."

Paulo cringed. That was one of the downfalls of being a junior officer, you usually never found anything out till it was to late. "Fine," Paulo said and gritted his teeth as his headache got worse real quick. He had to steady himself on the bulkhead. "Dammit, I wish these headaches would go away and stay away," Paulo said. At the same time his headache got worse he got a sense of helplessness from someone. "There is someone on that station," Paulo said. Why he said that, or how he knew he had no idea. Something was not right in this part of space, and something was definitely not right with him.

Anna looked around and pulled him over into a alcove. "What do you mean, someone is over there? Your in contact with someone?" Anna asked. She then reached out and felt his pulse, it was beating fairly quick. "Come on, we are going to sickbay."

"It's just feeling," Paulo replied as he took up step next to her.

Anna grabbed his arm. "Yeah, well your going to be feeling something up your ass if you don't began to walk with me." Anna said, as she began to walk him down the corridor. Thankfully they weren't far from sickbay. "When did you start having these feelings?" She asked, almost dragging him.

"The feeling someone is over there? Few minutes," Paulo replied. "The feeling of we are in a bad area and something terrible is going to happen, since we entered the system."

Anna didn't say much else when she got him to Sickbay. Waiting for a doctor, she turned to him. "Why didn't you report to sickbay when it started, or why didn't you report to your CO or counselor, someone?" Anna asked.

"Cause I had just spent over an hour with a counselor, I didn't really want to go back and hang out with one again," Paulo replied. His sister was acting just like that, an older, concerned sister. He wouldn't have come, but instead gone to his quarters to nap. "And my CO has been in meeting all day."

Just then Ensign Andrei Vronksy walked up. Andrei was a man of average height and weight, really nothing special about him other then his piercing blue eyes and goatee. "I'm Dr. Vronksy, is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

"Yes," Anna said, then began to tell him everything Paulo had told her.

"Well, lets get you over here and take a look at you." Andrei said, talking to Paulo.

Paulo groaned as he followed the Dr. over to a bio bed and he laid down.

"Paulo, that is only an excuse. You should have reported to sickbay or called for a medic. I'm not fusing at you, but this has nothing to do with counselors, Cora being busy or whatever. This," Anna said, shaking her finger at him. "Has to do with male ego and pride." She then looked at the doctor. "What's the diagnoses, Doctor?"

Andrei looked up from his tricorder. "Well I've checked him over, he's got some elevated adrenaline in his system.. not sure why about why that is though." He said. "That might cause the headache but I doubt it, we've had several in here today with the same kind of diagnoses." He said, as he moved to get a hypospray to ease the headache off.

"Is there anything in common with all those that came in here with a headache?" Something was wrong around this ship and he was going to figure it out one way or another.

"We are still working on the diagnoses and cause." He replied. "At best right now all I can do is give you something for the headache and tell you if any new symptoms appear to come back as soon as possible."

Paulo nodded. "Will do," Paulo said as he sat up. "Is there anything else?"

Andrei shook his head. "No, not really. Mainly if anything else happens just contact us as soon as possible... with that, I need to check on some other patients... you are free to go, Ensign." He said, then looked at Anna. "Commander.."

"Doctor.." Anna replied, then breathed a sigh of relief. "The things you do to make me worry."

"It's part of the job of being a younger brother," Paulo replied standing up. His headache had gone away, thank god, and he was ready to get back to work.

"You go talk to Cora... if you find out anything I can know, would you keep me apprised?" Anna said, then hugged him. "Don't make me worry, or I'll give you some real pain."

Paulo smiled and returned the hug. "Will do," he said. He still wasn't used to this whole having an older sister thing, but he was getting used to it, slowly.

"Good.. now I've got to go." She said, then smiled and hugged him once more, give him a kiss on the cheek and headed out of sickbay giving him a back hand wave as she headed out.

Paulo smiled and a few seconds later followed her out, heading for Intelligence.

"Chewing the fat" *Including snippets from Francis' "Racing Tomorrow"

Fleet Admiral John Q Bhrode Commanding Officer: Olympus Fleet Fleet

Admiral Jurgen Hoth, Director of Starfleet Tactical

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

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

"Peace is going to be hell on me." - General Patton

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

Observatory, Starfleet Tactical Proving Grounds, Phobos

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, Jurgen Hoth felt comfortable, though the feeling was fleeting and otherwise elusive.

"Admiral," Captain Thama Xia'Fen, Hoth's chief of staff, approached from the far end of the room, where he'd been waiting.

Thama paused when Hoth didn't reply immediately. "I have your itinerary prepared."

"Great," Hoth said, though his tone of voice clearly showed that he wasn't thrilled at the idea. 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. "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. "Has Captain Von Ernst reported in yet?"

"No, sir," Xia'Fen replied, motioning for the Admiral to follow him to the shuttlebay.

Hoth grunted in response, a sort of dissatisfied snort.

"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'."

"Please don't tell me that you have lost Wonder-girl, Jurgen. Hawksley will pine away for her to such a degree that I will likely have to take him out back and shoot the boy just to spare myself the image of his hand wringing," John Q. Bhrode said, marching unannounced, but not unexpected into Hoth's observatory. "Plus I don't want to have to make the call to Holly Von Ernst and tell her that her child is MIA. She'd likely be on the first shuttle over here, broomstick in hand."

"Johnny...come in." Hoth said, his spirits visibly lifted at seeing another like mind. Hoth nodded dismissively to Xia' Fen.

Thama blinked.

"Sir, may I remind you about the waiting shuttle." he said.

"Goddamn the shuttle craft. You tell them slack jaws that I will arrive prescicely when I intend to and not a moment earlier." Hoth barked. "This man is a goddamn hero and I think he earned a moment or two of my time."

He watched the Tactical Chief leave and then went over to his desk, opened a glass bottle and poured two drinks, handing one to Bhrode.

"Politics, Johnny. War is too serious a business for destinies of worlds to be controlled by politicians. This is a dangerous time we live in now. The Breen, Hydrans and the damn Tith'Kin Hive are waiting to pounce on our balls the minute we turn our heads. Who knows when the Klingons, Cardassians or Romulans will grow a wild hair and once again turn on us like a pack of dogs. The Dominion are going to make a move again sooner rather then later and all these bastards care to think about is Federation Day parades and breakfast with the president." Hoth said downing his drink in one gulp.

The steely eyed Bhrode nodded.

"Shakespeare said it best. Let me have war. It exudes peace as far as day does night. It's spiritly, waking and full of vent. Peace is a lethargy, mulled, deaf, sleepy and insensible. A getter of more bastard children then it is a destroyer of men."

Hoth slammed down his glass.

"AGREED! You and I are a rare breed, Johnny. We both know what has to be done and we have the stones to do so. Which reminds me..." he said pulling a set of bars from his desk drawer. He flipped them to Bhrode.

"Congratulations, Fleet Admiral." Hoth said.

"Aww, for Christ's sake. I could give a monkey's ass about another promotion." Brhode said with disgust. "After about 25 medals, you run out of shoulder to pin them on."

"Take 'em. You earned them. Just be glad that I was able to talk them out of the ceremony that they planned."

"I can't imagine that took too much effort, what with me being the black sheep of the Fleet high command. DeMerceau, Bacco and the rest of the lambs would sooner see me on a one way trip to the Delta Quadrant then to see me riding in the Kirk float in the parade throwing candy to the children with a fake smile on my face."

"Being ignored and excluded has it's advantages, old friend. Besides, they wanted you in the Sulu float. Tell me now, how is the fleet?" Hoth asked, filling his glass again and once more walking over to his window and gazing into the wreckage outside, floating in space like a silent sea of destruction.

"The last of the destroyers, the ARETMIS and the MERCURY have arrived and are ready. I would feel better with Von Ernst along on this mission, but the Olympus Fleet is strong, well trained and eager to do their duty." Bhrode said, joining his former mentor.

"Very good. The success of Project:NARNIA is critical, John. It could very well give us the edge to avoid disaster and keep these damn fools from shooting themselves in the foot. There is no man, living or dead, who I would have selected for this mission but you. Not Picard. Sisko. Price. No one." He gestured his arm towards what had once been the 3rd Fleet.

"Fathers. Mothers. Sons and daughters. All dead. The balance of power in this universe MUST be shifted back to the good guys, John. We can be the ones to do that. Then all those assholes who ignore us or spit in our faces will be lining up to kiss our asses."

He clasped his hand upon Bhrode's shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"We must complete this mission, John. Or don't come back alive."

Bhrode nodded crisply.

"I am ready to depart on your order, Admiral." the wily veteran said.

"Very good, Fleet Admiral. Let us all play our parts and a new chapter in the history books will be written soon." Jurgen toasted, his glass held high.

((OOC: To all involved, this is the post to describe what happened in the fighter we arrived in on its way out to the Galaxy.))

"Unpleasant Surprise"

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer
Ens. Ember Lansky

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

Starfighter en route from DS 5

Artim had taken the fighters' helm while Ember caught a quick catnap. They were still some time from their rendezvous with the Galaxy.. Piloting the fighter was surprisingly easy, it handled much better then anything he'd flown before. After a bit of time of boring flying he saw something odd on the sensors. Breen fighters, two of them paired with two Hydran ones. Instinctively Artim raised shields and started evasive action. He then jabbed an elbow into Ember's side as the Breen opened up.

"Hey, sleepy head, we got company. Couple helmet heads and a couple lizards."

With the warning, Ember was up, her senses quickly snapping to full alert as she took only a moment to orientate herself. Her eyes were fixed on the control, seeing their attackers wasting no time in letting loose their weapons fire. They were hit in multiple areas, the shields absorbing most of the damage with the help of some practiced maneuvering.

"They've broken through our shields! I'm transferring power from auxiliary systems," Ember shouted amidst the explosive rupture of the rear power conduit. The Starfighter swerved sharply, throwing her back against her seat with a lock of hair slapping against her wet brow as she assessed the enemy ships in the distance. They were outmatched and outgunned, but she wasn't about to give up without a fight.

"Dammit, with two star pilots at the helm, you would be think we would be out of this mess by now," She muttered angrily through gritted teeth.

As the Hydrans swooped in for a second attack and Artim managed to get a pair of torpedoes off at the Breen, Artim noted something else on the scanners.

"Well it should be a bit easier now, here comes some help. Our fighters, 6 Hawks." Artim said as his torpedoes found their mark. "Wait a sec, they're not just going after them...two of them are locking weapons on us!"

"What?" Her tone echoed stark disbelief, but she found confirmation soon enough. It was nothing close to an accident; their own fighters were targeting them! As reckless as she was, she recognized the odds. This was a losing battle, one they had no chance of winning. "We gotta get the hell out of here. We're not going to make it going head to head with these ships!"

"I'm not disagreeing." Artim said as he launched another salvo of torpedoes towards the Hydrans as the Hawks opened up, tagging the port nacelle. "You try and keep us together while I try and fly us out of here. The same people who taught you taught those other pilots but I had a rather...unconventional teacher.

She glanced askance at Artim. "I may have a few tricks myself that wouldn't exactly be conventional," She answered pointedly. She would have said more, but now was not the time to take offense at his presumptuous arrogance, an attitude she would gladly let slide if he did prove to have an escape route in mind.

Artim took manual control and started flying a rather of erratic series of maneuvers. It seemed to shake the two Hawks on their tail, but one of the Breen ships did catch a clean shot onto the starboard nacelle.

"Warp's gonna be kinda difficult now, I'm setting course for where the Galaxy should be. That last shot took out communications. If they're gonna kill us, I'm going to make them work for it."

"We won't be able to withstand much more weapons fire. Another shot or two would clean us out." She was reinforcing the structural integrity of the hull by taking all secondary systems offline. "Thrusters are at maximum. We need to put more distance between us and those ships… something that would give us an extra boost… The torpedoes?" She suggested, racking her head.

"No, but you are on to something, we can inject a small amount of antimatter into the fuel mixture, but it won't buy us much time. Though it might blow out our engines in the process.

With those words the Starfleet ships scored another hit, all but disabling the engines. At that point Artim didn't think and put two more torpedoes across the bow of the Hawks, hoping they'd break off. They didn't get the message from him, but the Breen did get them the message...as they finished off the engines.

"Well, now what? Out of torpedoes, no engines, life support damaged...we're screwed."

"I'd go with the antimatter. We have to take the risk. It's that, or we get busted by them," She said urgently. "At least this way, there's a chance we may be able to get out of this yet." There was no time to waste. It was now or never; she wasn't ready to wait like sitting ducks.

"I was prepping it as we discussed it. Hang on!", Artim shouted as he pushed the button that injected a small amount of antimatter into the impulse drive. The fighter shot off like a preverbial rocket. The pursuers were caught totally off guard and broke off after a few seconds, figuring they'd never catch up. That was a good thing because after about twenty seconds there was an explosion in the engines. Artim was thrown against his restraints and a moment later he'd passed out.

Simultaneously, flung by the sudden impact, Ember's head hit the console, blackness overcoming her in an instant.

The fighter continued to drift, its two occupants unconscious and unable to respond.

OOC: I suggest reading this post and the one that follows it. OOC Instructions will follow at the end of both posts.

"Gears of the Federation, Fears for the Federation"

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer
Strategic Operations Officer (Hydran Sector)
Operative Handler, Starfleet Intelligence

with... Captain Holly Hostetler Richman, SFI Liaison to the President's Office
Lt. Commander Ekoma Janx, Strategic Operations Liaison

****

0200, Executive Officer's Quarters, Deck 5, USS Galaxy

Cass Henderson was being a couch potato. It was something he didn't get a lot of time to do, given the fact that he was essentially working three positions, each of which took up nearly a full shift of work each day. What precious few hours he had to spare, he used wisely, for the sake of his sanity.

Gamma Shift, the midnight watch, was when he was most likely to be relaxing or sleeping. Generally he did about a half-shift of each, with a couple of power naps thrown in during the day shifts. Tonight was no exception. With the Hazard Team still on Deep Space Five, there wasn't a lot for him to do, even in a yellow alert situation.

Normally, he would have spent at least some of the time with Ekoma Janx, but she had been called in to cover Gamma Shift for Commander Corgan, who was leading the Hazards. He'd taken that in stride, knowing that it was bound to be an issue when dating one of the few qualified bridge officers. He'd have to go and see her after the shift, at least for a while.

Oh, for the bliss of normalcy.

~As if that will ever happen again,~ he thought cynically. Between work and the situation the USS Galaxy now found itself in, he knew he was going to be busy. The whole thing - eerily dead station, starship graveyard, on edge crew - made him feel like somebody had a cold hand over his heart and was occasionally squeezing it, just to find out what would happen.

His nerves were fraying quickly, one by one.

So there he was, on his couch, trying to relax by watching something mindless on the holonet. In this case, the first new episode of the holodrama 'Starfire' since the show had been canceled in 2373. It was kind of strange watching it now, seeing Jasmine Heloi back in the title role - Adora Starfire. During her service on the Galaxy, she had appeared to be a hardworking young woman who wanted more from life than the easy existence of a pop culture icon.

~So much for that,~ Cass shrugged. He'd stopped trying to figure out people in Starfleet who weren't career officers. It was just something he didn't entirely get, despite years of training in the art of determining what people were thinking, desiring, and doing. He understood which desires drove them whatever ends, just not why they chose those desires over the ones he did.

The human condition?

He shook his head and refocused on the holonet screen, intent on not watching the same scene for the fourth time in a row. The relaunch episode had Jasmine... Starfire being rescued from the mind prison of her arch nemesis, eight years after being captured, only to find that the universe has gone to pot in the...

*CHIRP, CHIRP*

The computer chime caught his attention. Who would be calling at 0400? But he knew, before he even started to respond.

He paused the holodrama and shuffled over to his desk to accept the message. He was unsurprised to see the Starfleet Intelligence seal gracing his terminal. Few people called after 2200 hours. He ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator and settled in. ~After 2400 hours, it's only spooks like me.~

The image of a tall, thin woman with the rank insignia of a captain in intelligence appeared on the screen. Cass recognized her immediately and refrained from frowning. She only called when things were bad. He started the conversation amicably, though, saying, "Evenin', Holly. What's up?"

Captain Holly Hostetler Richman was Starfleet Intelligence's liaison to the office of Federation President Nanietta Bacco. The usually upbeat human woman had been one of the instructors at SFI's advanced training when he'd passed through. They continued to communicate, unofficially, once or twice a month. [Ugh. Do you want the short answer or the long one?]

That didn't sound good. But then again, recent events considered, there was a lot to be feeling 'ugh' about. He glanced at the wall chronometer, to make sure he had time before he absolutely needed to sleep. "I'll bite. Give me the long answer."

[I'm sure you've heard a lot about the 'Section 31 Coup',] she said, shuffling padds around on her desk, probably in a futile attempt to be able to wake up to something organized in the morning. Which was unusual, Cass reflected, because Holly was usually even more organized than he was. Which was a sobering insight. [We're going to be feeling the effects of it for a long time to come. I still can't believe Admiral Illyanovitch and Captain Serpico were leading the whole thing, right under our noses.]

"Tell me about it," he nodded, knowingly. The news had been talking about the coup attempt ever since Federation Day, a little a week ago. "How are things at headquarters? Brenna called me earlier this week, and it sounded pretty chaotic."

[It was, but it's getting better. Right after Admiral Batanides was appointed as the new Director, she fired all the assistant directors, and everyone was scrambling to fill the power void. The upper command chain was a mess.]

Cass frowned, further etching worry lines into his face. Internal power rearrangements at Starfleet Intelligence HQ rarely resulted in good intelligence recovery. Not at first. "It's good to hear that Admiral Batanides is getting everything under control. I do believe that she's the right one for the job in a post Illyanovitch environment."

[Because she's everything that he wasn't and nothing that he was?] Holly seemed to chuckle.

"Exactly," Cass replied. "Any word on new Assistant Directors?"

[Only one so far,] Hostetler Richman replied, a little hesitantly. [She gave the Assistant Director of Clandestine Operations to Jordan Elaithin, and promoted her to Captain.]

Henderson's frown turned into an outright scowl. "Maybe I'll have to rethink my position on Admiral Batanides. What the hell is she thinking? Elaithin allowed herself to be controlled by Serpico to the point where she was relaying orders for Section 31!"

[I know. It doesn't make any sense to me, either,] she agreed, [But then again, weren't we all deceived by Illyanovitch and Serpico?]

"Yeah, but we weren't duped coordinating his plots for him," Cass shook his head. "No. This makes zero sense. If Illyanovitch hadn't been a traitor, and she'd made that kind of mistake under him, he'd have stripped her of her commission, just like he did to me. At the very least, she should be the subject of an inquest, then shuffled off to watch her career die in some backwater assignment."

[I can't say I disagree, Cassius,] Holly replied, quietly. [But you know Murdock wouldn't have allowed that to happen.]

"We should all be so lucky as to have benefactors who are C-in-C," Cass quipped, before remembering that Holly Hostetler Richman had been mentored and supported by Admiral Ross, the now retired C-in-C of Starfleet. "Sorry about that, Holly. No offense."

She shrugged. [None taken. I see your point.]

Cass nodded, appreciatively. "You know, that reminds me. Holly... What happened to Ross?"

[I don't know, Cass,] Hostetler Richman shook her head, probably unsure of how to talk about the subject, which wasn't exactly the best she could have hoped for. [Bill... Admiral Ross just... retired. Yesterday morning, from the Palais newsroom. It makes as much sense as Jordan Elaithin in charge of Clandestine Ops. But it happened all the same.]

"Yeah," Cass commented, though he knew that she was leaving something out. Admiral Ross had done a lot of work for Starfleet Intelligence during his career, and had mentored several of the 'movers and shakers' in SFI, including Hostetler Richman and his own mentor, Captain Brenna Worthman. "Ross doesn't seem the type to flee in the face of trouble."

[He isn't.] Holly propped her jaw up on her hand. Exhaustion was etched in her still young features.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cass asked. She was dancing around something important. He followed the line of thought to it's natural conclusion. "You don't think somebody forced him to retire, do you?"

[I do. No... I know who forced him to retire,] she admitted, uncertain about her decision to tell him. [Admiral Murdock, Admiral deMercereau, Captain Elaithin, and Captain Holmes were all into see him the night before.]

"The leaders of the anti-31 unit... what were they calling it?" Cass frowned, finally understanding why Holly had been reluctant to tell him. He had become an ally of the woman known as 'The Sword' after being cashiered from SFI, sending her reports and occasionally training a promising tactician for her. Rima Pennington had been his last, perhaps failed, attempt.

[Section 13 is the *official* designator. The whole thing is being retroactively sanctioned by Murdock and Batanides,] Holly clarified, then answered his question before he could ask it. [I'm pretty sure that Admiral Ross has been tied to Section 31. There's a rumor going around that he had Min Zife killed.]

"What? Is there any basis to it?"

[I wish I could say that there isn't, but... William Ross is a pragmatic man. If he thought it was in the best interests of the Federation to ally himself with 31, for whatever reasons, then he probably did it.]

Cass frowned. And there you have it. A Dominion War hero sinking to the depths of traitors. "Do you think he was a part of the Coup attempt?"

[No. To be honest, he's seemed very distracted lately in briefings with Bacco,] she replied, sadly. [Like something big was happening and he was losing control of it. I know that look.]

"So you're thinking that he probably opposed Serpico's scheme, but couldn't stop it?" Cass asked, conjecturing.

[Not without signing his own death warrant,] Captain Hostetler Richman replied, shifting uneasily in her chair. [At least they had Ross retire instead of resign. I don't know if the government can take another PR hit like those last two.]

"Agreed. We'll thank the heavens for small miracles," he replied. "I take it that SFI is going to bury his involvement?"

[Maybe. President Bacco said that she was going to avoid doing anything that resembled a cover-up,] she quirked her lips, unsure. [She's basically haunted by the ghost of Min Zife's Administration.]

"I'm sure. It's a ghost with a lot of skeletons in it's haunted closet."

[Well, it's getting late, so I have to go,] Hostetler Richman replied, before her face contorted into a yawn. [See. Anyway... Batanides is cleaning house around here, and I'm so tied to Ross that... What I'm trying to say is that I might not be around SFI HQ for too much longer. I'll be in contact either way.]

"Try not to think about it too much, Holly," Cass supplied, "I'm sure it'll work itself out. You've done your duty with honor, from all accounts."

She nodded. [Goodnight, Cassius.]

[Peace be with you, Holly,] he replied, and shut the link.

Standing up, he stretched his hands up toward the ceiling. Yawning, he walked over to the couch, content to watch the end of the episode before going to see Ekoma. Somehow, despite all the bad news and uncertainty, talking to somebody familiar had been helpful.

His peace, however, was short lived.

[Bridge to Commander Henderson,] Ekoma Janx's sweet voice carried through his quarters. The formality in her tone reminded of how distant she'd seemed at the Startegic Operations briefing.

"Henderson here. What's going on, Ekoma?" he asked, withdrawing his hand from where it had been hovering, stopped just seconds away from touching the remote.

[Commander, I need you to get down to the VIP Guest Quarters,] Janx's disembodied voice said. He could hear the fear and concern breaking through her forced formality. Something new had gone wrong.

"What happened?"

[Ambassador Omar has been murdered.]

****

0311, Ambassador Omar's VIP Guest Quarters, Deck 9, USS Galaxy

Cass Henderson had seen a great many things in his career, some of which had been more than a little disquieting to the mind and the stomach. When he arrived in Ambassador Omar's quarters, the bloody mess of corpse, blood, and other fluids, turned his stomach.

The unnatural smell made him want the vomit.

This was no accidental death.

** Content Warning ** Rated R+ for nudity, sexual situations/innuendo (no actual sex), and violence. However, that said, this post is really important and unless you're particularly squeamish, I'd suggest at least skimming it to find out what happens at the end.

"The Very Bad Night of Ramir Omar"

by Writer X

Senator Ramir Omar, Rihannsu Ambassador

Major Sharien T'Riasau, Rihannsu Naval Intelligence Liaison

****

1200, Ambassador Omar's VIP Guest Quarters, Deck 9, USS Galaxy

So far everything had fallen into place. Nothing had gone wrong. Not even the turn of events and the sudden change in the mission. Major Sharien T'Riasau had met the Ambassador, sweet talked him as only a true Rihannsu woman could, and now was laid back, seductively, in the desk chair inside Omar's quarters. Her legs crossed in perfection, hair perfectly in place. Anyone could tell by looking at her that she was the model of an intelligence officer of the Rihannsu Empire.

Now that her mission's completion was at hand, the thought of what this night would bring, made the slender dark haired woman's lips turn up slightly in a smile.

Ramir Omar, Junior Senator and son of the Proconsul of the Rihannsu Senate, licked his lips in the manner of a wolf watching it's prey. He considered himself something of an interstellar hunter of fine women, and Sharien T'Riasau had always been a prime target of his hunt.

Indeed, it was too easy. Women were impressed by power, he found, and that made his task simple. Whether it was another doe-eyed ensign from flight control, a crewman on her first sighting of an alien man, or the fiery redheaded Chief Engineer, there was rarely a week when he didn't enjoy himself.

Tonight, though. Tonight would be different.

Major Sharien T'Riasau, the elusive liaison from Rihannsu Naval Intelligence, was clearly more than a quarry to be hunted. No. Tonight he would finally, after much subtle pursuit and attention, share his bed with an equal. "I'll be just one moment, my dear Sharien," he said smoothly, the model of Rihannsu courtesy.

Turning his back and walking to the door, he grinned. He was in the groove, which was probably why she had agreed to accompany him back to his quarters for the evening. Opening the doors to his quarters, he stepped outside.

"Himne," he addressed his aide. "You and my bodyguards have the evening off. I won't be requiring your services tonight."

The bodyguards sneered, and Himne looked impressed. He hadn't credited the senator with that much ability. Clearly he'd underestimated the man's social skills. Omar ignored the looks, though he privately savored the one upping he'd just given Himne, who was entangled with some... *Vulcan* from sciences.

Turning his attention back to T'Riasau, he favored her with a wide smile, showing off his impeccable teeth. "Now then, I don't think we'll have any interruptions. You were saying, Sharien?"

"Only that I was... too preoccupied before to notice just how..." she paused to look over his body, "well you have... defined yourself." She stood up. "How about some of the good vintage Rihannsu Ale I know you have... Senator?" T'Riasau asked, as she unzipped her black tunic to show how casual she wanted this evening to be. "A woman can develop quite a thirst..."

"I would imagine," Omar readily agreed, unable to believe his luck. She wasn't even making him work for it. After months of waiting. He swept over to his trophy case, which displayed the honorifics he'd garnered over the years, to press a button on the side. The case whirred and the inset shelves slid aside, revealing a glistening display of the riches one could only acquire in Ki Baratan, the capitol city. He had used his influence well to have them all delivered across the many light years between Starbase 212 and the homeworld.

"The Starfleeters watch you far more closely than they do me. There are benefits to being in the diplomatic service," he said, leaning in to remove a bottle of the finest vintage of Rihannsu Ale, as well as two stemmed glasses. "You should consider the diplomatic corps, Sharien. I'm certain that they could make use of a woman with such obvious... talents."

"So you've noticed my talents have you?" she asked, with a hint of a humor. "I'm not surprised. You are very perceptive. However, you flatter me, Ramir."

Sharien replied, watching him pour two drinks. "Your quarters remind me of the shore of Trayvor Village, my home. The tranquility of it, welcomes by soul. The lingering surprises waiting to happen makes me eager for more," she said, moving over to sit down on the sofa. Sharien watched him from behind. "You are lucky, Ramir. Out here you are a God. ch'Rihan is full of too many politicians who only seek their own glory." She knew she was getting to him. Just the way he seemed to get a little taller when she talked was what give her the indication that he liked it. "You make me wait, as if I'm a child being punished. Join me... here," she said, gesturing to the couch which was free.

~I will punish her indeed.~ He chuckled at her attempt at humor, leaving his outer robe on the dining table before moving to join her on the couch. He draped an arm casually across her thigh. "And you flatter me, Sharien. Perhaps not unfairly. But still, shall we put this waiting game to rest?"

After looking at him for a moment, Sharien took a sip of the ale and rested her hand over his on her thigh. She then scooted forward and leaned to set their drinks down on the coffee table. "Time is always of the essence, isn't it?" she said, then turned. As she did she opened her legs up and straddled his lap. Sitting there on him, Sharien rested her hands on his chest. "You don't know why I made you wait?"

"I need to make sure you know I am pure when I'm with you. When you are inside me, I want you to know you're inside a Rihannsu woman. Not a human girl who is not worthy to touch you," she said, then gripped his chin slightly. "I want you to see... just how worthy... I am," she whispered in a husky voice, then kissed his lips softly before kissing on his jawline and down onto his neck.

"Yes, I agree," he breathed, encouraging her with a caress down her slender, well defined back. Her tender ministrations were subtle, like a true Rihannsu woman, not the slutty fumbling of the Federation whores he was used to. This would be a night to remember. "I suppose we will have to find you a way to prove just how pure of a Rihannsu woman you are."

He gave in to his baser instincts and applied firm pressure to her shoulders, implying where he wanted her to go.

Sharien grinned and looked at him. "I wanted this... more then you could understand," she whispered as she kissed his chest. Nipping at his muscular body with her teeth, Sharien, circled her tongue around his nipple and bit him softly. Part of her actually enjoyed when he moved under her. That made this all the better. As she moved her hips between his thighs, now kneeling on the floor, Sharien looked at him as she kissed his stomach. Her hand resting on his groin. Massaging the trunks he wore under his robe. "Tonight... I will feast on your body," she said, then grinned.

"Then feast, Sharien," Ramir replied, his voice thick with lust. "Let our passions combine as only the pure can."

****

0230, Ambassador Omar's VIP Guest Quarters, Deck 9, USS Galaxy

After a few hours Sharien laid her sweaty body down on Ramir's. His hands resting comfortably on her hips. Laying there in his bed she just listened to the heartbeat of his body. "You were amazing..." She whispered.

Ramir Omar reclined luxuriously beneath her, the deed done... several times. She had been as good as he'd expected, and somehow better, somehow familiar. He traced a lazy line across the sheen of sweat on her body, basking in the knowledge of what he'd done to make her that way. "And you were indeed very worthy. A true daughter of ch'Rihan."

Running her finger along his collar bone. "You amaze me," Sharien stated, looking into his eyes. "Close your eyes," she said, running her fingers over his eye lids to close them. "Listen to my voice.. here the gentle vibration of each word that comes out of my mouth. Feel the warmth of my breath as it washes over your skin," the Rihannsu woman continued. Sliding her free hand off the bed she reached down to her boot, and into it. She soon pulled her hand back with a small hypoinjector. Pressing softly to his neck, she depressed the trigger, and watched as his eyes flared open. "The toxin works fast to paralyze the body and vocal chords... my lover," she said, now rising up to sit astraddle of his hips totally nude. "Riddle me this.. riddle me that. This corba bites back."

She grinned wickedly.

Moving off him, she walked around the room nude for a moment. Then she slid on his robe, though she didn't die it closed. Sharien moved to go get a data padd she had carried inside her. Taking it, she took her place again atop Ramir and opened the datapadd as if it were a book. Inside were small vials, knifes, and other little instruments.

She placed it off at his side on the bed.

Leaning down, she crossed her arms over his and looked into his eyes. "I like you best when you say nothing at all," she whispered, then reached over and picked up a knife and began to cut into his chest. She cut patterns into his chest, swirls and diamonds. All symbolic, really. When he grunted, Sharien smiled even more. As the blood ran from his skin, she looked up to his eyes.

"You have outlived your purpose," she told him. Plunging the poisoned knife into his chest, as she starred into his eyes. She knew *exactly* where she had stabbed him.

She only wanted to pierce one of his lungs, so it would slowly fill with blood and poison. Pulling the knife out she then reached for her other hypo and pressed it to his neck, injecting the nanites into him. "Those are a gift from a friend. You see, those are special nanites. They feed on organs... and for every one the medics remove, two will be replicated. Thanks to the poison, which has no known cure in the *Starfleet* database, you're paralyzed both physically and vocally... the more they try to save you, the faster they will kill you," she said, then laughed through her teeth.

Omar's body was wracked with pain. His instincts told him to move, to try to save himself, to kill his assassin. But his body betrayed him. The cocktail of drugs and nanites, mixed with the Rihannsu Ale, kept his body firmly out of his control. There was nothing that the Senator could do but watch himself die. Nothing but watch as the Starfleet medical technicians killed him.

Nothing but wonder what he had done to earn the ire of the Director.

"Beg me with your eyes for mercy," she said, gripping his neck. "You should know... Your father... he's next," Then she vaulted off him for the dismount and picked up her things. Pulling the last hypo out she stood there, by his bed. She reached up and pulled the dark wig off and smiled evilly. "Not everything is as you believe anymore... surprise..." the woman said, as she pressed the hypoinjector to his chest and injected him with the toxin that began to shut down his internal organs. "For liberty..." The woman whispered as a cold calculating smile came over her features.

If Ramir Omar had a shred of his sanity left, the moment his killer removed the wig, it was torn away, leaving his mind twisting in the agony that his body could not react to.

Within two minutes, he was dead.

OOC: Takes place just after "What's Beyond Reality" Part 1.

"What's Beyond Reality - Hopeless" (Part II)

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer (F. Byrne)
1st Lieutenant T'Shani A'Akledorian, CO: SFMC Furies (M. Miller)

****

A grand empty canvas,
creating my life
A strange situation,
there's no wrong or right
And I'm learning,
along the way...

From the first time I met you,
what could I do?
But pray for the strength,
to see this one though
And I'm trying,
but it slips away...

It's hopeless,
so hopeless...

****

Carushen Beach, Pacifica, 2374

Cassius Henderson finally found her, after hours of searching the streets of Carushen City, Pacifica's only city that wasn't partially beneath the surface of the globe spanning ocean. Taking out his frustration on the borrowed hovercar, he slammed on the breaks, swinging the vehicle expertly into a space and switching off the military police lights that had granted him leave to drive at high speeds with impunity. The car halted almost immediately, precisely where he'd been planning. He slammed his fist down on the power down button, and leaped over the door before the car could even settle onto stationkeeping repulsors.

He got about four steps before the dog started barking. The noise took the wind completely out of his sails and brought him back to reality. He walked back over to the car, willing himself to put aside his overwhelming worry in the name of peace. With all the adrenaline coursing through his system right now, he knew that he would probably need a sleep-aid if he wanted any rest tonight.

He would have charged down to the beach, intent on uncovering the truth, had the dog not started whining. Taryn's dog, Karo. The name that meant messenger in Japanese. ~Perhaps this moment is a message,~ he mused, before turning around.

He walked over and opened the door to the convertible hovercar, releasing the golden retriever locked within. The dog hopped out and immediately licked his tanned palm. He sighed... When he'd suggested to Taryn Dalheimer, his fiance, that they vacation on Pacifica, he'd been expecting a month of surfing, romance, and general irresponsibility. A month away from the pressure of Starfleet Intelligence, the Dominion, and their lives in the fleet.

He certainly hadn't expected to be drawn into a local conflict with anti-Federation dissidents. They'd both been distracted by each other, so much so that neither of them had seen the dissidents coming until after they'd snatched Taryn. At first their actions didn't make sense, until Cass remembered that Taryn's mother was Councilor Kelafra Dalheimer, representative to the Federation Council from Sorvens II.

After convincing the local government to classify the group as terrorists, Cass had lead the rescue team, outmaneuvering the dissidents. It had gone off without a hitch, or so he'd thought until he'd gotten to take a close look at Taryn after the others had been taken into custody.

Cass had truly admired his fiance's strength in that moment, ignoring her own injuries until everything else had been squared away. But strength could only go so far when a person was mistreated as savagely as Taryn had been.

Especially when that person was six months pregnant.

Though he had wanted to stay by her side, the Doctors had insisted that he would only get in the way and further endanger Taryn and their unborn son. That was something Cass would never do, so he had gone back to the Federation Consulate to file a report to Starfleet Command, leaving Taryn at the hospital. When he'd come back a couple of hours later to visit her, she was gone.

At first it hadn't seemed too out of the ordinary. He'd told himself that she'd probably gone back to the rented beach house to wait for him, but when that had turned up empty and Lieutenant Yahano at the Consulate hadn't seen her, he'd started to be more than just a little worried, as visions of the terrorists stealing her away and brutalizing her all over again had flashed through his mind. Had they not captured all of the dissidents?

Six hours later, Cass was fairly sure he'd caught up to her.

He walked out onto the beach, the dog racing ahead to it's master, who was sitting by the water with her legs pulled up to her chest. The crimson light of the setting sun outlined Taryn's smooth features, marred as they were by her tears. Before he'd even gotten within shouting distance, Cass could tell that his fiance was on the verge of complete breakdown. Red faced, Taryn Dalheimer had buried her head in her hands immediately upon spotting the dog, continuing to quietly sob and shake.

Cassius sighed wearily, and eased himself down to the ground beside the young woman. He moved to put his arm around Taryn's rapidly quivering body. When Taryn hesitated, seemingly unable to decide whether to shy away from his touch or not, Cass instantly felt like there was a world of distance between them, and it hurt. Withdrawing his arm, he instead chose to simply sit next to her.

"What did the doctors say?" he asked, gently brushing the hair away from Taryn's dark brown eyes. Though they were bloodshot, he was instantly reminded of the same dark eyes that he'd fallen in love with that evening on Saturn Station's crowded promenade, over a year and a half previous.

At first, this elicited only a sob from Taryn, who rubbed at her raw, tear wracked eyes before she looked up. "I'm fine..." she replied, taking in the weight of her words before repeating them. The councilwoman's daughter eased into her fiance's strong arms. "I'm fine."

"Then what?" Cass expressed his confusion as he allowed Taryn into his embrace. If Taryn was 'fine', then why was she sitting on the beach crying her heart out, unless...

Realization dawned all over his face.

"YES!" Taryn wailed, drawing stares from the other young people enjoying the evening on the beach, before she forced herself to speak at a less piercing level. Turning to look Cass in the eyes, Taryn shook her head, confirming all of his worst suspicions. "Yes... Oh, Cassius, I killed our baby. The doctors told me that he's dead."

Cass was instantly overwhelmed with the feeling of being unable to breath. He clasped Taryn to him, gasping for air and blinking back the tears that immediately swarmed to his eyes. Trying to contain his grief, he quickly put together an semi-intelligent response. "No... you didn't kill him... you didn't. That's impossible. If anyone killed our child, it was the scum who beat you."

"I... I wish I could believe that, Cass," Taryn whispered, and pushed him away, forcing herself to stand. "Cass, I loved you more than anyone I've ever known."

Past tense. That could only mean... "Taryn, we can get past this. We don't have to ruin the best thing in our lives. We haven't lost ev..."

"No," Dalheimer cut him off, tears streaming down her face. Breaking ties was clearly something she didn't want to do. It was something she thought she had to do. "No more. Please, don't try to stop me. It just won't be healthy for us. I can't face you, Cass. Being with you is only going to make me remember the life that I gambled with. And I wish that it could be different... I do love you, Cassius. I love you. But I don't know if we can ever be what we used to be. Our bond died with our son."

She stopped, choking on her tears. Cassius was clenching his teeth together, narrowly succeeding, by sheer force of will alone, to fight off the tears, and the panic, and the pain.

"I'm going back to Earth. Please don't try to find me."

"Taryn, that's not..."

Taryn Dalheimer shook her head before walking over to Cassius. She pressed her smooth palms to his roughly shaved cheeks and passionately kissed him, perhaps for the last time. Through all of Taryn's weeping, Cass was surprised to find that she still tasted as sweet as ever. In a way, it made the moment all the more bitter.

"I need my space, Cassius. I'll call you when I'm stable again. I swear it," she whispered, then turned and walked out of his life.

He watched her go, unable to stop her. Karo looked back at him, in the sad way that only a dog can - when it knows that it's master is hurting and wants to comfort him - and then trotted off after his owner.

Cassius Henderson had never felt more alone, lost, and helpless in his life. One week earlier, and he had been the master of his own destiny, fighting for the future of the Federation, beautiful fiance and their unborn son at his side. He's been living the patriot's dream. Now he was completely out of control... like a hovercar with no manual controls.

He stood up from the sand, wiped the tears from his eyes, and walked back to the hovercar.

Three hours later, the medics pulled Cass out of the wreckage of the embassy's hovercar, found wrapped around a median in the middle of Pacifica's Alorha City, several hundred miles away over a long bridge.

****

The Present: Mirusa VI

Once again, Cassius and T'Shani were released from the vision.

~Or, memories?~ Tish asked, both herself and Cassius. Now she understood what he had lost: that which she had never been able to gain. For a few moments, laying on the cold stone floor, she wept with him. Gently, she took his hand in hers, curling her slender, long blue fingers over his clenched fists in a comforting manner. Instead of trying to offer up vain words of comfort, however, she just laid there, beside him. Both of them already knew the loss... the loss that had been too great to bear. Once again, Cassius and T'Shani were released from the vision. And this time, the scar wasn't across a chest, or a line drawn of skin. No, it sunk much deeper, much truer. It was the deepest scar: that of a broken heart.

Cassius starred blankly at the cobwebbed ceiling. He'd long ago buried that memory deep inside him, trying desperately to will it away, for it to have never happened. And now, the alien guardians had ripped it from his mind and laid it bare for T'Shani to see. He cursed the quirk of fate that had brought them before these things that had no sense of privacy, or respect for the dead.

But, at the same time, as he felt T'Shani entwine her fingers with his, his ire died out. She understood. Of course she understood. In that moment, they both understood *exactly* what tragedy life could be.

He squeezed her hand gently, appreciatively.

T'Shani was about to say something, anything to comfort him. Both of their rawest experiences were now laid bare for the other. And as each saw the other's weakness, their darkest moment, somehow they both gained strength from it.

~VERY GOOD,~ the Nerru Guardian interrupted their moment of understanding. ~NOW THAT YOU ARE ONE IN WEAKNESS, YOU ARE ONE IN STRENGTH. THIS IS THE WAY OF PROGRESS. BUT WHERE YOU UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER, YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW YOU RELATE TO EACH OTHER. RELATIONS ARE THE KEY TO UNLOCKING THE FUTURE.~

The Guardian paused for dramatic affect. ~NOW. PROGRESS!~

~*This* is... progress?~ Tish thought derisively, just before darkness enveloped their minds, again.

"Creepiness" - Part 1

Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security/Hazard Team CO
Major Corran Rex, Vanguard Squadron CO
Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Manager
Lieutenant JG Claire Barnes, Security Officer/HT XO
Lieutenant JG Chase Remur, Senior Tactical Computer Specialist
Lieutenant JG Walter Marsh, Hazard Team Specialist
Lieutenant JG T'lan, Hazard Team Specialist
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Engineer
Master Chief Madden Jayce, CMC, DS5

****

Shuttlecraft Serengeti, Main Shuttlebay, Deep Space 5

Claire was excited about this away team mission, since it hopefully looked like she would actually get to do something other then stand around. The armoury officer had been a bit surprised when she left with the equipment she had requested. The shuttle had just touched down, so she went through a double-check of her gear.

"Battle armour, check. Swords, check. Heavy photon rifle, check. Stun grenades, check. Flares, check. Security tricorder, check. TDU, check. Transporter enhancer, check."

Corran deftly maneuvered the type-eleven shuttlecraft into on of Deep Space Five's open docking bays, his helmet down at his feet. The Trill paid no attention to the various weapons checks the gunbunny was doing, having seen such behavior any number of times before from her type. For the most part, he considered himself lucky that he wouldn't have to wear an EVA suit - his flight suit, when properly sealed with gloves and the right attachment for his helmet, served that well enough.

After his conversation with Remur, the pilot had started muttering to himself about how driving a shuttle felt rather like having lead bricks tied to his hands at feet. Piloting anything other than a starfighter was not his first choice, but he still had a nagging feeling about what had happened here at DS5.

Chase Remur looked up from the control panel in the cockpit next to Major Rex. They'd spent the fifteen minute shuttle ride to the station swapping stories about the Galaxy's Executive Officer, who they both counted as a friend. For her part, she'd gone with a much lighter tactical suit, form fitting and easy to move in. Besides, she looked damn good in it. She wasn't one of the more combat capable of the team, so she'd chosen a much lighter kit, completed by her customized hacker's tricorder.

"Hey, Commander Corgan, we're here and the station's got atmo. I don't think we should leave the EVA suits home, though. There's no telling what's over there," she called back to the rest of the Hazard Team. Turning to Corran, she grinned, "Well Rex, we're here. You planning on coming with?"

"Yeah." the Major replied. "I'm not sitting around in this increasingly eerie-ass shuttlebay." he said quietly. Looking into the darkened room, he could see a few shuttles hadn't left - including one that had rammed another that had been apparently trying to leave. The wreckage of the two shuttles left a mess he'd had to navigate carefully around when he'd brought the Serengeti in.

While the others were showing signs of uneasiness, James Corgan remained, if only on the outside, an unflappable island of calm in the eerie storm of foreshadowing danger. He watched the strewn debris, helpless as he was in the hands of the shuttle jocks, reminding himself that as the commanding officer he had to be the one looked upon as their rock, their bastion, their fortress.

He wondered to himself how he could be all that when his mind was flashing a constant red alert warning. The wreckage of the shuttle bay area was evident enough that whatever happened was violent. The nature of the... attack was all he could classify it as, was not of a kind that could be fought back with phasers and infantry...

...Even the Hazard Team could not handle everything. But handle they had to. As the first response to the most dangerous and unknown of threats, Corgan's team had no choice.

"Any signs of life out there?" James double checked his holdout phaser.

"No, sir. No movement in the shuttlebay. Not much by way of life signs," Chase replied, standing up to join the rest of the team in the back of the shuttle. "This place is dead."

An uncomfortable feeling centered itself in Corran's abdomen, right behind his symbiont pouch, as Remur made his assessment. This all seemed like some kind of it were some kind of dream - some sort of permanent deja vu.

Removing a hypospray from his jacket pocket, Corran injected himself with the compound that would keep his T'Rex's Syndrome in check. Now would be a very bad time to have a dozen different voices babbling in his head.

Lieutenant JG Walter Marsh, trained as a jungle fighter by the same war that turned James into a phaserslinger, patted Corgan on the shoulder, calling his attention. "Sir." He said with concern etched on his face, "It's T'lan. I'm not so sure if she's doing well."

James and Walter came to the female Vulcan Hazard Team member. Implacably Vulcan, she kept a brave front, but the trickles of forehead sweat told another story. She was fresh back on the roster, having sufficiently recovered from a mental attack a few months before. James knew what she went through. It was his traumatic memories of the Battle of Sector 001 (or the second Borg invasion) as a cadet that she experienced.

"Lieutenant?" James asked the Hazard Team's electronics and engineering specialist, "Are you ok?"

T'lan looked earnestly at her commander, "My well being is of no concern. I am physically capable of performing my duties, sir."

Corgan was not so convinced, "Then what is going on, T'lan. You don't look so good."

"Sir." She began to explain, "It is as if a presence has settled itself in this area. It tries to erode and overflow my walls of dicipline, but it is not persistent enough to become a threat."

James was astonished. Was T'lan admitting to feeling anxiety? "I understand. This place is unsettling, and if anyone else doesn't admit it then they're braver or more unaware than I. Let me know if it gets worse, and if it does get in the way of your duties, I'll have Major Rex pick you up."

"Aye, sir." T'lan nodded.

Corran blinked at this reference - possibly Corgan hadn't realized he was accompannying the Hazard Team. Granted it was a bit irregular...

Not to mention, the Trill though, the oppresive sense of doom that was hanging over the place. It already seemed harder to think but Rex was certain that, like so many other things, it was all in his head.

"Sir, with all due respect, I think that's a singularly bad train of thought," Chase said, stepping down out of the cockpit, followed by Major Rex. "This place is probably filled with all kinds of... weird shit. And I don't think we'd be doing ourselves any favors by leaving the Major all by lonesome."

"Hell no." the aforementioned Major shook his head. "I'm brave, not stupid."

~"Oh for f**k sakes, I have to babysit the Major too?"~ Corgan dreaded the idea. Major Corran's presence led to two problems. One was a chain of command of the away mission as twisted as the gordian knot. The other was a slower evacuation time.

Then he looked at T'lan, under the strain of the 'presence'.

James grumbled, "I'm not unsympathetic, Major. Normally, I'd rather have the shuttle loiter around with a pilot inside in order to evacuate us quicker. But... something's not right about this, but I'm missing something you psykers aren't."

Rex elaborated. "I'm sure I'm not the only one feeling it. There's ghosts here, Corgan, and I wouldn't recommend any of us being alone with them. Take it from someone who's been crazy - you don't want something driving you to it."

Corgan smirked. The Major didn't know HIS record very well. "Touche. But we have to drive into it nonetheless. Just keep up, that's all I ask."

Marcus was scanning the room that the team was currently in with his engineering tricorder in one hand and his BR-55 phaser rifle in the other, ready to be brought up at a moment's notice. "Sir, I'm not getting anything out of the ordinary. It seems that what ever happened here was heavy. But for the now, this room is currently in no threat of going to pieces on us." Marcus said to Commander Corgan. "But I'm keeping an eye on my scans just in case, sir."

Marcus was beginning to feel something strange in air, it was like it was gaining weight. But he quickly shook his head to clear it as he focused on the job at hand.

"Well then." James Corgan clutched a rifle from the floor, checking its power supply, "There's some questions. Inside we'll find answers. Hazards... let's go."

"Roger, sir." Marcus said as he tied in his engineering tricorder to his tactical eye-piece, then he placed the tricorder back into it's holster while he brought up his battle rifle to a ready arms position that Church had taught him back on the Hiroshima and kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

The shuttle's rear exit slowly swung open, clanging on the duranium floor as it rested. Light flooded from the shuttle and into the darkened landing area. The team's magnetic boots fell heavily on the floor with a 'whump' noise, mechanical and strong. The forcefield meant to hold vacuum at bay parted just for their environmental suits, giving off an electrical tingle that James felt even on his skin.

They saw devastation all over, made more personal now that they were in it. There was, indeed, a fight for this station, once brand new and high tech, not seemingly a hundred years old in the gloom, the lone gravesight of a battlefield even they didn't know.

Corgan adjusted his darkness optics to see in the lightless areas. In a green haze, unchanged for hundreds of years of Terran night optics evolution, he saw phaser burns, drifting debris, and wreckage everywhere.

"Jesus f**king Christ."

OOC: Takes place just after "What's Beyond Reality..." (Part II)

"What's Beyond Reality - Turn Around" (Part III)

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer (F. Byrne)
1st Lieutenant T'Shani a'Akledorian, CO: SFMC Furies (M. Miller)

****

Turn around and have faith in all the changes Turn around and you will feel No more age of loneliness, you are a part of me

****

Rihannsu Military Research Station, Rel'kessan Star System, 2381

Whatever the Greenblooded {thuurga's} had used on her, it had literally frozen her, midstride. She could see them as they had swarmed in on her, pulling the {chaka} from her frozen hands, like plucking a candy from an infant's small grasp.

She had wanted to kill them all, feel their hot, sticking green blood on her skin and face. The same way her indigo blood had been on *their* faces, so long ago, laughing at her, telling her what they had done to her {thani}, and that they'd do the same to her.

She couldn't move, however.

But she *could* hear.

"Take her,rr to the cells, Centur,rr'ion," a rolling, purring voice called from somewhere far behind her, back down the corridor she had been trying to escape through.

Strange, though, it almost sounded like...

'No, he's dead,' was her last thought before the world went black...

****

Detention Block, Rihannsu Station, Rel'kessan Star System

"Wake up."

She heard the voice, but couldn't move her eyes, they hurt too much.

"Wake up!"

This time, a little louder, a little rougher. Her head lolled from side to side, and she realized that she was in the prone position, but... something was different. She was... *floating*?

"Wake up, you blue *BITCH*!" the voice spat at her, hot in her face. Her eyes still unopened, she heard a quick rustling sound, and then...

**SLAP!**

The sting of the sudden flesh-to-flesh contact snapped her head to the side, the burning, flaring pain spreading across her cheekbone and up the side of her face.

"Centurion! Leave her be." Another voice, this time, far off. Like he was standing off a distance in a deep tunnel. Tish thought she recongnized the voice, the same one that she had heard so long ago, so far away. "So, you thought to visit me again, Tinis? I never thought I'd see your face again."

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to consider what her ears, her mind was telling her; the man whose voice she knew from her nightmares. 'No, it can't be! Thori save me, you can't be *this* cruel!' she cried from within.

"My," he breathed heavily into her ear as he ran a finger down the long, crooked scar across her breasts and stomach, "you have certainly grown."

And then he laughed.

That's how she knew it *was* him, that this wasn't some nightmare she'd eventually awaken from. That hideous, sneering laugh, from deep within his chest, it could only belong to one man. The one man that took everything from her, *EVERYTHING*. He laughed the same way when he had drawn the knife against her young flesh, 15 years ago.

"*Toluk*," she spat the name from her mouth, along with salty blood.

"Yes," he said gleefully. "I see you have not forgotten me, either."

****

Bridge, Deck 1, USS Hellfire

The disruptor fire from the cannons of the Hydran Battlecruiser, Truth and Reconciliation, played across the shields of the USS Hellfire, finally overloading them and sending the ship spinning off course.

Smoke filled the bridge from a near miss, and an shriek of pain cut through the noise. A moment later, the environmental systems sucked the smoke out, leaving the bridge officers coughing from the acrid taste in their mouths. Captain Worthman, recently rescued from the Tal Shiar station, lay slumped in her command chair.

"Damn," Cass swore loudly. He'd been knocked off his feet by the sudden impact, and hit the deck hard. Given the pain rapidly spreading from his right elbow, he'd fallen on it wrong and twisted the arm. Grabbing with his left hand, he managed to pull himself to his feet and survey the situation.

He sucked in breath hard at the sight that lay before him. Brenna Worthman, who had trained and mentored him since the day that he'd set foot on the training grounds of Starfleet Intelligence's advanced school, was injured - how badly he didn't know. She might even be dead. And he didn't have time to spare so much as a moment for her, or their ruthless opponent, Gral N'Fth'Nor would be upon them again.

"Report," Cass said through clenched teeth.

"I'm okay. Helm's responding at 89 percent of full capability," the beautiful Deltan flight controller, Lt. Commander Sanex Ateles'kes, replied immediately, wiping smoke induced tears from her eyes.

[We're at about 76 percent power capacity, Cass,] Lt. Commander Art Blackwelder said from engineering, all seriousness and facts. His rivalry with Cass was laid aside in the name of survival. [Impulse engines can't handle another hit, though. And you know what that means.]

Cass nodded, though Art couldn't see him. "If we take another hit, we're dead in the water. Lemmes, can you add shielding in that area?"

"Shields are at 12 percent, sir," Lieutenant Lemmes chim Grodan, the Tellarite operations manager, grunted from his station next to Ateles'kes. Like the Deltan and Captain Worthman, he was a recently released prisoner of the Tal Shiar. "You could ask me to wrestle a targ and I'd have about the same chance of success. I can barely cover the ship, let alone concentrate anywhere."

"Listen, sugah," Sergeant Major Norra Ridgeway commented, crouched next to Worthman at the cramped Defiant-Class's bridge command chair. "Worthman's not coming to. Ah hope you have somethin' special ta pull outta your ass, Mr. Henderson, because you're in command now."

Cass frowned, considering his options as Ateles'kes dodged another burst of fire from the Hydran ship and Ridgeway carried Worthman off the bridge and down to sickbay.

"Art, old friend, I need to know..." Cass said, getting the spec-ops engineer and theorist's attention. "... What are the chances of us using the Shadow Bringer to switch dimensions?"

[Cassius, hell. First, we don't *switch* anything. We just slide between them. Second, I have no idea what it will do to use it. Without the proper shielding, the metaphasing radiation could melt us all in a instant.]

In the engineering room Art sighed to himself, knowing *why* Cassius was asking the question. It wasn't to escape. No, they could do that easily by jumping to warp. He knew what Cass wanted to do. With firmness in his voice, yet betraying a hint of sadness, he spoke slowly to the room's microphone, "Cass, *she* knew the risks, man. We *cannot* give them a *second* chance to get their hands on this ship again. Novonya made that clear to you!"

"I'm aware of that, Art," Cass replied, trying to keep the edge from his voice. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm going back for her. And that's why we need to remove the Hydrans from the equation. But I can't do that if I can't get close to them."

Cass could hear Art start to protest, and cut him off before he could get a word out. "NO. This isn't a discussion, Art. All I need to hear from you is whether it can be done or not. I'm willing to take the risks."

There was a pause on the comm, followed by a "shit", then, [Fine. Activating Matrix in Five...four...three...two...one...]

Cass turned to the assembled bridge crew. "Brace yourselves," he ordered, unsure of exactly how the transition would take place. He took the time to mark the course and heading of the Hydran ship on his plot, so that they could maneuver for a strike at the ship's dangerously exposed engines.

From outside the ship, space pulled and stretched, like taffy on a cosmic confectioner's wheel. In a great flash, the USS Hellfire seemed to be pulled in all directions, yet staying still at the same time. A moment later, it simply disappeared.

The transition was quick; they didn't have far to go. Once again, time and space merged, the subspace fabric holding them apart dissolving into itself, to produce one tiny, inconsequential-looking Defiant-class starship at the *rear* of the mighty Hydran battlecruiser.

Cassius didn't even have to give the order. He was standing at the tactical console. Depressing the firing button, he cycled through the Hellfire's myriad weapons, triggering all of them. The tough little ship spat death in phaser, torpedo, pulse phaser, and rocket form, directly into the engines of the Truth and Reconciliation.

Hull plating seared and burned away. Power cells exploded under the assault. A moment later, the entire engine bank, looming large in the viewscreen, dimmed, as did every light on the ship. The mighty giant had been laid low.

Cass breathed a sigh of relief before issuing the order that he'd know - despite the inner conflict he'd forced himself to have - he would have to give. After leaving Simone Ovrali on Breen so many years ago, he couldn't leave a team member behind. Never again.

"Lieutenant Commander Ateles'kes, turn us around. We're going back for T'Shani."

****

Detention Block, Rihannsu Station, Rel'kessan Star System

She had finally opened her eyes, only to have them confirm the reality her ears had already heard. It *was* him.

He was shorter than she remembered. But then again, as a twelve year old girl, he had towered over her strapped-down body. Now, he looked... *old*. Like he should have retired far long ago.

"Are you going to tell me, Tinis? Or do this the harder way?" he asked menacingly. His dark eyes danced, the beady pupils looking over her face, looking for all the universe like he *wanted* her to resist, again.

"Fuck you," she tried to raise her head from where it was resting on her naked chest. She succeeded only a little, peering out at him from her one good eye. The other was swollen shut from the earlier scuffle.

He laughed that nasaly, menacing laugh again. "You already have, don't you remember, bitch?" He pulled back from her and spat in her face. "Don't you remember *this*!" he hissed between his teeth as he grabbed her groin, squeezing it painfully. "You enjoyed it, you little bitch. Your mother too."

"You FUCKING BASTARD!!" she yelled at him with all her might. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll rip your thuurgaa'n heart out and slowly gut you like the rotten ghuuna you are!" she screamed again, pulling against the energy binders that held her arms above her, and legs below her, as she floated--stripped bare--in front of her tormentor.

As she strained, Toluk's grin only widened. He started laughing as the guard next to her depressed a button, causing a searing flash of electricty to bolt through her body, sending her into convulsions.

"Now, then. I've someone here that you might like to speak with, Tinis," he turned toward the door.

"Don't call me that," she whispered weakly, still spasming from the shock. "Tinis is dead." She looked up. "YOU killed her."

****

Access Corridor, Rihannsu Station, Rel'kessan Star System

Cass Henderson, despite his better judgment, was back onboard Rel'Kessan Station. The hour between his crippling of N’Fth’Nor’s warship and where he was now, crouched in the darkness of an accessway with Blackwelder and Ridgeway, had flown by. After significant attention by the Hellfire’s EMH Mk. II, Worthman had recovered enough to be proped up in the command chair, sanction the rescue mission, and overrule the complaints of Captain Novonya.

Risking a momentary activation of his wrist light, Cass checked the symbols on the side of the wall, to reorient himself to the map. They were getting closer, almost to the detention block.

It occured to him that something about the whole thing stank. Somehow, the Uhlans had known exactly when they would be coming in for Worthman, and had laid a trap. They'd forced Cass to choose between his mentor and the irritating, yet somehow endearing Andorian woman who'd re-recruited him on the Galaxy. It was like they were maneuvering him.

In fact, the only thing that didn't seem to have gone well for the Rihannsu was his defeat of the ambush in the testing bay and escape with the Hellfire.

And honestly, it should have ended there.

But the guilt had overwhelmed him. Years previously, in 2375, Cass had lost his lover of almost a year on a botched mission on Breen, to try to disable the military neural net that their permanently frostbitten enemies used to coordinate their forces.

And since then he'd found himself unable to leave somebody behind. Especially not young, confident - but inwardly more than a little vulnerable - women. Women who reminded him of Simone Ovrali. And T'Shani A'Akledorian was almost a carbon copy.

So here we was.

"This is a fool's errand, Ca..." Art Blackwelder tried to complain, before a gloved hand covered his mouth.

"Sugah, he's gonna tell ya the same thing he told ya the last thray tahmes," Norra Ridgeway drawled in his ear. "Ah don't think et really beyahs repeatin', does et?"

Blackwelder sighed and shook his head, no.

"Good," Cass said. "Now if you two lovebirds are done, I know which way we need to go. There's a vent system around the detention facility, seperate from the one we used to get in here the first time. It's not on any maps, but it should take us right over the main holding bay if my scan is right."

"This is a bad idea," Blackwelder grumbled, then followed him down the accessway, Ridgeway bringing up the rear.

"Aw, shut it, hon," Nora informed Arthur, while slapping him on the behind to get moving.

****

Detention Block, Rihannsu Station, Rel'kessen Star System

T'Shani tried to lift her head again, tried to see who it was that Toluk thought she'd be interested in speaking to.

From a darkened corner of the room, she could hear a rythmic swishing sound, like a rope being swung side to side in the air. Along with it, a slightly hissing, "tsk"-ing sound; one a disappointed parent might give to a misbehaving child.

Turning her head as far as her restraints would allow her, she peered at the shadowy corner, yet she wasn't able to make out a shape through her hazy, one-eyed vision. But there was something familiar, something about that sound...

"You shouldn't have come, T'Shani, hmmm?"

Tish's head jerked back as she squeezed her eye closed in disbelief. She was talking to a dead man. Dead *cat*.

"Korman," she whispered quietly. Her mind raced at the pronouncement her lips brought forth, the two trains of thought colliding on a one-way track. "But... but, you're... I saw it! I *saw* IT!" she yelled out, her indigo body pulling at the bindings again. Soon she stopped, and dropped her head to her chest again. "You're dead," she muttered.

"YOU'RE DEAD!"

Pushing out of the dark, the Lenaran Caitian stepped into the solitary spotlight that shone on it's lone prisoner. Her antennas sensed his presence first, flexing in front of her. But she didn't dare open her eyes. If it really *was* him, and he was alive, that meant only one possibility.

"Tinis, look at me," he churred softly, moving closer to her.

"No... nooooooooo," she moaned, as her mind overloaded with what this outcome had become. "Why?" she asked in a small voice.

Gently, he reached his palm to her face, wiping away the tear that ran down the side of her face. Just as he had when he'd found her on Seltax, after the raid. 'Seltax... the General... Korman! He's working with Toluk!' her mind screamed at her. But she did nothing, nothing but weep. Everything she had hoped for was now a betrayal. Even Cassius, it seemed. But *that* was duty. No, he'd do what was needed: get the Hellfire out of here and back in the hands of the Red Division.

Would she die? 'Perhaps,' she relinquished to her inner-self. But maybe today truly *was* a good day to die. But one question remained, still.

She opened her eye, and focused it on the Cait'n before her. It *was* him. The brustled black fur, the short nose and wide mawl. The green slit pupils. It was Korman Blackar, savior turned adversary.

"Why?" she repeated. "Why..."

He smiled. Predatory, open lipped, showing the sharp incisors and canines. "Balancing the tables of war, T'Shani."

"For *THEM*?!" she yelled at him, straining again.

"You truly believe they're the enemy, Tish?" he circled around behind her, the came up the side of her, to whisper at her face. "They're still the ghosts in your closet, aren't they?"

"They're thuurga, Korman. You know that. You *know* what they did. And you're no better than any of them, now," she said acidly, her hearts and gut painfully aching at his blatant betrayal. She began to weep. "You *saved* me, Korman! Don't you remember? Doesn't that count for anything? You *saw* Seltax! You saw Chyonis! You saw Helmis' Retreat! WHY!!"

He tilted his head into the light again, the black fur on his ears shining as he flicked them first back, then forward. She knew that motion, he was deciding between something. Then, just as quickly, he moved over to the control panel and pressed a few keys, deactivating the restraining forcefield holding her aloft, but not binding her hands or feet.

Instantly, she fell onto the deck plating, reactively curling into herself as the pain spread across the side of her torso from the impact. The next thing she knew, a blanket was being draped over her naked form, and she was being helped up, to sit up on the decking. Korman kneeled before her, watching as her fingers grasped at the edge of the blanket, trying to pull it around her form.

"There's a bigger battle brewing, T'Shani. One that the Federation won't be able to just walk away with a few scratches from," he informed her, his voice lowering. "Fighting the Romulans will no longer be to our advantage, once this begins."

Her head was throbbing from a double-dose of the injuries she had recieved, and this revelation. "Wha...? What *war*, Korman. Are you mad? Is that what's happened? What does this have to do with your... your *mutiny*."

He stood quickly, then paced over to a wall unit. Deactivating the force-field, he reached inside and withdrew a long, metallic blade covered in runic inscriptions. She recognized it as her chaka.

"I remember when I found you, you had *this*," he hefted the strong blade in his hand, turning it once. "You later told me of how the inscriptions bore the blade's triumphs and victories in battles long past, and how it was passed on, to different generations, for future glories."

None of this was making any sense. If she could only get up, get to her blade in his hands... but she couldn't even start to stand, finding the foot binders had somehow attached themselves to the decking, as if magnetized. "What does this have to do with *this*," she growled.

He rested the tip of the blade on the deck floor, something no cha'vuur would ever do, defile the blade by pointing at the ground, in defeat. "You're gonna need it, Tish. The Quadrant will soon... "

Tish strained to catch what he was saying, but his words were suddenly drowned out by both light and sound, a massive explosion blowing out the service door behind him, the blast knocking both the captive and the traitor momentarily unconcious...

OOC: Takes place just after "What's Beyond Reality..." (Part III)

"What's Beyond Reality - Gravity of Love" (Part IV)

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer (F. Byrne)
1st Lieutenant T'Shani a'Akledorian, CO: SFMC Furies (M. Miller)

****

Turn around,
and smell what you don't see
Close your eyes,
it is so clear
Here's the mirror,
behind there is a screen
On both ways you can get in

Don't think twice before you listen to your heart Follow the trace for a new start What you need and everything you'll feel, is just a question of the deal In the eye of storm you'll see a lonely dove

The experience of survival is the key,
to the gravity of love

****

Detention Block, Rihannsu Station, Rel'kessan Star System, 2381

Cass Henderson was the first out through the blown out jeffries tube access. With the unfamiliar Caitian standing in the middle of the room, he hadn't been able to simply detach the access panel and step out, as he would have liked. Stepping aside to let Blackwelder and Ridgeway out of the J-Tube, he snapped the Federation Sniper Rifle to his shoulder and surveyed the chaos that Blackwelder's IED had created.

His eye were immediately drawn to T'Shani, unconscious on the floor, her body barely covered by the rough military blanket. He wanted to reach out to her and help her to her feet, but he knew that the Uhlans would be there in a moments time, and he had to proceed with precision acts.

"Norra, cover the Caitian. Art, get to work on that forcefield. We need to hold the Romulans off long enough to get her ready to move," Cass said, as the final member of their three man rescue operation tumbled out of the hatch. Assuming that they were heading to their tasks, Cass knelt down next to T'Shani and checked her pulse, steeling himself for the worst. Her neck was warm to the touch, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Her pulse was shallow, but rapid.

"Cass, he's unconcious," Norra shouted over, prodding at Blackar's prone form with the barrel of her rifle.

"That's... Blackar," Tish whispered weakly, holding the binder cuffs out so Cassius could deactivate them. Looking up at him, out of her good eye, she tried to smile, but couldn't. "You came back..."

"Of course I did," Cass replied, affectionately, though he wasn't really sure why. He moved quickly, throwing the binders over to Norra and gathering the blanket around T'Shani. He silently cursed himself for only taking the most basic of medical courses at the Academy. "T'Shani, I need to know if you can walk."

"I think..." tentatively, with Cass's help, she stood up, gaining her footing beneath her, while trying to clutch the blanket around herself. "Cass, he's one of them, I don't know what's... he flipped... the Hellfire... we've got to get it out of..."

"Hey you guys," Norra called from her position over Korman. "I think he's waking..."

**BLAM!!**

An explosion rocked the deck suddenly, knocking them all down. At the same time, shouts in Rihannan, accentuated by the high zinging sound of blaster energy came from the hallway.

"Cassius!" Tish cried out, her gaze drawn to the main security door, just as she noticed Blackar springing up from his position on the floor, and throwing a clawed-punch to Ridgeway.

"Art, where the hell is that forcefield?!" Cass shouted, scrambling back to his feet and grabbing for his rifle. He triggered a three second burst toward where the helmeted Uhlans were charging into the bay, causing them to scatter.

Blackwelder gritted his teeth, as the computer locked him out yet again. Picking up his phaser rifle, he headed ducked behind the console he was working at and returned fire. "It's a *Romulan* computer, Cassius!"

Cass moved to pull T'Shani back toward the access tunnel, but she was already moving, stretching a muscular blue arm to grab her chaka. A near misss from a disruptor burst sent him to cover behind an overturned table. "That's never stopped you in the past! Where's AMIE? I thought she was supposed to be doing this stuff for us?"

"How the hell should I know?" Art shot back, "*You* be over here, trying to hack into Fort Knox!"

Norra, still slightly dazed by Blackar's attack, fell backwards, clutching at her face. Blackar followed, intent on finishing what he had started. Despite her pain, the adrenaline (or Andorian equivalent thereof) flowed freely within her dark blood, pushing past the pain, leaving only fiery anger and focus. She lunged at Blackar, but he was too quick, easily pouncing over her, and landing his feet sideways into Norra's chest, knocking her down and out of breath.

Twisting away from where she had landed, Tish noticed a metallic shine, a meter away. Her chaka! Quickly, she scrabbled forward for it. Just as she was about to reach the hilt, a searing pain shot through her hand, up her arm, and touched every nerve ending in her body. Someone had shot her!

Cass had finally managed to secure decent cover only a moment before he saw T'Shani take the shot to the arm. Focusing his anger at the chaos that was erupting around them into productive energy, he tracked the shooter through the scope of his rife. The uhlan paused midstride for too long and Cassius burned him down where he stood.

As he retargetted on another Uhlan, he noticed a black tricorder clatter to the ground next to the console Art was hiding behind. He locked eyes with his former rival and nodded to the fallen tool. He used his hands to communicate in the sign language they'd both learned at Advanced Intel. ~~Art, what is that thing. I think the Caitian dropped it.~~

Blackwelder reached over and grabbed the device, looking away from his phaser rifle for long enough to give it a one over. While he was doing it, Cass took the opportunity to drop another Uhlan. Art caught his eyes, looking suddenly pale. ~~This is a slave control box. He's using it to control AMIE. I think I can reverse it.~~

~~Do it,~~ Cass signed back, then returned to his firing, trying not to hit any of the three members of the scuffle that was taking place between them.

A moment later, Blackwelder was shouting triumphantly. "Hah! I've done it." A forcefield flashed into place in front of the detention block, cutting off the Rihannsu advance.

On their TEDDs, AMIE began to transmit information again. [Systems restored,] came her calm voice. In the nanosecond it took for her to survey her own code, purge the duplicate 'bad' copies, and take in the situation unfolding, she had already sent an escape proposal to Cass's TEDD.

"Thank you," Cass whispered, then stood up, looking for a way to help T'Shani and Norra with Blackar. An idea passed through his mind a moment later. "Can you trigger the self destruct on the station?"

In his earpiece, AMIE's voice replied immediately, [Ten minutes... Mark].

Tish was momentarily distracted as her implanted TEDD came back online. For all the negative feelings she had harbored for Arthur Blackwelder, this one instance erased all that. With AMIE back online, they had a chance. [Clearing a path to the Hellfire] Tish heard the AI through the audio implant.

However, she had more pressing matters.

"Korman, you son of a thiich!" she yelled at him, pulling herself to a standing position, while picking up the blade with her uninjured arm, the other oozing dark purple blood over the disruptor-charred flesh.

Blackar, for his part, remained unscathed, turning back to Tish after he had kicked Norra out of the way again, and picked up her M-90 assault rifle. "Drop it, Tinis! Drop it, or you die!" he snarled at her.

"Thook you, Korman!" she screamed back, while pulling back the pommel of the chaka with her good arm, slinging it forward, and letting it loose, flying in an arc at the man she had once respected, admired... loved.

There are moments in life that seem to happen in slow motion. Time stops for moments like these. Cass watched as T'Shani drew back her arm and, with a degree of expertise that only a true grandmaster could muster with as grievous an injury as she had suffered, hurled the blade into Korman Blackar's chest, sending a spray of dark red blood shooting out from his back.

Nobody in the room seemed to believe what had just happened, least of all T'Shani a'Akledorian and Korman Blackar.

The big felinoid took another step toward the now disarmed Andorian, before crumpling to the deck in a pool of his own blood.

And as quickly as it happened, it was over, and time returned to normal. "Okay everyone, let's get the frak out of here," Cass shouted, directing everyone back the way they'd come. True to form, Arthur Blackwelder was the first to go.

T'Shani was left standing in the middle of the room, trying to wrench her chaka from Korman Blackar's dying chest. With only one arm, this wasn't an easy proposition. She needed help, and Cass was more than willing to provide it. Stepping over beside her, he placed his hands over her good hand, and together they wrenched the blade free. In that moment, their eyes locked, and he nodded.

They'd earned each other's respect, maybe more.

He helped her limp over to the hole in the wall, and followed her in, expecting Master Sergeant Ridgeway to bring up the rear. He didn't even notice when Korman Blackar stirred on the floor, tightening his claws around the M-90.

**CLICK!**

Again, timed slowed as Norra Ridgeway heard the sound of the weapon's safe being unlocked. Though she was running at the dying Cait'n, she felt as if she were walking against water, or the thick southern molasess her granfather used to make. "Tish, MOOOOOOOOVE!" she screamed as she dived on top of the rifle, putting her body directly between it and the away team.

**BOOM!!**

"NOOOOOOOO!" The scream was from Arthur, who had heard Norra's cry as he ducked back into the escape tube. "Norra!" he cried out, pushing Cassius to the ground as he scrabbled toward her.

Or, rather, what was left of her.

The assault rifle, at point-blank range, had completely disemboweled her, killing her instantly. Beside her, Korman gasped, lurched violently, then went limp, his head lolling to the side.

"Noooo! Nononononononooooooo!" Blackwelder wailed, pulling Norra's broken body to his, the blood covering his uniform, the floor, *everything*. He held back any tears, only pain and anguish flaring his face as he gently rocked her in his arms.

Her life for thiers. Tish bowed her head for a moment, as time began picking up pace again.

"Arthur, we don't have time," Cass could be heard yelling, slipping back away from her as he tried to go back through to pull his old rival away, to safety.

The Uhlans could be heard blowing through the walls to bypass his forcefields, charging out swinging their truncheons.

And time receded, slowly fading to black.

****

The Present: Mirusa VI

As twice before, T'Shani and Cassius were released from the memory, leaving each breathless. Tish moreso, it seemed. She had curled herself into a fetal ball, rocking slowly with her arms wrapped around her, like the memory had been too much, just too much to handle.

In a way, it had been. What a horrendous day that had been. What a horrendous mission. Not only had she encountered Toluk again, but she had found out that her rescuer, her mentor, her one safety, Korman, had betrayed the Federation. It had been her hand that had killed him.

Though this time around, however painfull, was somewhat illuminating: she had experience it from Cassius's perspective, as well. She could feel what he felt, that loving kindness, sterling charachter. And he knew of how she felt for him, more deeply now than ever.

"You saved me, Cassius. No one else has ever done that. Now you understand what that means to me," she whispered/thought all at once, trying to see his face in the dim light.

"I wouldn't be me if I hadn't," he said/thought back to her, nodding his head. His chest rose and fell rapidly, heart rate up from the intensity of the vision they'd just experienced. "And for what it's worth... for what it cost to go back... for all of our arguements and differences... I'm still glad I did it."

Tish wanted to say a million things to him, right then. Think a million things. Her thanks, her gratitude. He had *saved* her from certain death. He was, in a way, a hero to her. As well as a love. And she knew that *now*, maybe he could understand. Closely, she watched his face as she turned the careful feelings in her heart, like she was delicately revealing something precious from under a velvet blanket.

Gently, she released his hand from between them, and pressed her body closer to him. Her hand moved up his arm, his shoulder, and finally rested open-palmed on the side of his face. Arching her antennas so far forward that they touched his forehead, she stared into his eyes. Those big, beautiful brown eyes that held so much compassion, and so much strength. She could feel his short breaths on her skin, her lips mere millimeters from his. Slowly, she moved closer, sighing as she felt his arm coming to rest on her side.

"Cassius..." she mumbled, wanting to say so much, but not finding any words - Andorian or Standard - that could describe the explosion of feelings from deep within her core.

Cass completely unprepared for the *tidal wave* of different, and mixed, emotions that issued forth from the very depths of her soul, surging through him like a flash flood. And while his mind wasn't able to sort out just which natural weather phenomenon it was most like, it could easily wrap itself around one fact at the core of it all.

T'Shani a'Akledorian *loved* him, *wanted* him, and *needed* him to understand. As her antennas brushed his forehead, he finally began to understand on a much less superficial level than he had how much it meant to her.

And as loyal a person as he was, his first instinct was to give in. They'd been through so much together, and shared so common a bond, that his thoughts of Ekoma Janx - who he was still only beginning to know, were nowhere to be found - buried betneath the strange tangle of emotions that consituted her love.

He began to lean in, to let their lips finally connect...

~THE NATURAL CONCLUSION OF THIS PROGRESSION,~ the Nerru Guardian thundered in their minds, causing them to leap apart like a pair of school children who'd caught kissing behind the bleechers at school. ~YOU HAVE PASSED THE TEST OF PROGRESS, LEARNED THE LESSONS OF THE SOUL, AND CONNECTED AS NO OTHERS. TRULY YOU ARE PARAGONS OF THE UNLIMITED ABILITY OF YOUR FEDERATION TO CHANGE.~

Cass looked over at T'Shani and shrugged, slightly embarrased both at his reaction, and by what they'd been about to do.

Tish simply closed her eyes, releasing her grip on Cassius out of both relief and (mostly) disappointment.

~AND NOW, FOR YOUR PERSISTENCE AND RESOLVE, THE FIRST REWARD!~

Suddenly, the room was filled with light, and their minds once again were transported into timelessness...

"The world in my eyes"

2nd Lt Baile - recon mission specialist
CO 2nd Platoon, red team
Corporal Vosak
2nd Platoon, CO Fire Team Bravo

USS GALAXY

Darkness. Darkness can end in many different ways. Light, sounds, touch - any multitude of sensations can, if not remove it completely, make it a little bit brighter. The sensation that cut through the darkness in Baile was pain.

Somewhere deep down in the darkness it begun as a slight throb, not even noticeable. But instead of building up it skipped passed Jail entirely and went straight for Go.

The basic principle for a volcano is simple. Two masses grinds against each other, building up pressure and heat. You take enough heat and pressure and you get an expanding mass. Now normally its not that much of a problem. It happens all the time and most of the time nothing ever happens. Most of the time. But build up enough pressure and heat, combine it with superheated gas, molten stone and the laws of nature you pretty soon reach a critical mass.

Nature is quite an ingenious thing. It has one simple solution to get rid of the pain. So much like ships vents plasma, planets vents gas, molten rock and whatever else that has gotten stuck in the process. Natures version of passing wind or a giant zit.

Baile's first reaction was that of a soldier. His hand grabbed the gun from the holster and aimed at the darkness around him. All he could hear was the thunderous beating of his own heart and the storm that was his breathing. Where the hell was he? It took him a few seconds to get his bearings again, but once he did he only got more confused.

He was back on the Galaxy. In his own quarters. How the hell had he gotten there? Last thing he remembered was heading down a corridor to check up on a reading. He grunted as he tried to get up. Someone or something had used his body as a punchingbag. For days it felt like.

It took some effort, but he managed to get rid off the backpack. He took off the hat he wore and scratched his face. His rubbed his eyes and was awarded by a nasty pain. He blinked several times. It felt like he had sand in his eyes. "Computer.. lights.." Baile mumbled and dropped down to his back again.

Sometimes darkness is preferable.

In Baile's case the volcano erupted in his head. He sat up, trying to scream in pain, but his lungs held no air to power his voice with. Heavily he fell back on the ground, floor or where ever the hell he was. Baile had no idea and at the moment he didn't really care. Truth be told he couldn't even think straight enough to decide he didn't care.

Yet the pain in his head was nothing compared to the pain in his eyes. His eyes felt like they were literally on fire. Baile covered his eyes from the light, trying to shield them, but the light still cut through. It was as if the pupils wouldn't close.

"Kill... the.. fucking.. lights.. " he panted. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, wanting to get away from the light.

"Unable to comply. Please rephrase." Baile had never hated the artifical voice more in his entire life.

He banged his hand against the floor as hard as he could. Maybe that new pain would take away some from his head.

It didn't.

He took a few deep breaths, hoping to clear the spasms in his body. He was sweating profoundly, even though only a few seconds had passed. "Computer.. turn.. off.. the... lights.." Baile whispered as every nerve in his body decided to let him now he was in pain. The effort wasn't really appriciated by the nearly incapacitated marine.

The pain vanished almost as quickly as it had started. He dropped back on the floor, panting heavily for several minutes, trying to catch his breath.

What the hell was happening?

The pounding in his head continued, but the rythm got more regular and seemed to slow down. It took him a few minutes to realise it was his own pulse he was hearing. Baile groaned as he rolled over on his back to try getting back to his feet. The blood rushing down his throat took him by surprise and he started coughing. He sat up, alerting the headache that he was ready for round two. Willing to comply it started pounding him again.

The blood was pouring down from his nose in a way that made him suspect the nose was broken, yet he knew it wasn't. That nose had been broken enough times for him to recognise the feeling. He wiped the nose with the back of his hand, smearing the red fluid all over his hand.

Irritated he stuffed his hand down one of the legpockets and pulled out a firstaid bandage. He bit off the seal while the blood dripped, or rather ran down his hand. Nosebleeds he could handle. Head wanting to explode when the lights came on he couldn't. With the help of the knife he cut the bandage into straps which he rolled into small balls and stuffed them up the nostrils. That would take care of the bleeding for the time being.

He stumbled into the tiny bathroom and spat blood in the sink, running his finger along the teeth to check if they we still in place. He had been kicked in the face a few times with less pain as a result than what he was feeling now. Splashing some water on his face he looked up in the mirror. Not a single bruise, but he still looked like shit, as if he had been in the field for weeks.

Baile leaned heavily against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. "What the fuck is going on?" he whispered with just as much confusion and anger in his voice. With some effort he took the sidearm from the holster and looked at it. It had been fired recently. A lot. He clicked the release and caught the clip with the other hand. Baile marked all of his clips to keep a rough track on how many clips he had left.

Three.

Clip three. Less than ten shots left in it. What ever had happened had involved a serious firefight. Grimacing from the pain in his head he slapped the clip back into the gun and holstered it. He sat down for a few minutes, hoping the throbbing in his head would go away.

Baile tried to take off the t-shirt he was wearing. It was torn in places and as dirty as a drillsergeants mind. Suddenly the irritation became too much to handle and he tore the t-shirt to pieces. Disgusted he tossed it into the next room and got back on his feet.

The marine cursed silently. His body hadn't been that exhausted in years. Just walking up to his backpack felt like running ten miles. Crouching down he began going through the backpack. A lot of things were missing. Like supplies. He had brought the standard one week of c-rations and now there was only two days left. Had he been gone for five fucking days?! The first aid kit was nearly empty, the spare clips for the assaultrifle was gone and the two mines he had carried was gone as well. "Someone better tell me what the hell is going on.." he mumbled to himself and tossed the bag aside.

The doorchime chirped and opened as Baile turned his head. New light flowed into the room and the volcano in Baile's mind erupted once more. He gritted his teeth and growled, covering his eyes with his arm. The drums started beating inside his head again, forcing Baile down on his knees.

Somewhere in the distance Baile could make out a voice, but it was too distorted to be understood. Something touched his shoulder and Baile's reactions took over. His hand flew out and closed around what felt like a wrist. Or at least he hoped it was a wrist. Tentacles wasn't really his thing. Normally if something had tentacles he just shot it. Grabbing them wasn't really his way of dealing with them.

Forcefully he twisted the wrist and pulled downwards while sweeping one of his legs along the floor. The result was what he had hoped for. He hit something and knocked, whatever or who ever it was down to the ground. Keeping a firm hold on the wrist he moved over to a scissorshold with the help of his legs. The hold was as sudden as it was perfect. Left leg over the throat, the opponents right arm between his legs, resting on his thigh and the right leg underneath the opponents back, locking against the left one. Blinded and in pain, Baile locked up the arm of the opponent and bent it backwards. He could hold a furious Klingon in that hold for a day or two.

By pushing the arm down, in the opposite direction of the elbow the opponent had to arch his back, which in turn gave Baile more room to manouvre. He tugged at it hard, keeping it straight. It was one of the easiest ways to break an opponents elbow there was and extremely painful even if the elbow was left intact.

Satsified with the hold, Baile used is free hand to pull his sidearm and placed it to the side of the ribcage on the opponent. If he pulled the trigger he would take out the lower part of the lungs and most of the heart - providing the opponent was human. "You pissed off the wrong marine, punk.. "

"Sir.. " a very distressed voice began, but it wasn't easy to speak. It didn't matter that he was much stronger than the human since Baile could snap his neck at a whim or just shoot him. But the el-tee wasn't fooling around. The leghold was harder than any he had ever felt during training and he had to do everything he could just to be able to breathe. "Lieutenant.." he croaked. "It's me... Vosak.. "

Vosak. The name felt familiar, but the pain made it hard to think. Then the door closed and darkness settled down in the room again. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come.

The half Romulan and half Vulcan assessed the situation as dangerous. The Lieutenant had been missing ever since the teams entered deep into the tunnels and here he was. No shuttle or transport had reported taking him back onboard the Galaxy. As far as the Marines saw it he was MIA. Yet, here he was, on the verge of breaking Vosak's neck. Not good indeed.

Suddenly Baile let go and pushed Vosak away from him and got back up on his feet, the sidearm expertly trained at the halfbreed. "Stay where you are, Corporal and tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Once more Vosak assessed the situation. Trying to disarm the Lieutenant would not succeed. The Lieutenant held the both tactical and strategic advantage. Logic and guts both came to the conclusion that Baile would kill him before he was even close to disarming the Lieutenant. And even if he did succeed the fact remained that the Lieutenant was just as dangerous without the sidearm. And having a monster of a headache didn't exactly put him in pole position.

"I said tell me what the fuck is going on!" Baile's grip on the gun became firmer as if the stress pushed his reactions and instincts into a soldier mode. His arms were relaxed just enough to handle the recoil, but still he still held the gun firmly enough to allow for rapid movement.

Vosak held his arms where Baile could see them. There was no doubt in his mind that the human was very confused, possibly under mental influence and thus capable of shooting him without hesitation. "I wish I could, Lieutenant. I really do." He took a deep breath to clear his mind. The damn headache was definately getting worse.

"Then say what you can, Corporal."

Something was different with the human, but Vosak couldn't put his finger on it. "The mis.. " he began, but had to stop as the pain in his head increased. He took a deep breath. "The mission.. " he had to stop again. Vosak couldn't really see Baile's face in the darkness, but he could feel the human growing impatient. The pressure in his head grew, bordering unbearable. "The Hydrans.. we.. "

Baile looked at Vosak, seeing the sweat break out on Vosak's forehead. "You ok, Bubba?" he asked and watched Vosak close. The halfbreed looked anything but well.

Shaking his head Vosak took another deep breath. "No sir. It seems I have.. " he paused for a second, ".. developed quite the headache for... " the throbbing made him stop yet one more time, "... for reasons unknown to me." With those words Vosak's eyes rolled and he collapsed to the floor.

As soon as Vosak hit the floor Baile holstered the gun and walked over to the unconscious halfbreed. Checking the pulse Baile sighed. "Great.. " The drums in Baile's mind had muted to a acceptable level and he moved his hand to tap the commbadge only to realise he had no idea where it was. Annoyed he grabbed a fresh t-shirt from the wardrobe and put it on with some effort.

Somehow his eyes didn't react well with light. He had figured out as much, but ships like this didn't have many dark places, or rather they did, but not where he needed them. Grabbing his worn hat he searched the backpack until he found the sunglasses he always carried with him. He wasn't sure if it was enough, but it was better than feeling his eyes burn up again.

Grabbing Vosak's arm he hoised the halfbreed up on his shoulders. He nearly dropped him as the pain shot through his body. "You owe me for this.. " the human grumbled and shifted Vosak into a better position. Getting Vosak to sickbay was the only thing he could do. Halfbreeds like Vosak didn't pass out from a simple headache. They just didn't. Besides maybe the docs could tell him what the hell had happened to his eyes and why there was full brigade of drummers throwing a party in his head.

"Exploring the Ashes, part 4" or "Psychosis"

Ensign Kiel Counselor, USS Galaxy
& Lieutenant Kettch Vanguard Squadron Flight Officer (PCC of Pat's abused with his permission)

Location: USS Argo, adrift in the debris field
Soundtrack: Too Late (instrumental reprise) by No Doubt

* * * * * * *

"Standby, Galaxy."

Pausing the open communications channel, the large, dark eyes of the Kowe flight officer watched as the doors to the derelict Nova-class starship began to open on their own. Slowly retracting until Kettch could clearly make out the damaged shuttlebay, it's flight deck in a state of disrepair that was obvious even from the cockpit of the Vanguard starfighter. And still no indication of anything alive moving inside the ship. To include the counselor.

["Vanguard Ten, report."]

"The shuttlebay just opened," the Kowe stated, allowing the awe to trickle into his voice as he spoke over the comm, his furred paw drumming over the console in front of him as the dimunituve, furry pilot weighted the options in front of him. "Still no contact with Ensign Kiel," he added after a moment. That was bothering him. No contact. No sign of his tracer. The Argo was a literal dead zone. Going inside was not without risk, though just what the risks were was part of the mystery in front of them. What had happened to this ship? And what was going on inside of her now?

"I am proceeding inside," the Kowe reported quietly, easing the starfighter ahead as the fuzzy flight officer began making the necessary adjustment to the x-axis and pitch in order to align the fighter with the launch bay deck. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about this.

* * * * * * *

The young El-Aurian yelped breathlessly, jerking himself up so that he was sitting bolt-upright. Or, presumably so anyway. As reality began to set in, the boy realized that he was in some kind of closet or compartment. And that it was pitch black dark, so that he couldn't see anything. This felt the nature of his arrest in quarters to some conjecture, as the youth began to feel out the terms of his confinement. Again, presumably so. However, that he was awake and breathing was indisputable, and whoever had shot him could certainly have killed him instead. Either before or afterward.

So the fact that he was still alive had to be part of some kind conscious thought process on the part of his assailant/captor. Assuming that he was a prisoner. Kiel could sense the walls close around. Space about the size of a closet. No definitive exit. Sure seemed like a prison to him, so the boy supposed that he was, indeed, in confinement. Which would indicate that either the assailant wanted something from him or that his assailant had a problem with their conscious. The latter of which was preferred.

His hands and arms seemed to have been bound behind his back, as the young El-Aurian struggled against the bonds secure around his wrist and forearms. Whatever had been used to bind him, it was bulky. Probably his uniform jacket. Remarkably, his legs had been left free, the boy kicking and pawing with his heels to try and steady himself upright. This was beginning to feel like the Kobiyashi-maru scenario all over again. Unfortunately, this go-round it was for real.

As the slender El-Aurian began to shift around, he began to realize how odd the floor beneath him felt. Rather, it obviously wasn't a floor. He was seated on... something. Gently padding around with his hands, the boy began to investigate the questionable nature of this support. Carefully. Sticking one's hand out into the darkness, having no idea of just what was there... that could get nasty. And, sure enough, it did.

It dawned on him that he wasn't seated on one thing, but a stack of flat, oddly arranged objects stacked together. And it wasn't more than a second later that he realized those objects had limbs. He could feel uniform fibers. Legs. Hands. The face of the corpse that he was sitting upon. Naseau washed over him, driving the youth to tears as the weight of his reality threatened to overcome his senses. Yet, somehow, Kiel managed to force it all back. Push everything down. Set it aside for -after- he got the hell out of here. He could deal with it after he was back on the Galaxy. Right now, he was in a bad situation. And he needed to get out of it.

The person who'd placed him in the closet had most likely also stacked the bodies in there as well, which added a rather sobering idea to his earlier thoughts. That the person who'd shot him had merely been sloppy. Not realized the phaser was on stun. Failed to notice that he'd still been breathing. Though, if his assailant had managed to kill the ten or twelve bodies that were stacked inside the closet with him, then that kind of serial murderer shouldn't have had any problem making those distinctions.

Placing his palms flat against the wall, Kiel tried to feel out the borders of his prison. Paying close attention to the contours of the walls. This had to be a closet on the Argo. Which meant that there would be a standard Starfleet access panel on the inside, to the right of the door. It was a closet, not a brig. And, in order to keep personnel from locking themselves in this kind of situation, most storage closets were designed to override the exterior lock when released from the inside. That lesson hadn't come from the Ferengi. It'd been a bit of real life experience that he'd learned in the girl's dorms at the Academy.

At last, the youth felt the depression where the two door panels met together in the middle, feeling down the right side of that seam until his fingertips brushed over the access panel. The closet sprang open with a muted 'snap-hiss'. Embracing freedom, Kiel nearly collapsed to his knees as he emerged from out of the closet with a loud gasp for air. Not even realizing that he'd been holding his breath before. Stumbling out several steps, the disheveled youth ran an anxious hand through his shock of blond hair, shuddering with a breath of exasperation. Already Starfleet was turning out to be a little different of an experience than he had been anticipating.

"Enjoy your nap, kid?"

The voice caught him by surprise, not that anything about it was all that odd. It was male. Most likely a young adult. Very soft. Level, but with a hint of amusement. Kiel had jumped at the sound, illiciting a chuckle from the shadowy figure that was bent over a cylindrical, dark object. As the boy's eyes adjusted to the faint lighting, he began to identify his surroundings. He was in what must have been the torpedo launch bay, and he'd been stuffed in what must have been an auxilliary storage compartment. The man who'd spoken, the only other person in the room, was a yellow-shirted lieutenant. A Benzite. Thin whiskers hung down from the corner of the blue-skinned officer's mouth.

"Not as much as my bunk mates," the youth answered, wetting his lips in a subscious, nervous move after he had spoken. He tried to keep his voice quiet. Level. To not betray the fact that he'd been sufficiently wierded out and wasn't quite sure what to expect next. A second ticked by like hours. His eyes shifting from side to side in silent contemplation of what to do next, the youth at last found the courage to inquire, "How did those people get in there?"

"I put them there, of course," the Benzite replied casually, as though they had been talking about putting away an engineering tool. Reaching over to one side, the lieutenant held up a phaser in a loose, limp grip. He was obviously showing off the fact that he was armed, though it didn't appear that he intended to wield the weapon right away. Still, after having just been shot, the sight of the phaser alone was enough to make Kiel jerk back slightly. "It seemed wrong to just leave them piled around in the hallway," the Benzite added, seemingly as an aside before looking up at the youth.

"Have a seat over there, where I can see you," the lieutenant instructed firmly, waving toward a corner of the torpedo bay with the phaser in his hand. Nodding stiffly, the El-Aurian took several steps backwards, sliding over in the indicated direction without ever taking his eyes off of the survivor before him. The lieutenant appeared to be modifying a torpedo of some kind. Kiel really wasn't all that great at identifying the different classes or configurations, but he had every idea that the man was preparing to launch the device. But at what? And why? What was he hoping to accomplish?

"I'm Counselor Kiel from the Federation starship Galaxy," the boy stated politely, sliding back against the wall as he lowered himself to a seated position on the deck, his legs crossed before him in what was known as 'indian style'. It seemed a non-aggressive position. He'd try that and see if it did anything to ease his captor. The man had to have suvived a terrible ordeal.

"You don't really expect me to believe that," the Benzite remarked in a matter-of-fact tone, as the lieutenant casually set his phaser aside, picking up an engineering tool off the work table beside the torpedo device.

"What reason do you have to doubt it," the young counselor countered. Gently. Posing the question in a polite, open fashion as the fair-haired boy craned his head back to look up into the face of the disheveled officer before him.

"What reason did your 'starship Galaxy' have for attacking us, hmm, Counselor," the blue-skinned lieutenant retorted in a snide sort of quip. A ready retort. Anger highlighting his voice. And something else as well. Something dark. Something that made the man dangerous. Either to himself or others. Or both.

Whatever it was, Kiel couldn't be certain. It was simply something he knew in the core of his very being. Something that came with being a 'listener'. The Benzite had in mind to do something terrible. Certainly there seemed some circumstantial evidence to support that line of thought. And, whatever the man had been through, it was clear he blamed the Galaxy for the ordeal. "I'd like to talk about that, actually," the boy offered softly, honestly. He needed to understand what had happened to this man. This ship. It's crew. And the person with the answers to those questions was waving phasers around and playing with warheads.

Yeah, when this was over, Kiel would be scheduling a counseling session for himself. "But it would help if I could have your name, lieutenant," the youth added smoothly, in a more conversational tone.

The reply was a long, dark glare from the Benzite. Eyes like daggers focused on the boy for several silent seconds before the lieutenant returned to his work on the torpedo. Okay, obviously names were a taboo topic. Maybe he should have tried asking about the weather instead. Cold, empty vacuum. But hey, no humidity right?

"The Galaxy just arrived here," the youth assured the lieutenant quietly. "We don't know who attacked your ship or what happened, but I'd like it if you'd tell me," he explained gently, feeling a bead of sweat building over his left eye. "We're here to help you, not to harm you."

Dropping the tool, the Benzite lieutenant deftly snatched up the phaser from the top of the work table, a trilling chirp sounding as the man keyed up the power setting and fired the weapon. Kiel winced as a burst of heat slammed into the wall about four inches from his head, blinking as a shower of sparks sprang in front of his face. Struggling to clear the light spots from his field of vision, the young counselor looked up at the lieutenant, who had the phaser leveled at him squarely.

"Next one's headed between your legs. Now SHUT UP," the man barked harshly. A vein was twitching visible against his bald, blue scalp. Exhaling softly, Kiel clicked his tongue against the side of his mouth as he merely quirked his eyebrows in response. The lieutenant was obviously unbalanced, and with that temper he was likely to unravel fast if he became spun up. Also apparent was the fact that he was going to be unreceptive to anything that Kiel had to say contrary to his idea that the Galaxy had attacked the Argo.

Another minute or so passed in silence. A stillness that was finally broken when the man reached behind himself to key a monitor along the wall. The lieutenant had the internal sensors tracking someone else on the ship. "Your fighter pilot friend," the lieutenant stated flatly, pausing long enough to confirm the Kowe's position before returning to his work on the torpedo.

That Kettch was here was something of a relief. Not that Kiel had any way of communicating with the Kowe, but it was a relief nonetheless. "Arn't you worried he'll find his way here," Kiel asked, resuming his soft, resigned voice from earlier, as if to say 'I'm beaten. You win'.

"He's chasing sensor ghosts looking for your comm badge signal," the lieutenant answered casually. "He'll be looking out over what's left of the bridge before he realizes you're not up there," the man explained, with what seemed like an exaggerated patience as he held up a silver, V-shaped device in his wide, blue palm.

"You... you get to sit there and watch me launch this at your ship," the Benzite informed the boy in a sharp, firm tone. "Do you know what this is," he asked snidely, Kiel allowed silence to pass in answer. Obviously the man was going to tell him regardless, so that negated any need to humor the lieutenant with a reply. "It's a tri-cobalt device that I'm going to wire into the photon detonator, producing an explosive yield of ten -thousand- megatons. Then I've even modified the torpedo casing to emit chroniton particles," he boasted with a broad smirk of self-satisfaction.

"Even if they raise their shields, the temporal variance will breeze RIGHT through'em," the Benzite mused darkly, a brief smile illuminating the shadows across his aquarian features as he regarded the young El-Aurian with a look of mad determination. He was convicted upon this course that he had set himself, and Kiel wasn't certain he could sway him from the dark path he'd constructed.

"Then I... sail away, in that starfighter your friend parked for me in the shuttlebay," he added with a feigned, casual shrug. At this point, it seemed that the man was talking just to hear his own voice. No telling how long he'd been alone on the derelict starship. How long he'd been looking for an entity upon which to cast the blame. An opponent upon which to extract his warped justice.

Yeah, this away mission had definately gone south.

"Voices Unheard, Visions Unseen"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering officer

*** Counseling offices, Deck 14 ***

Alone in the dark, Counselor Elessidil sat on the floor of his office, legs folded in a meditative position. Unfortunately, his legs were the only thing that was meditative about him at the moment.

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to sufficiently centre himself, a vain attempt at escaping the headache that only seemed to get worse over the past hour. He'd heard the mysterious telepathic voice again at least twice, long since losing count as his responses continued to go unanswered. And as if the headache weren't enough, every joint from head to toe continued to feel stiff and sore. The intermittent waves of nausea weren't helping either.

Finally surrendering the realization that a meditative state was likely only to continue eluding him, he got up -- as quickly as his seemingly arthritic joints would allow. Though his concern for his own physical health had grown considerably since he awoke earlier from his unexpected slumber, it was the telepathic voice he had heard that was more disconcerting. Someone, somewhere, needed help, but how could he find her? A visit to sickbay was going to have to wait for the moment -- there was something else he had to do.

Pulling up the ship's personnel files, Brian limited the results only to other telepaths onboard. Surely if he'd heard that voice, someone else did too. Glancing through the list, the first name his eyes landed on was that of another Betazoid, Lt. Dhanishta Eshe. On second look, her file indicated she was actually only half Betazoid; it was quite possible she wouldn't have been able to hear the telepathic message. It didn't matter. With his head feeling like it was going to explode, there was no way he could focus on the list of names. Requesting Lt. Eshe's location from the computer, Elessidil left the relatively comfortable confines of his office and braving the assault of almost blinding light from the corridor beyond, headed for the nearest turbolift.

Dhanishta was actually on her way to the counselling offices. There was so much talking to be done to satisfy everyone on what had happened. But the good thing was she was allowed to get to work while all the paperwork was being sorted out; it gave her something to focus on and something to do. But the memories just kept popping up like jack in the boxes!

The situation on the ship also made her pensive. Since coming back she had met with everyone she had to. Good start. Though she still hadn't managed to unpack, and she was sure that Michael would whinge at her soon for all the cargo crates she had left everywhere!

But that was the least of her worries. Since the ship had some in to the vicinity of Deep Space 5, pretty much every telepath on the ship had been ill. Kio had told her of all the symptoms of her patients, what they were feeling and going through, etc. Kio wouldn't admit it but she was worried. It was only a matter of time until she was affected by it. But what made Dhani more concerned was that so far she felt fine.

As the turbo lift doors opened she almost walked into another officer. He didn't look so good. Grabbing his shoulders she steadied the man and looked into his eyes, "Are you alright?" she questioned, concerned.

Brian stopped, looking at the woman who seemed almost to appear out of nowhere. He didn't know her personally, but he recognized the face. ~You're Lieutenant Eshe?~ he asked, communicating telepathically as another verification that this was the person he was looking for.

"Yes I am," Dhani replied out loud, nodding. She searched the man's face again; he really didn't look good. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked.

~I'm fine, Lieutenant. I'm fine . . . just a headache,~ he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose again. ~I want to know if you heard someone, a woman, I don't know who or where she was, but she was asking for help. She was communicating telepathically and I'm trying to see if anyone else heard her.~ He looked at her, hoping not only that she wouldn't think he was crazy, but even more that maybe she had indeed picked up the anonymous woman's communication.

Dhanishta took the man by the arm and lead him back to his office. "I think you're far from fine. I should be taking you to sick bay." She said as the door opened. Sitting the man down she went to the replicator and ordered some water.

"Here," she handed it to him, "drink this and maybe start again. About the voice?" she probed.

With a sigh, Brian took the glass but didn't drink from it. It was apparent to him from Eshe's reaction that she hadn't heard the voice. "Female. She's been telepathically asking for help -- 'Please help me, I'm still here, help me', she keeps repeating," he said, speaking out loud now. "You haven't heard it." It was more of a statement than a question, reflecting his frustration.

Dhani shook her head, "No I haven't heard it. But then I have more mental blocks than the rest of the telepaths on board, it seems," she replied.

She looked out the window for a moment. She knew there was something out there, something that she didn't want to let in. She could help him though; she could lower her walls and search for the voice, but in doing that she would let herself be open to what the rest of the crew were feeling. And after what happened with Suder, she wasn't prepared to let that happen. She had just found out how nice it was to be alone in her mind.

"Don't, Lieutenant," Brian said, looking at Eshe and reading her thoughts. He closed his eyes and held the bridge of his nose again. "I don't know what's going on with me, but if there's any chance that voice or some other kind of telepathic phenomenon has anything to do with it, you should keep yourself as isolated from it as possible. Consider yourself fortunate that you possess a higher natural shielding than most of us."

"I wasn't always this strong," she commented, reflecting on what had happened with Suder. "I was trained well, and so I guess its all coming back to me. I can let my guard down and scan for this voice. I'm sure…"

"That's an order, Lieutenant!" he harshly responded. Pausing to regain some self-control, Brian wasn't sure if it was the headache, his frustration at not being able to determine the source of the voice, or something else that was making him a little more irritable than usual. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to snap at you. But until we have a better idea of what's going on, you shouldn't do anything that could potentially put yourself at risk," the counsellor advised, closing his eyes and holding the bridge of his nose again in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure that continued to build.

Dhani was shocked slightly into staying silent for some time. But at the end of the day she was glad he stopped her. After what happened with Suder she didn't want to be taken over or whatever, ever again. She had fine tuned her walls over the last few months and didn't want to risk it again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked quietly.

"I'll be fine," Brian again insisted. "If this gets much worse I'll see Doctor Rabb, but for now I'm going to stay here and keep trying to reach whoever's out there."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." She replied slowly, as if she was testing the water, waiting for him to bite. "I know what its like to be out of control. Hell it killed me, if only for a short while." She remarked. "I can help." She added even though she didn't really want to. But there was a life at stake, possibility, and she couldn't ignore that.

"Not now, Lieutenant. I understand and appreciate your willingness to help, but we just don't know enough about what's going on here; it's too risky."

Dhani nodded her understanding. She wasn't too thrilled about the idea. And if he concurred, she would go with it.

The counselor managed a slight smile, despite how much his head hurt at the moment. "Thanks for your concern. I'm going to rest here awhile. Go on, go do wherever you need to be doing."

Dhani smiled, "I was actually on my way to see a counsellor." she said half laughing. "But I'm guessing with everything that's going on, on the ship, counseling appointments are the least of the department's worries." It was strange, a year ago Dhani would have loved the fact that she couldn't sit down and have her feeling dragged from her. But now, now that she was ready to talk and partly wanted to talk, the timing wasn't right. As she looked at the man before her she wondered if there was ever going to be a right time. On this ship it seemed the best counsel was yourself.

"Lieutenant, if you need to talk my door is always open -- even now, if you really need it, though I'm not sure what good I'll be like this." Nor was he sure what was going on elsewhere on the ship, as he'd been cooped up in his office most of the day. He'd check that out later.

Dhani smiled her gratitude "It's kinda a long story. I should stick with my assigned counselor. Too many cooks and all that jazz," she replied. slightly regretfully. She would love to talk but he wasn't in the right state and she, well to start at the beginning… it would take too long!

She turned to leave but paused in the open doorway. Glancing back at him she noted again how he pinched the bridge of his nose, his face scrunching up with pain as he did so. "If you wont let me help you to find the mystery voice," Dhani started, walking back in, "at least let me help *you*, to find the voice," she said. She smiled at his puzzled expression. "Sit down, on the floor," she instructed.

Deciding it easier to follow the path of least resistance, the counsellor silently complied.

Dhani took his arm and pulled him down gently, as she too sat on the floor. Once he was settled, well as settled as he could be at the slightly bizarre request, she reached out and went to touch his face.

Hesitating slightly, she waited for some sort of response from him before touching his cheek, she didn't want to be invasive.

Brian wasn't sure what Eshe was doing, but he didn't think it would be harmful. "Go ahead."

She closed her eyes and stroked his cheek, her nimble fingertips tracing a line across his soft skin. A line of energy. As she opened her eyes she could see him as he truly was. A beautiful sight. His life force… so colourful and bright. She had begun to see the world like this when she woke from her coma; full of light and energy ribbons.

No one looked as they had before, there faces and bodies were replaced, and in a way it was like looking at a thermal image. Although the body itself was not of the same shape. No obvious parts stuck out like arms heads and legs, it just was simple, one shape, rectangle or a sphere or hexagonal. Simple as creation had intended. Though still the inner workings were as complex as a machine, or human emotion, or both.

The life patterns that Dhanishta saw were like thick cords, the type you would find on old navy vessels; full of threads woven tightly to make one solid and strong foundation.

But the cord was always frayed. This wasn't a bad thing, for each thread was a persons influences on others. Weather it be a passing thought or a memory or a moment in their lives. A moment such as seeing them through a crowded room or knowing them intimately, a single line of advice or a life changing moment; whatever the interaction, it was a thread. And how that thread grew was up to each individual.

But it was there and always would be forever engrained in the patterns of the universe. And these threads Dhani could see, she could manipulate and redesign, to a point.

Brian's cord was magnificent and strong. It pulsed and hummed, vibrated with energy, glowing like a beacon in a clouded night sky. An anchor to those lost at sea.

The main core, or mantle was a deep rich purple, it glowed from within the fibers that were weaved around it; threads of electric blue with small flecks of silver glittering like diamonds. But there was something else, something that shouldn't be there. It was like a slug slithering along a single thread, glowing a bright yellow.

It was a reaction.

To what, Dhani didn't know. But for the moment she could take it. Put it upon herself? she questioned, but no that would mean that she would feel the pain… she could take it and put it somewhere else… but where? Or could she crush it and snap it out of existence?

With her decision made she concluded her course of action, snuffing out the strand of gold with a single thought. For a moment it seemed to resist her, the light glowing in defiance one last time before it was snuffed out, releasing his pain.

Dhani leaned back and closed her eyes again. The pain was a reaction, like an allergy. She hadn't eradicated the source but at least she had been able to clear his head, if only for a short time. Maybe it would be enough for him to find the voice and save a life.

Blinking and mildly confused, Brian opened his eyes widely. "Lieutenant, that's incredible. The headache's gone . . . I feel fine again."

Dhani could feel her skin tingling, she felt like she was floating for a few seconds before the buzz wore off. Opening her eyes she looked at him, staring into his. Her own had grown ever so dark, almost black like his. Twinkling in the light. She said nothing as she stood up. Slowly and with great care, she didn't want to stumble or anything. The buzz she had not expected.

"Thank you again, Lieutenant . . . and if I don't see an appointment request from you in the next couple days, I'll make one for you," he added, smiling wryly.

Dhani inclined her head slightly, "Any time. And I will have an appointment, as soon as this mess is cleaned up. Or else M'Kantu will have my head on a plate!" she helped him to his feet and squeezed his hand before leaving his office.

Hopefully she had helped the situation. And if not he knew where to find her.

"Echoes" - pt. 2

Command Master Chief Madden Jayce

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

[OOC: Occurs not long after "Voices Unheard, Visions Unseen"]

~Are you still there? Who are you? Where are you?~

Madden opened her eyes. She was still in the jeffries tube junction, she had thought, for a moment, that she had been taken away. She'd been coming in and out of consciousness for the past twenty minutes or so, given how much the temperature had dropped. The telepathic transmission she'd sent was on 'repeat', so to speak. She'd dreamt that she was on a ship. Starfleet, definitely.

But maybe it wasn't so much of a dream. She could feel them coming closer -- still long range, but closer. There was disturbance, the ghost's energies were changing.

~Command Master Chief Madden Jayce,~ she responded, wondering if it was loud enough for him to hear. ~Deep Space 5. Who are you?~

Back on the Galaxy, Counselor Elessidil's eyes opened suddenly at the unexpected response. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Lieutenant Eshe left, but since then he had almost given up, starting to think that maybe he *had* been hallucinating after all. And unfortunately, his headache had returned. ~Lieutenant Commander Brian Elessidil . . . I'm a counselor on the USS Galaxy.~ Remaining seated on the floor of his office, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. The voice had been real. ~What's your status, Chief?~

She smiled softly. He was Betazoid as well, she could identify the feeling of his telepathic fingertips -- every species was a little different. He was also a stronger telepath, though she wasn't sure how well he'd be able to communicate so far without someone at her level on the other end. She was exceedingly sensitive, trained to pick up the slightest telepathic signature, amplify it if she needed to.

~It's nice to hear a friendly voice, 'Commander. How far away is your ship? I...~ She faltered in her link a moment and she struggled to reconnect it, reaching out, grabbing hold. ~I don't have much longer. Life support is failing, it's freezing.~

~We're close . . . within visual distance. An away mission is being mounted as we speak. Chief, what happened to you, to the station?~

~An away mission...~ she repeated softly. ~You must be cautious... we were attacked by... something. Every one is dead. I'm alone.~

Had it not been for the accompanying presence of the woman's emotions, Brian would still have wondered if he was hallucinating. Thoughts weren't always as real as they seemed, but empathic sensation rarely lied.

She shuddered, tucking herself up as close as possible, knees to her chin. Why hadn't she thought to bring a heavier coat. A blanket. Hell, a space heater.

~It's still here. What attacked us. Everyone was affected, I don't know why, it was... some sort of psionic attack or...~ She broke off. Her emotions were edging even into her telepathic consciousness. She had no doubt he would empathically sense it all. Her fear, her cold, her desperation. ~Possession.~

The word was instantly chilling. ~Stay with me,~ he insisted, bolstering his own confidence in the hope that it would in turn help Jayce. Elessidil knew he couldn't mount any kind of rescue himself, but the Captain needed to know there was at least one person still alive on that station -- and that she needed help. ~Can you tell me where on the station you are?~

~I can't remember,~ she said, trying to focus. ~A Jeffries tube junction near Ops. I couldn't get… far…~

~Jayce, listen to me, focus on my thoughts.~ Brian could feel that she was an incredibly strong telepath, but he knew that strength was wavering as the affects of her physical and emotional distress took their toll. What she'd revealed thus far was cause for concern, and his condition at the moment didn't help, but this wasn't the time to indulge in his own reactions. If he lost touch with her completely, it would take a long time for anyone to find her on a facility that size. ~Do you remember what you were doing? Can you see or hear anything around you?~ he asked steadily, feeding her as much emotional strength as he could.

~There's nothing. Everything's quiet now. Very quiet. The voices fell silent a while ago. We accepted it and then… we went crazy. They did. I didn't, I hid, I don't know why, I had to.~

As Madden struggled to maintain her focus to communicate with him, Brian got up from the floor and moved to his desk. If he could send a message to the bridge without losing his link with her…

~Are you feeling it yet?~

Her question was jarring. That there could be a connection between his physical symptoms and the source of the voice had crossed his mind a lot, especially since talking to Eshe; this made it very real. ~I'm not sure. Nothing clear yet, anyway,~ he answered as he quickly finished his message to the bridge. ~How are you doing?~

~I just need to keep focusing on something. They're still here… they're trying to get inside and I'm holding them off but I'm tired…I'm so tired.~

~I know, but stay focused, Chief. You're doing fine; don't give up.~

~Tell me about you, Brian,~ she said.

Elessidil smirked; seemed like a funny topic given the gravity of the situation, but it would give Jayce something to focus on. ~Well, you already know I'm Betazoid, and a counselor. I was born on Earth and grew up on both worlds, really. My parents still live on Earth, but the rest of my family is on Betazed, in the Anquaar region. Are you familiar with that area?~

~Not really. A niece lives there but we're not close. I've never been.~

~Do you have family back on Betazed?~

She didn't answer, the silence was almost eerie.

~Stay with me, Chief . . . stay focused . . . your family, tell me about your family.~

~Sorry,~ she apologized, though she was very quiet, a whisper in his mind now. ~My… family is from the Opal Sea. My parents both live there, in our home on the coast. We're of the Third House, it's… I hated it. So much… pomp… and circumstance. All the…~

~The what? All the what?~ It wasn't important to him what she said, just that she said *something*. ~Come on, keep thinking . . . .~

~I can't keep this up much longer, I can't.~

A moment later, Brian knew she had slipped into unconsciousness, her presence in his mind flickered out like the last light of a spent candle. There was no need to ask, but he tried anyway. ~Chief! Chief Jayce . . .~

"Other Duties As Required"

Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer
Lieutenant JG Nara Roswell, Engineering Officer

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

Nara should had felt like skipping.

But she didn't.

Instead, she walked up to the door and calmly pressed the chime.

The normally-calm Bajoran was running around his quarters as though there was a small breach in the hull that had the oxygen rushing out of the room and he had a small sealant emitter and was hunting it down to get it closed off before the air completely evacuated from the room.

Okay, that wasn't exactly what was going on, but it was close enough, as far as he was concerned. If he didn't find that PADD, he was going to be just as dead as if the oxygen had evacuated into the vacuum of space. And the presence of the cat constantly miaowing as she expressed her own dissatisfaction at the frenetic change of pace in the normally peaceful quarters was not helping much. If only they'd told him he was going to be promoted before he picked up the cat...

His normally clean desk was piled with PADDs containing information on duty rosters, personnel profiles, maintenance reports on the shuttlecraft and runabouts, plus several reports being circulated to all senior staff. A few days ago, the Bajoran wouldn't have considered any of them important, but since he'd taken over Jeremy's job, he really began to appreciate just how harrassed his CO had been on occasion. But still, he'd lost one of the PADDs before he'd gone on duty - he had been reading one over breakfast before he headed off to work, but when he'd got back from a hectic duty shift, he couldn't find it.

The door chime sounded in the air, provoking another mewl from the cat, and Miramon rolled his eyes as he started looking down the sides of the chairs in the room. He didn't stand up or even glance at the door, but carried on with his search. When he spoke, his voice echoed something of his irritation, but it probably didn't carry as far as his words did themselves.

"Come in!"

As she walked through the door, she smiled, then looked worried, "You ok?"

He hadn't realised that his irritation was quite that visible as his head straightened up, looking at Nara as she ambled in the doorway. He sighed and stretched slightly, removing the tension that all the bending and leaning was causing in his back. Still, he didn't want to bother Nara too much with his work problems, so motioned her over to one of the several chairs in the room and dropped into one of them himself.

"I'm alright. Just somewhat preoccupied with bits and pieces today. I'm trying to get myself orientated around the concerns of the department - it's really surprising how much work there is to do when taking over one of the sections. Anyway, you didn't come here to talk about my problems. What can I do for you, Nara?"

She shrugged, "Well, I need to focus on something other than me, so tell me." She had been too preoccupied with what was going on in her life. She had to tell Saia about her Grandmother and make a decision to make a decision or leave it to Saia. She was in glee about Saul, but felt somewhat worried all the same. What danger did he think he would cause her? What did it matter? Hadn't she already been through the worst with him? How would her relationship with her room mate change? Was Bran resentful? If all those questions filling her mind weren't enough, now there was this weird cloud over her. It seemed like such dispair to make her sick at times. Was she stressed? It didn't feel like it was her's. It felt.... She shook her head from the thoughts as they rushed at her again. "So they promoted you too? Congratulations!"

The Bajoran flashed her an appreciative smile, while quickly dissolved into an amused grin, one of the expressions he almost constantly wore these days. "Thanks. If you want my advice, though, if you're not looking for a stressful life, don't take any command promotions. It's interesting, but it's given me a new appreciation for how much work the other staff put in regularly without batting so much as an eyelid. How have things been on your end?"

"In one word, complicated. Oh, and I also wanted to thank you for taking care of Saia."

Miramon shrugged nonchalently. "It's no problem, Nara. Not as though I have anything better to do with my free time these days. When I get free time, anyway. Now, seriously, what's on your mind?" Sufficed to say, he figured something was bugging her or at least there, since she was just keeping to small talk for the moment, and that was always a indication.

"I don't know," was all she could come up with.

"Don't give me that, Nara. You came in here for a reason. What is it?"

Nara sat down, "Bran isn't too happy about all this."

A sudden confused look appeared over Miramon's face. "About what? You're not making much sense, Nara."

She sighed. She suddenly felt shy about what happened with Saul. "In her words, 'Saul chose me.'"

"Oh, right. Yeah, he mentioned that one over dinner." Miramon had almost forgotten about it - he'd been too busy to consider the implications, once they'd finished in Ten Forward. "So Branwen knows? And what made Saul decide? I wasn't sure what he was doing, frankly."

"I don't know. I decided it's best not to open the can of worms and just be glad the weeks of me agonizing are over and we can finally be together..." She sat back wearily.

"But that's not quite true, is it?" Miramon observed bluntly. Nara was clearly under some other kind of strain, and though she was being nonchalent enough over everything that was happening with Saul, she still looked tired. Maybe she wasn't sleeping well or something.

"I knew the worms would be there anyway. They grew from little maggots since Saul declared he needed to decide. If I thought about it, I would worry a bit about the fact he HAD to decide. That's not the point though. I don't care HOW we're together now. I do, however, have to deal with the wake of it."

"The same would have been true regardless of which way this had gone. If Saul had gone with Branwen, the same would be true. If he'd decided to go with neither of you, and keep his distance, that would also be true. You should simply focus on the fact that you've got more to do than pick up pieces with Branwen. You've got things with Saul to keep with, as well."

Miramon spoke with a calm voice as he said this. He wasn't really much for relationships himself - as Saul had been quick to observe during their earlier dinner in Ten Forward. But that had never stopped him from giving advice to others - after all, he had observed a lot of different people in a lot of different situations, and he was always the type to think about the things he had seen, and generally, he trusted to his instincts on the situation. Besides, just because he wasn't doing well with relationships himself didn't mean that other people didn't have them. That would have been a nonsensical thought.

"I guess you just have to take things moment by moment, Nara. Branwen will get over it. Hell, given what you have to put up with, eventually she'll count herself lucky." The Bajoran gave her a thin-lipped smile. He just hoped she knew he was joking.

Nara nodded pondering it. "I can't seem to get in the 'moment.' But I'm not thinking about the past, future or anything for that matter. I'm so disconnected it seems, but I'm fully aware...that I'm disconnected?" She looked confused.

"Euphoria dampened by guilt. What did you think was bothering you? I'd have thought it obvious, Naranda."

Miramon raised a fair eyebrow at her in query, but didn't push it any further than he could have done. After all, the whole business between her, Saul and Branwen had been going on for a while, and to have closure to the matter was no doubt a cause for relief - but the young woman was too close to her roomate to not feel guilty for being with Saul. But then, she was hardly to be expected to simply stop for Branwen's sake, and it was Saul who had put them both in that unenviable position to start with. But of course, Nara wasn't blaming Saul. She was blaming herself.

"That's not all. There's something else. I thought it was because Saia's grandma contacted me, but that doesn't seem to be it. It could be the tension between me and the Chief Engineer, but I usually only feel that when I'm actually around her." Nara sighed, "There's something else I cannot put my finger on. It's like something is annoying me, but what?"

Miramon smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little that threatened to clearly overwhelm the Sakarian, and he was hardly immune to the feel of it himself. "She probably wants you out from under her feet, on a vacation on Risa with Saul, drinking cocktails with little umbrellas in. Face it - when was the last time you took any shore leave, huh?"

"Aside during the refit, none. I hadn't been onboard, or even in service, long enough for anyone to even be concerned about that. Especially myself. Besides it's hard to come by when everywhere we go some crazy whacky things happen."

"Dates Don't Grow On Trees"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Nara pouted. She pouted because she pouted. She was about to see Saul. They both admitted they liked each other. They had kissed. He had been there with her sickbay like any good suiter. Why didn't she feel ecstatic like a school girl like after they had kissed?

She forced a smile and pressed the chime.

The doors began to move, and then stopped. They were only fifty centimeters apart, and didn't give any sign of opening even more.

Nara looked at the doors oddly. She sighed. One thing about being an engineer is there was this inate desire to fix things even when not on duty. She started pressing some buttons on the door panel.

A hand emerged between the doors, then the whole arm. The hand was holding a single, beautiful, crimson-hued flower.

She looked up, and for a split second, she felt happy...only to be annoyingly sad the next second. She took the flower, "So the broken door was your idea?"

The door opened fully, revealing Saul. He was smiling, but it wasn't his regular sly grin. Just a smile. Warm, cheerful, carefree.

He was wearing casual cloths. Nara will never know that he just spent twenty minutes selecting what to wear, cursing and swearing in Dutch, Hebrew and Tellarite before finally choosing an outfit which both looked OK on him AND was comfortable. It seems comfort and fashion weren't on speaking terms these days.

"Who else? You're looking good, Nara.", He told her, the hand that previously held the flower now brushing a loose curl. "What would you like to do?"

Nara herself was wearing casual clothes as well. A simple skirt that came just above her knees and a long sleeved sweater. "Thank you. So are you." She seemed to fight herself to be there, be with him. Deep down she knew she was excited, but she could barely look beyond the cloud over her mind. "Anything would be fine."

Saul looked slightly disappointed. She guessed it was hard not to notice her unusual state of mind. Then, his face brightened.

"I know."

He went back to his room, and returned after a moment holding a small package. His free hand grabbed Nara's hand, and he began striding down the corridor, towing Nara after him.

"It's simple but I think that you will like.", He told her on the way.

Nara sighed and followed, for some reason now beginning to feel agitated.

Finally, they found themselves near the Intelligence CIC.

"What's this about?" She looked down realizing how sharp she sounded. "Sorry." She wispered.

"One more second."

Saul took a turn just before the entrance to the CIC. He reached for a panel by one of the doors, tapped a code, and entered. The room was dark, except for a single neon rectangle on the wall. After Nara's eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, she realized that the purple neon rectangle was the frame of a viewport. One by one, the stars outside became visible to her.

Besides her, Saul sat down, and opened the package. She could barely see him or the package's contents, and anything that she did saw was colored in dark purple.

"Welcome to the picnic.", Saul announced, quietly. The air in the room was so calm, so disconnected from the outter universe, that one couldn't bring himself to speak loudly.

Nara nodded, "I'm not hungry." Any other time, she would had eaten anyway. Any other time, she probably WOULD be hungry. Thing was, her appitite was the last thing on her mind.

"That's all right. The food is just an excuse anyway. It always is.", Saul said. He quickly closed the package, and placed it in the nearby corner of the room. He then shifted slightly toward Nara, until he could almost touch her.

"What we're really here for... well, it's right here in front of you.", He said, gesturing at the stars. "I thought you'd like some peace and quiet in the midst of all this madness."

Nara nodded, "It seems as if the madness is within my mind. There is no escape from it. It seems to follow me. Even now, when I should be the happiest, all I can do is feel miserable."

It was a good thing she didn't see Saul's face. He moved even closed to her, wrapping his arm around her and bringing his mouth close to her ear. "I thought our... decision... helped calm the madness down... what's troubling you, princess?"

Nara blinked, almost ready to cry. "I would say Bran, but I don't think that's it. I'm sad she's sad, but I don't think it would prevent me from enjoying you. I want to enjoy this. I've been wanting this." She put her head on his shoulder, "I'm ruining our first date."

"Let's say our first date was that cruise on Sakaria... which means that in worst case, only our second date might be ruined..."

He could sense the softness of her cheek, squeezed against his shoulder. Without thinking, he patted her other cheek softly.

She straightened up again, "Maybe this was just a bad time. I wanted it to go better than this." Deep down, all she wanted to do was smile and look into his eyes. She did look into his eyes then, but she couldn't seem to see past the air between them. She wanted to see into his eyes; his soul. Yet, something was so overwelming her mind she had no energy in her own soul to commune with another.

"Hey, no pressure, princess. You're just sad. It happens. If you want to tell me what's on your mind, I would love to hear. If not - stargazing is for sad people, too..."

"I want to tell you. That's what I've finally able to do. Tell you things. I don't know what it is though." Something began to build in her. An anger. An anger for the situation in which she should be happy but she couldn't. Then she felt it turn over onto Saul. She abruptly stood and spoke with a mixture of anger and weariness, "I don't feel like stargazing." She closed her eyes. She tried to collect herself and looked at him sadly, "I want this, but I can't just be in the moment. My mind is somewhere else and you wouldn't have my full attention and I so very much want to give it to you."

"Happens.", Saul sighed. "No bother. If you're not in the mood, we can stargaze some other day. Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?"

Nara took his hand, "I have to admit something to you. When we were on Mirusa and you, 8-Ball and I got seperated, I searched for you with my mind. I found you, but I didn't go deeper than I needed to find out where you were. Not that it helped. It was all a maze anyway." It came out of the blue, but she just thought of it and felt it good to tell him now.

Saul remained silent for a moment. He hoped she wasn't scanning him now. Their date was going downhill by the second. First, she got depressed when he finally brought himself to try and make her happy. Now, she suggested that she scanned him.

Saul didn't like telepaths. His mind was his castle, his sanctuary. The moment the walls of the castle fall, is the moment all his plans and aspirations will go to waste.

Come to think of it, he never thought of Nara as a telepath.

'Well, you didn't want easy', He told himself without words. Easy would be to go with Bran. Easier would be to remain alone. Perhaps neither was such a bad idea.

"That's all right, Nara. As long as you don't pry further, or without reason... and you had a good reason. If I could, I would seek you out, too."

Nara looked up, "I promised never to read your mind. I will keep that promise, but there are times when it helps to do a general...scan I guess... I wish you could too. I can't figure out what this is. Maybe someone else can."

"I wish no one couldn't. I'm not blaming you in anything, Nara, you were born with the ability - but I think telepathic abilities are a pandora box. For example, I can only imagine the damage caused by Section 31's telepaths, and I'm sure they had some."

At least they were talking now, Saul reckoned. It might help to distract her from the sadness.

"And as long as you remember your promise, I'm quiet.", He added.

Nara nodded, "It does have some set-backs." Her head tilted, "There is no reason for me to feel this way. For ME to feel this way." She looked past Saul as her mind tried to grasp something, but something prevented it.

"What do you mean?"

She barely heard him, as her head snapped back to look at him. She saw him, but it seemed different. Like the five minutes before were a dream or just in her mind. She blinked. "I don't mean anything."

"OK..."

Nara, in an attempt to not be drawn to mindless thinking again, changed the subject, "I have to tell Saia her Grandma wants to meet her." She knew she was changing subjects like crazy, but her mind wanted to go elsewhere and it was hard to stay on any one thing.

"She has a living relative?", Saul asked.

"Apparantly so. Something about Saia's parents and her not talking, but when she heard about the crash, she wanted to find Saia."

"Is she going to claim custody over Saia?"

"I don't know. I think now we just need to see if Saia wants to meet her. I'm sure she does." Nara couldn't even figure out if she was sad about that.

"I would.", Saul lied. "Did you tell her?"

"Not yet." Normally she would had laughed while admitting, but her tone was still the same meloncholy, "I'm not so good at timely correspondance. I just read the message yesterday and didn't have time to sit down with her yet."

"She deserves to know... is that why you're sad?", Saul asked softly.

Nara shook her head, "No. I don't think so. I'm glad she has family. I hadn't really had time to figure out how I feel about it. About anything. Even us. I was excited and then...." She blinked and looked down a moment before looking at him again, "It seems I have no room for feeling anything." She shook her head, "That doesn't make sense."

"I guess you're just a little confused with everything that happened. An overdose of life."

"I've had to deal with worse." She fought to keep her mind focused on this nice coherent conversation. Well, coherent as she could get.

Saul stood up. "Come on, let's get you home."

She walked with him, "I've had to deal with two people dying because of me. I've had to deal with someone...taking advantage of me." She coded it for they were in the corridor with the chance people could walk by any moment.

Saul simply nodded. He was very curious about what she just said, but now was not the time.

She continued to ramble, "That one screwed me up more than I knew. Didn't even realize that till we destroyed those mines. Those mines. I had this sadistic pleasure in destroying those. But I guess it wasn't too bad. They were organic, but they weren't sentient. What's really sentient anyway."

"They were just mines...", Saul attempted. He began to lose her trail of thought, if he hasn't already.

"And they're gone now. All I had to say was, 'Kill yourself.' And they did...." Her mind went unbidden again, "Kill." She wispered. She shook her head, "I think I need to sleep. Sleep deprivation does crazy things right? I can't sleep when..."

"Sleep would be good...", Saul muttered

Something in the tone of his voice made her look at him, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it.", Saul said, patting her back.

"I'm going crazy." She nodded, "I'll lay down and I'll tell Saia about her grandma when she comes home."

They reached Nara's threshold. Saul was suddenlly anxious that he'll encounter Bran. "You do that.", He told her, and leaned forward to kiss her.

She looked into Saul's eyes and for a split second, saw them. "You never have to worry about a Roswell. We can handle anything."

Saul kissed her on the nose, not taking any uneccessery chances. "I won't. Now get some rest."

"Alrighty." She nodded and stepped inside and stood in the door, "I'll make this up to you."

Saul simply nodded politely, and hurried down the corridor before the door to Nara and Bran's quarters opens.

After hearing the door hiss behind her, Nara lay down on the couch and tried to keep her mind on one track, which didn't work. She wasn't sure where it went, but before she knew it, she heard the door swoosh open. She jerked up and looked at the young girl place a PADD on the table. "Did I wake you up?"

Nara wanted to tell her to leave, but fought that. She shook her head, "No." There was no slumber to be awakened from.

"The Curious Incident" part 1 of 3

Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer
Lieutenant JG Nara Roswell, Engineering Officer
Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Doctor Kio, Medical Officer Saia (Trill APC)

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

"Miramon!"

The little urgent voice was heard over Miramon Terrik's commbadge. The Bajoran had been busy reading through the observations of the navigation officers that Jeremy had written when he'd been in charge - certainly reading the man's comments on Miramon's own performance had been an interesting enough experience. Still, when the voice came over the comm, he put down the PADD and tapped his commbadge. Normally, Saia didn't contact him without Nara around, so why the girl had spoken first was a mystery. And one he was about to solve.

"Go ahead, Saia. What can I do for you?"

"Nara's sick!" Was the short simple reply Saia gave.

Miramon arched an eyebrow. If Nara was sick, normally she'd take herself to Sickbay, or if it as just a bout of the flu, take some aspirin and curl up in bed for a few days until she felt better, as far as he knew.

Apparently, this wasn't the case, and Saia DID sound urgent.

"Alright, Saia, just stay calm. Where are you, and what condition is she in, exactly?"

"We're in our quarters. She's just laying here with her face all scrunched up. She won't answer me." Saia spoke through a shaky voice.

She couldn't lose anyone else. It was simply too much for any ten year old to be asked to handle.

Nara heard Saia and Miramon as if they were echoes. Her mind felt as if it were somewhere else. Lost. Yet she still felt her body on the couch and heard the voices, but it all seemed background noise compared to where her mind was . "Okay, stay where you are, Saia. I'll be there in a moment." Miramon tapped his commbadge and stood up from his desk, not bothering to grab his uniform jacket. He moved round the desk and quickly hurried out of his quarters, heading to the turbolift so he could get to Nara's place and find out what was wrong. As he did so, he tapped his commbadge again, hearing a click as the comm went online.

"Terrik to Sickbay. I need a medical team in Lieutenant Roswell's quarters, stat."

The Bajoran strode into the turbolift and turned around as the doors hissed closed. He cut off the commlink to Sickbay and pressed his commbadge a third time.

"Terrik to Bental. Saul, we have a major problem, buddy. Meet me at Nara's quarters, quickly."

Not bothering to explain further, Miramon cut off the call and waited for the turbolift to reach the appropriate deck. If Saia was serious and Nara had collapsed, it wasn't likely there was much time - as far as he knew, the woman was in the best of health.

**Ensign Kio's quarters**

Looking back over the time since her arrival on the Galaxy, Ensign Kio could perceive no fault in her performance and this was pleasing to her.

She had certainly exceeded any requirements expected of a new ensign in the medical team, but then as those requirements were based upon the abilities of other races this could not be seen as so great an achievement. Even so she allowed her-self at least five minutes of contemplation over these initial successes before lighting the first candle and beginning the routine of her evening meditation, a discipline she no longer had to initiate as her body naturally fell into the rhythms required. And then she stopped.

Today had been different.

Despite her physical proximity to those she worked alongside there had always been a barrier of her own construction. Nothing that others said or did could harm her; it did not matter if they found her Vulcan ways strange or offensive. She was Vulcan and nothing could make her pander to the apparent need of humans and the other more primitive races to bond emotionally with each other. Respect she would allow, she had respect for her colleagues in medical. but why seek to spend time socializing when neither party had anything to gain from it?

But today had been different and despite the mental discipline that normally so effectively quashed her emotions it was still gnawing away at a corner of her mind. Her meditation failed as the desired emptiness filled with these small irritations. "This is below me." She said to the flickering light on the wall of her quarters.

It was in the following moment that the com in her room bleeped. "Medical to Ensign Kio, we have a medical emergency in Lieutenant Roswell's quarters and we need you to attend to her immediately." The voice sounded harassed. Kio took a deep breath before she answered. "I am off duty, are there not active medical personnel available?"

"Negative, Ensign Kio, we have had a series of patients brought into sickbay over the last hour and we are overrun. All medical personnel off duty are being asked to return to sickbay."

"Understood, I will attend Lieutenant Roswell at once." There was no reply and Kio, thankful that she had not yet removed her uniform, grabbed her emergency medical kit and quickly left her room.

Even as the door slammed shut that wave of irritation attacked again and with it a great feeling of nausea which caused her to stagger to the wall of the corridor. This was most unusual, Kio could not remember a time when she had such a sudden attack of sickness and she searched her memory for some cause, a food or drink she had imbibed, a change in her routine? But there was no immediate logical explanation, nor any cause for those little clawing suggestions that were now clamoring louder for attention. Suggestions. Suggesting something old, a memory from her childhood. Standing before her father, his figure looming as a tall shadow in front of the pale light that came through the open door, her face wet with tears. She had felt something then and she felt it again now as his level voice came to her, reprimanding what she had done and how she had felt about it. The memory faded as did his words but the feeling remained and she grew cold within as she recognized it for what it was.

Anger. She waited faithfully for the control to return and destroy the disquiet within her breast, for her hearts to slow and her body to cease its shaking.

But instead the nausea attacked again, flowing down through her head and then her entire form as if it were carried by an electric current and even as she fell to her knees another memory came to her.

When she was an older child. standing before the rows and rows or armor plate from the barbaric past of Vulcan, winking in the museum's lights . the voice of her teacher talking of the sins of their ancestors who had nearly destroyed them-selves through their slavery to emotion. She had stood there listening to the bloody past of her people and she had secretly thought what a grand thing it would be to wear such armor, to use the strength in your body to fight and let your emotions rule you.

For just that one moment the wild thrill had filled her and now, so many years later it once more consumed her.

"What is this?" She asked.

But asking the wall questions was illogical in the extreme and so she waited, thankful that no one came, until a degree of calm returned. It was only when she stood that she realized the skin on her knuckles was split and the bright green of her blood decorated a dent in the wall paneling. There was such strength in that hand, so superior to that of a human.

She smiled, a rare and precious experience and began to walk towards the quarters of Lieutenant Roswell. She had to make up time; she had lost almost four minutes in the corridor.

"The Curious Incident" part 2 of 3

Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer
Lieutenant JG Nara Roswell, Engineering Officer
Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Doctor Kio, Medical Officer
Saia (Trill APC)

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

Nara opened her eyes and tried asking Saia why she turned the lights down, but could only mutter out through her crowded thoughts, "Lights."

Saia looked at her half relieved that her friend was talking and half worried that it was barely audible. "They're already on, Nara."

Nara had a vague memory of Saia calling Miramon, "I'm fine."

"Can you stand?"

Nara stood and snapped, "I'M FINE!" The way she stumbled to the other side of the room said otherwise. Nara then yelled at the computer, "LIGHTS!"

Saia stood there confused as the computer responded, "Illumination at full."

Nara tapped her commbadge, "Roswell to Terrik. Saia was over-reacting. You don't have to come."

"Negative on that one, Naranda. I'm coming over, barring your objections. No arguments."

Miramon shook his head - likely it wasn't a false alarm at all, but he knew Nara was as stubborn as old leather at times, and he had no intention of allowing her to play down something that had clearly distressed Saia to the point that she would contact him to come over. Nope, he was going to have to play by his own rules this time. Besides, he'd contacted Sickbay and Saul, so it wouldn't really be appropriate to just leave them to it, given that he'd sent out the summons in the first place.

Kio arrived at the door to Roswell's quarters and raised her hand to announce her presence on the com, but even as her finger tips brushed the devise she froze and the muscles in her face began to work.

The "badness," a sharp metallic tang on her tongue, seemed to press upon her from the room she was about to enter. It had changed, or perhaps she had changed, accepting that she could not fight it and remain collected in front of the crew. Better to let the anger sit there and fester for now until she was in the sanctity of her room once more. She was Vulcan and she would remain focussed whatever might rage inside of her. But now the twisted sick knot within was responding to something behind this door and she did not want to go in. A new feeling, another emotion had added its-self like a drop of poisonous mercury to the growing pool that lay in her stomach. Fear.

And fear played with the anger until once more she was fighting to stay standing and keep control. "Stop." She said in a voice both hushed in tone and desperate, appealing to her-self and the thing behind the door. It shifted and she knew in a sudden burst of clarity that it rode the person she had come here to treat. Her enemy revealed she steadied her-self to look it in the eye and pressed the com button.

Stepping into the brightly lit room she found it occupied by a young Trill girl she did not recognize and Lieutenant Roswell. The Lieutenant was standing, barely. The woman was unwell, that much was certain and the "badness" was there all about her like a sick aura that Kio knew she could not really see with her eyes but was nevertheless real. She swallowed.

Nara turned sharp and looked into the eyes of a Vulcan. She looked at the woman angrily, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I have been sent to see you by medical, please take a seat Lieutenant."

She said, her hand itching to rise to her face and cover her mouth but she made it stay where it was.

"Don't tell me what to do, and I don't care who sent you! Get out of here!" The words seethed with evil and deep down, she felt herself fighting for control. Maybe it was that tiny bit of control that walked away from Saia and gave this woman a chance to leave.

Saia was shocked to say the least to see Nara like this. She was scared.

The one person she trusted wholly suddenly turned into something she didn't understand and most definitely feared. The stranger in the room wasn't helping matters. She decided to get out of there and find Miramon. So she slipped behind the Vulcan and out the door.

Nara didn't even realize. Nara had no thought of Saia at all. All she saw was a strange Vulcan woman in her quarters and all she thought was how to get her to leave.

A moment after Saia sprinted out of the room and into the corridor, she collided with something black and gray. After she staggered for a moment, she looked up and recognized who she smashed into. It was the man who her friend met on Trill, and who later gave them a ride. Saul.

Saul knelt next to her, so that she didn't need to stretch her neck to look at his face. "What happened to Nara?"

Saia didn't think about trusting him this time. "She wouldn't respond and was laying down looking hurt and then she got up and starting yelling and..and..." Saia wasn't sure what to say. She felt alone.

Again.

Saul told Saia, "Perhaps she's just feeling unwell. You know how it is when you're sick and people keep doing things that piss you off like offering you soup and telling you to rest?"

Saia looked at him and shook her head, "No. She’s yelling."

"I'm used to that." Saul said. He stood up, and entered the room. Saia followed, but stood in the door leaving it open.

'bonobo effect'

by Turan Trelar, civilian trainee

timeline: T-45 minutes to arrival at DS9 (five earlier than 'ashes in your mouth')

Turan stared as his padd. He did so for almost an hour now. During that hour, nothing changed. Every time he concentrated on the task, the words and letters display by the padd left their place and wandered around forming new senseless sentenced.

The Quentite stood up and looked out of his quarters bull-eye-like window to allow his eyes a short rest. The Galaxy was scheduled to arrive at her destination in less than a day. Nevertheless there was nothing to be seen than stars forming long white line due to the speed, the giant vessel passed them.

Turan returned to his desk, tried to refocus on the riddle, his padd displayed. When he was forced to face the riddle down in a cavern on XXX he first thought it wasn't very demanding.

When the unknown voice explained that a full and correct solution was the only way to get out of the cavern alive made him become nervous.

When the pale blue light produced an ancient style sand hourglass just two steps in front of him he almost panicked. Luckily he was beamed out of the cavern back to the desert planets surface before the last grains of sand found their way out of the upper glass. The riddle was only half solved then. Concentration was never a problem- at least not before the incident on Mirusa. After he returned to the Galaxy, things seemed to normalize instantly.

Now the lack of concentration returned - much stronger than before - much stranger than before. Again Turan looked up from the padd. Solving problems seemed so much easier home at school. Turan remembered his former teachers' faces.

Mr Tog, the old history teacher who was able to tell stories in a way the pupils overheard the bell more often than once.

Or Mr Tingan the literature teacher who was able to read a page of the Novela phone book as if it was a masterpiece of ancient tragedy.

Or Ms Korwa, the algebra teacher. Turan remembered her standing at the blackboard naked drawing geometrical figures. Probably she was the only teacher who's bag of tricks contained a way to destroy a window by simply drawing a rectangular triangle on a blackboard.

Turan walked over to his quarters replicator and ordered a glass of malo juice.

Something was wrong ... Something was wrong with that picture. As cute as Ms Korwa was - she wasn't much older than her pupils - she never taught their class naked. Nevertheless, imaging her naked body made Turan become aroused. What happened to him? What was the source? What was the reason. At home on Quentin, he could have asked his friends or his brothers. Here on a strange alien star ship far, far away from home he was left alone. - left alone with emotions he never encountered before - left alone with emotions which intensity seemed to slowly let him run hot.

"The Curious Incident" part 3 of 3

Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer
Lieutenant JG Nara Roswell, Engineering Officer
Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Doctor Kio, Medical Officer
Saia (Trill APC)

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

Kio had stood motionless since Nara had shouted, her mind refusing to work as it should. She could not analyze this situation, assess this patient, and even move to open her medikit as she knew she should. One word had gripped her mind, spoken by Nara but finding a new and terrible volume inside her skull, "Kill." The voice bellowed and the woman standing angrily before her seemed to diminish in size and strength. How dare she threaten Kio? She was no match for the superior strength in her Vulcan body, she could crush her in a moment, twist her head from her shoulders, pull the limbs from their feeble sockets.

The Medikit made a noise as it hit the floor and Kio took four strides across the room until she was stood looking down into the Nara's face, searching for the fear that should dwell there. But Nara looked as if she was having a similar epiphany and Kio knew it was moments before they reached for each other. Hungry saliva filled her mouth and her tongue felt the sharpness of her teeth. She wondered what this woman's blood would taste like.

And then the appalling nature of her intentions hit her. What by the Gods was she doing, even contemplating?! She saw Nara's pupil's contract as if she too might be making the same dreadful realization and the next moment she threw her-self across the room and away from Nara, breath catching in her throat. Even as she turned to look back at the woman she heard the door opening behind her.

The door swooshed again, and Nara's eyes shot toward him. Something inside vaguely felt a warmth for him. Deep down she knew she didn't want to hurt him. "LEAVE!" She didn't want to hurt anyone for that matter.

"EVERYONE LEAVE!"

Saul's face didn't give away the slightest hint of emotion or surprise. "We'll leave in a moment, Nara.", He said, and then approached the unfamiliar Vulcan officer.

"What happened here?", He asked her quietly.

Kio, momentarily feeling almost normal despite the shaking of her hands, bent to pick up the medkit and turned to face Saul and Saia, her face impassive.

"Lieutenant Roswell needs immediate medical attention and must be escorted to sickbay." She hesitated, bothered by the hypocrisy of her next statement, "She should perhaps be accompanied by a security officer."

Miramon was right outside Nara's quarters, and walked in without bothering to announce his presence with the door chime, since he still felt a sense of urgency regarding her earlier behavior, and certainly of Saia's warning. No, something wasn't right, and he wasn't going to allow her to risk causing herself more injury by playing it down as an irrelevancy. Stepping inside, his cool blue eyes assessed the situation in front of him - one Vulcan, wearing the teal of a medical officer, one clearly being Saul, still wearing the black and red of tactical, and the other being Saia. And then, of course, there was a very angry looking Naranda Roswell.

It was, perhaps, quite something to see the woman aggravated like this. She was rarely one that he'd consider to be angry - defiant, yes, stubborn, certainly, even downright impulsive at times, absolutely. But not angry and certainly not aggressively angry. But, as it was, he was more confused by the fact that she was angry AND standing on her feet, seemingly having some kind of stare-down with the Vulcan, who didn't seem to be having any of it. The Bajoran sighed deeply as he walked in. This wasn't going to work out well.

Nara grew more agitated, "Fine! I warned you!" With that, she walked into her room, took the batleth from her wall, and came back out, set in a battle pose.

At the sight of the weapon a calm seemed to descend upon Kio. She did not wait to question whether it was her-self or the new angry self that moved her, she didn't even pause to consider what it was that she was planning to do, but as Nara came at her with the Batleth she danced around her and her fingers found the curve of her neck and fastened there. She held the woman against her for a moment as she succumbed to the neck pinch and then she hastily lay her upon the floor and stepped away.

Saia's eyes shot open seeing Nara slump to the floor. She gasped and rushed over, slowing down when her feet came close to the blade. "What did you do?" She looked at the Vulcan.

Kio swallowed, her throat was so dry. For a moment she had wanted to. But she hadn't. "I have simply immobilized the Lieutenant, we must have her taken to sickbay at once." She took out an instrument from the medikit and ran it over Nara's body, focusing all of her strength on performing this one routine task and holding her composure. "There are no obvious symptoms to her illness, but the readings show a heightened level of neural activity within the inactive part of her brain. Most irregular." She pressed her com badge as she stood, "Ensign Kio to sickbay, please ready a unit for Lieutenant Roswell." She did not wait to hear more than the confirmation.

"Lieutenant Bental," she addressed Saul, "Please supervise the transfer of Lieutenant Roswell to sickbay."

She instructed and again not pausing to hear what either of them had to say she left the room. As the door shut behind her she closed her eyes and leant against the wall for a moment.

Saia looked at Saul confused and worried, "Is she going to be ok?"

"After a nerve pinch, one would think so. It would depend what is wrong with her, young one." Miramon smoothly stepped in and stood next to Saia, looking meaningfully at Saul. His words were, to some extent, probably true, but since they didn't know what was wrong with Nara, it would be unethical to say that she'd be alright. But then, it would also upset Saia to think that it wouldn't be, so he'd taken the middle ground.

The Bajoran stepped in closer to the human and lowered his voice so that only his friend could hear him. "Saul, you take Nara to Sickbay, if you would. I'll take Saia with me and keep her occupied. Make sure you keep me posted on Nara's situation, please."

In regular days, Miramon would receive a saucy response for calling Saul 'young one'. Right now, however, the Tactical chief simply nodded and placed his hand gently on Nara's neck - exactly where Kio performed the pinch.

Within moments, both he and Naranda vanished in the light of the Transporter beam.

Miramon moved away and kneeled down onto the floor so he could look Saia directly in the eyes. Sufficed to say, he was the oldest person present, and also looked the oldest person in the room. Children, generally speaking, tended to either rebel vigorously against the authority of age, or simply acquiesce to it. Hopefully Saia would take the latter approach.

"Saia, why don't you come with me to my quarters. I've got someone I've been wanting you to meet. Will you come while the Doctor looks after Nara for you? She's in good hands."

“An Empty Void” Part one of Two

(Takes place directly after “Ghostbuster Oshea Who Ya Gonna Call...”)

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M’Kantu

Lieutenant (JG) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer

****

USS Galaxy
Deck Outside Engineering

After visiting engineering and almost shocking O’Shea into an early grave, Dhani resumed the original course she was taking… to Lieutenant Ward’s office.

For some reason the idea didn’t thrill her. And she was actively thinking about where she could go first…. See the captain perhaps, maybe Dallas? Hum Dallas seemed like the least of the options she wanted to do. The Captain could be fun. Maybe she could give him a heart attack too.

Stepping into the Turbo lift she smiled smugly, “Bridge.” She called out.

Why was it she always seemed to find ways of diverting the inevitable? She would go and see Ward, though she knew what he wanted to know and she just wasn’t ready to talk. And the same thing went for Dallas too. Although it could be wise to talk to the counsellor first, it would help her to put everything in order. Though that session might take longer than the allocated time!

As the lift doors parted Dhani stepped out on to the bridge of the Galaxy.

“I’m here to see the captain.” She said to the officer on duty. Anticipating the next question she said, “No I don’t have an appointment, but he is expecting me.” Well she though he was. After all O’Shea hadn’t believed the message that was sent to her to let her know that Dhani was alive and back on board, maybe M’Kantu hadn’t either.

The duty officer nodded, checked with the Captain, and waved Dhani towards the door. “He’s free right now, Lieutenant.”

The door opened as she was reaching to signal her presence. “Come in, Lieutenant.”

Dhani hesitated in the doorway. After her encounter with O’Shea she wasn’t looking forward to what M’Kantu had to say. Taking a deep breath she stepped forward, “Captain.” She said inclining her head.

She stood before his desk, eyes front, shoulders square, feet slightly apart; full attention, awaiting his wrath.

Daren looked down at the information on his LCARS panel, and back up at the resurrected officer in front of him, considering what to say. In the end, he settled for, “How is your mother, Lieutenant? I imagine that this was… difficult… for her.”

Dhani flinched and dropped her stance staring at the captain. His question caught her off guard. For a moment she was speechless. When she went to speak her voice was hoarse; her throat had dried,

“No sir.” She replied, “She didn’t take it well.” It was not the easiest of things to say; ‘My mother was so overjoyed to see me alive that she was sedated!’ But that was what happened. So maybe she should just tell it as it was?

Dhani went to speak again but she couldn’t. Instead she resumed her eyes front position and straightened up once more.

“Hardly surprising considering her state the last time I saw her,” Daren agreed. “At ease, Lieutenant, this isn’t an inquisition, just a meeting.” He waited for her to relax. “And your sister? How did she take the news?”

Dhani relaxed, but only enough to let herself look at her Captain. “She was shocked too. The stress of the situation caused her to collapse. She was also sedated for twenty four hours. But she handled it a lot better than my parents.” Dhani replied. Mainly her mother, her father was overjoyed, but he restrained himself because her mother was so … distort? There wasn’t really any other word for it.

Even though the captain had told her to relax she was still nervous. As of yet he hadn’t made any comment on her extra curricular activities; namely her expedition to the Orian Syndicate to clear Michaels name. *And* he also hadn’t mentioned the fact that her medical records had been faked. Something that she herself had only recently discovered.

So in essence she was slightly trembling. Her back was ridged and her palms were slightly sweating.

“I see that they have you down for a meeting with the counselors to schedule session,” Daren continued. “You’ll go, of course, correct, Lieutenant? No games. No one goes through what you did without needing to talk to someone.”

Dhani nodded, possibility a little too quickly. “I have no problems with that Sir. It’s actually on my list of things to do today.” She smiled slightly. But no sooner had the smile come it vanished as he spoke.

“Good.” Now, about your medical records….”

Dhani flinched at the words. Tria had mentioned something back on Trill. And according to him, and her sister, her medical records were fakes, or just missing a huge chunk of her life. But then she didn’t remember, and her parents remained elusive on the subject. In fact not long after she recovered, they left Trill and she hadn’t seen them since. The occasional subspace message, but that was all. So even though Kala insisted that she had been in a coma when she was a child…. Surely she would remember that? It’s not something you just forget. So like the rest of them she was at a loss.

But more to the point, she was wondering about her life… questioning things that she just took as they were presented. And after everything she didn’t want to be questioning her family. No matter the discourse between her and her mother she loved her just the same and she trusted her. They wouldn’t lie.

But then neither would Kala.

But then Kala was a child and maybe she remembered things different from how they happened.

Dhani looked up at the Captain, her eyes had trailed to the table as she fought inside herself. Did she need to know the answers? Did she want to know the answers? Was she ready for them?

“Sir,” she began cutting him off, “I can’t help you with that question.” She replied plainly.

She wasn’t ready.

“Considering your age at the time they may possibly have been altered, Lieutenant, I don’t think that anyone can realistically expect that you were directly involved in any alterations that took place. You were…” Daren started to scroll down the record in front of him, but looked up at her to let her fill in the age.

“I wouldn’t know sir.” She replied slightly clipped. “As I have no idea what they are talking about. If something happened to me when I was a child I would know about it.” She locked her eyes on to him, “I have an extremely good memory.” She said with conviction. She truly believed that, or she had. And now she was clinging on to that belief, if only to keep herself from questioning her entire life and going completely insane. If she had to do that right now she would probably jump out the nearest air lock. Not that she was suicidal or anything!

“…very young,” Daren finished. “I see that you’re also slated for another set of tests to make certain that your parents didn’t take you to a shadow clinic for genetic resequencing as well. I’d advise you to make that one as well. We already have one issue of illegal genetic manipulation currently under investigation aboard ship. We do not want another to surprise us as well.” He looked up. “Understood, Lieutenant?”

Dhanis eyes widened, “Genetic resequencing?” she asked. That was a new one. She hadn’t expected that in the slightest.

“Blame Dr. Julian Bashir and his parents for that one, Lieutenant,” Daren sighed. “They started this particular round of paranoia.”

“Of course I’ll go Sir.” Dhani replied. She was still a little shocked but she would go. Add it to the list of other tests. Was her life ever going to revolve around anything other than sick bay and counseling?

Daren nodded and leaned back a little in his chair. “I know that there are some adjustments you’re having to make, although the change in your appearance may be one of the hardest. We define ourselves by the way we look, after all, and in addition to everything else, you’ve lost that definition too. How are you holding up?”

How I look? Dhani replied in her head, what the hell is wrong with how I look?! She took a moment and paused. She was as thin as a rake, her ribs jutted out, she had hardly any muscle left on her once athletic body and if she had to jump in a drinking contest she was sure that she would wake up drunk with a hangover for the first time in her life.

For Dhani still felt the same, still felt the warrior, the one who could pummel anyone into the ground, scare them with a look. But she wasn’t able to anymore, she was a scrawny bony pathetic little thing now.

And the Captain just had to go and point this all out to her.

She snorted slightly and tried not to sound hurt or defensive. “I’m fine.” She concluded. Although that was a clear a lie as space was a vacuum.

She turned and looked out the window, caught for a moment by her own sharp angled face staring back at her. Quickly she stared at the floor.

Daren shook his head. “I doubt that, Lieutenant, but I expect that you will be eventually. Just don’t rush things too much trying to get there. Life moves at different paces for a reason, and trying to force a faster or slower one usually winds up creating more problems.”

Dhani just nodded slightly in agreement. She wasn’t going to force anything. Just maybe getting back to work. The last thing she wanted was to be suspended from duty, or given light duty. Almost drove her insane last time, or was she insane…?

“What about you, Lieutenant? What are your feelings about being back on the Galaxy?”

Her gaze shifted to him for a moment. She wondered if he had anyone barrage questions like this at him. She wasn’t in a counseling session! She didn’t know the man well. She kinda wanted to know what happened after the incident at Quinten, the one that she could still remember clear as day.

Did he know it was her that saved the ship? Did he know how tormented she had been by visions of her older self, or rather how she had been possessed by her older self? Did he know that she decked a child and broke his nose, although he hadn’t been a child when she met him on Quinten; temporal mechanics!

Did her report of the incident help him at all? Did that woman that commanded the ship in his absence ever tell him of her outburst on the bridge…?

Did he know that in the two years she had served under his command that she had never unpacked? That she had never been able to call this ship, his ship, home?

That when she died, the first time, in some unused crew quarters in Michaels arms after injuring her self so badly, and decking her CO... that she was actually happy? That she was more content being dead than on this ship? Did he know that when she flew that old broken runabout into the temporal rift, that the only comfort she had was a bitter twisted old hag, who was in fact her self? Did he know that she hated every moment on this ship and never slept in two years?

And did he know just how hard it had been to walk back into engineering after what Suder had done to her, to walk into that office without screaming?

And how hurt she had been when O’Shea kicked her out?

How shattered she felt that at long last the only place she wanted to be, was not only filled with tormenting memories but with people that didn’t want her, that refused to believe that she was alive,

[“Then tell me, how one comes back from the dead?" You can't, not with the technological level we are at. Even the slightest coma, you would have been registering alive."]

[“Right now I don't know what to believe, I'm a person that lives by science and technology, hell your own sister sat right here with me and cried her head off telling me you were dead.. Now you’re not, suddenly." Anna said. "Doesn't make sense."]

The recent ‘welcome’ words from her new CO rung over in her head, the feeling of aloneness crept back into her heart. The feeling that she was never wanted, not by them, by Starfleet or even by her own mother, tugged at her.

“I’ve only been back a short while.” She replied almost choking on the lump that stuck in her throat. “Still settling in..” she quickly turned back to the window. Begging for the solace form the stars to surround her, to comfort her like they once had. But now it was just an empty void. Dark and uninhabitable.

Daren looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded once. “You’re not the only one, you know,” he offered quietly.

“What?” Dhani asked frowning.

“The only one aboard the Galaxy to return from the dead.”

“An Empty Void” Part Two of Two

(Takes place directly after “Ghostbuster Oshea Who Ya Gonna Call...”)

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M’Kantu

Lieutenant (JG) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer

****

USS Galaxy
Bridge
Captains Ready Room

Dhani mulled over that fact. She knew that Suder had died once. He mentioned it to her while trying to console her after the incident at Quinten. Or was it before after she had died in Michael’s arms…? She half laughed at that thought, he had been there for her *almost* every time.

“Granted,” Daren pointed out, “none of them managed it quite the way that you did, but more than one has done it in their own way. Legate Curran, for example, for most purposes died on Breen and had to resurrect his human self. Several other crewmen literally died at Havras and were brought back only by the narrowest of margins. I, myself died – although not physically – when my daughter was lost to June and I in a raider attack. I’m still working on coming back from that death in some ways. I imagine if you ask Counselor Dallas, she can provide you with a list of name that you can talk to about it – people aboard ship that have died and returned. None of them quite like you did it as I said, but people who will understand.”

“That’s..” Dhani chose her words carefully, “comforting..?” she offered.

While comforting wasn’t the word Daren would have used to describe the knowledge that other people had felt what she felt or worse, it was – marginally – a better answer than ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ He decided to wait and see if Dhani would say more, or try and leave the meeting. Either way, he knew he’d be having a talk with Karyn Dallas to make certain she knew what occurred so she could help the Lieutenant.

She studied the Captain for a moment, she hadn’t expected to ever have this sort of conversation with him; in fact she had never thought that she was even on his radar. Maybe it took this to be noticed, but then she had never wanted to be noticed. Well not yet at least, and certainly not for this. She didn’t spend an extra two years on Earth, studying Starfleet Command to stay an underdog in engineering. Nor did she join this ship to become a neurotic mess and die countless times.

With an un-expectant surge of trust and honesty Dhanishta sat down, although not in front of the Captain’s desk like an equal might, she chose one in the corner of the room, slightly concealed in shadows.

“When I joined the ship I couldn’t sleep,” she began, “I went to sick bay and tried many things to help. But nothing worked. In the end I turned to an old friend for help. His name was Sark. He was my mentor on Vulcan. He died before I fell into a coma..” she trailed off knowing that, that was something else she had to deal with soon, “He tried to help me,” Dhani continued, “but I was enraged by his words. I don’t remember what he said to set it off, but I ended the conversation and proceed to trash my quarters. I think that is when it all started… I went to Ten Forward and got extremely drunk. Suder found me and tried to cheer me up, dwell in my bout of depression. I’m not sure which. But out in the corridor I punched him.” Dhani confessed what she had never divulged in anyone before. Something else that Suder had covered up, although this worked in her favor.

“He side stepped my lunge and I then passed out. I woke up in his quarters, vomited several times and soon left. I didn’t realize the damage I did to myself. When I woke up the next morning I went to work and screamed at Michael, Michael McDowell.” Dhani repeated his name in case the captain didn’t know him.

“He followed me out to where I was working and it was then that I had my first taste of death. It wasn’t for too long. The doctors here were quick in restoring me back to full health. But I hated them for it. Dying was such an escape, such a relief. I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to stay with the stars. I remembered it you see. The comfort..” she stood up and walked to the window, “the unconditional love.” She stood and stared out into the darkness. Into what she had been, the places she saw the memories of what was. Her hand reached up and pressed against the window. She felt the ship vibrating through the union of flesh and glass.

“Then at Quinten, it happened again. The ship flew into the rift, and I knew what was coming. I was waiting for the stars to surround me. To take away all the pain and fear. I held my own hand… I stared into my own eyes.. the eyes of death. And I felt my every molecule as they were ripped apart and scattered across the entire distance of the rift. I felt it twice, as myself, and as Naut. And then there was nothing but the darkness. Nauts darkness, clouding me. I couldn’t escape her. She was everywhere and so were her memories. The crew were all dead, walking skeletons, burned chard flesh hanging from their bones. Down every corridor, in every room….” She stopped as she felt the emotion overwhelm her. Tears prickled her eyes.

After a moment she continued, “To free myself I had to kill her. I had to remove her from my mind…. I had to kill myself. That was the fourth time that I died on this ship Captain.” She turned to face him, stepping forward from the shadows, “Fifth time was at Havras. Sixth time, on Trill.” Her eyes darkened as she fixed her gaze on him.

“Is there anyone on this ship that can understand that, Sir?” she didn’t mean to speak harshly, but she was trying extremely hard not to break down in front of him. These events, no matter how hard she had tried to push them all away, still lingered in her mind, like the stench of three day old spilt milk. She could cover it up with air freshener, she could scrub till judgment day, but still the only way to truly get rid of the smell was to throw out the carpet.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant, certainly not in the same way that you do, as I said before. But I think that you might be surprised at what some of the people aboard this ship would understand if you take the time to find out. Talk to Counselor Dallas, talk to the people she sends you to and see, and you might find more understanding than you expect.” Daren looked at her for a moment. “But before you do that, take the rest of the day for yourself.”

Dhani erupted in a half laugh, “I haven’t even been able to work yet. O’Shea wasn’t too happy with me just walking back into engineering. She wont let me return to work until I have had my identity verified and a scientific explanation on how I just came back to life!” she replied not even bothering to disguise the sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh?” Daren frowned. “I’ll take care of that, Lieutenant.” He tapped a few words out on his LCARS interface. “You’ve been cleared by Starfleet, and that’s good enough for me unless demonstrated otherwise.” The interface signalled a delivered message with a ‘beep.’ “You take care of yourself today – and report to work in the morning.” He looked at her and then at the stars outside his window that kept drawing her gaze. “For what it’s worth, Lieutenant,” he offered quietly. “I don’t think that you were, in truth, dead on those occasions. Death is final, absolute. When you move and Allah – whatever you may call him or her – sends you to the reward or punishment that you have earned for yourself, there’s no coming back. Since I doubt that serving aboard the Galaxy is your idea of Heaven, and I see nothing that makes me think you deserve Hell, I can only conclude, for my part, that you were not dead. Not truly.”

He stood. “I don’t know if that helps, Lieutenant, or if this will, but I’m going to say it too: Welcome back aboard.” He offered her his hand.

Dhani smiled, “The Galaxy’s not heaven!” she teased. Taking his hand she shook it, “Thank you Sir.” said, “Thank you so much!” she couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down her cheek and splashed on to their entwined hands.

Her feelings for the galaxy were torn from one extreme to the other. But her feelings for this man...? She would lay down her life for her Captain, but now she would do it gladly.

As she left his office she pondered what he had said… that she had not been truly dead. She was still here, so his words made sense. Cause when your heart stops that doesn’t really mean that you’re dead….. science took a different view on that one. But metaphorically, she wasn’t truly dead or else she wouldn’t be here. That was good enough for now, something to hold on to. ‘Something’ was better than what she had.

“Not a J.A.G (Possibly a J.E.R.K?)”

(This takes place a few days after “An Empty Void”, and *BEFORE*,“Voices Unheard, Visions Unseen”)

Primary characters

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer.

2nd Lieutenant Greg Ward (PCC-Wil)
Blue Team Leader, SFMC/ARC Operations Command-USS Galaxy
Corpal Dexter Grif (NPC-Will)
Infantry/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy

As the day began to draw to an end Dhani finally found herself standing outside lieutenant Ward’s office. She wondered if he would be angry that she had come here last. Or if he would care… or if..

Pft! What did she care what his opinion was? She didn’t, she just wanted this over with.

Depressing the door chime she took a moment to stretch and try to collate her thoughts before facing the preverbal music.

Grif was striding down the corridor towards the ARC briefing when he noticed a woman standing outside of the lieutenant's office with an expectant look on her face. With the recent events of the overthrow of Section 31 still fresh in his mind and the fact that the ship was on yellow alert due to what was going on with Deep Space Five and the ship remains, Grif body tensed for a possible conflict.

"Ma'am, why are you not at your duty station? This ship is on yellow alert and what are you doing outside of Lieutenant Ward's office?" Grif said, his gaze focused intently on the unknown woman.

Dhani turned and focused her attentions on the man. She delayed her response for a moment, she didn’t want to aggravate the man, he seemed tense.

“Firstly,” she started, “When isn’t this ship on an alert status of some form. It’s the Galaxy.” She said as if that alone explained everything, “Where if your lucky,” she continued in slight humour, “a Hellboure cannon will sever the corridor your working in and leave you suspended, with multiple injuries, in the void of space.” She flashed him a small smile.

“And second, I would be at my duty station, but before I am allowed to resume my duties on this ship I have to report to,” she paused and looked back down at the padd in her hand, she wanted to make sure she got his name right, “Lieutenant Ward.” She looked back up at the man and waited for his response.

"Lieutenant Ward is with the rest of the ARCs in one of the briefing rooms getting ready to be sent over to deep space five. We are being sent in behind the initial scout team as it looks like the hydrans and their friends have attacked the station." Grif responded. "What matters do you have with the lieutenant?"

Dhani didn’t really want to air her dirty laundry, she wondered if he knew about the trial, or hearing or whatever it was.

“He wants to question me.” she replied.

Looking at him she realised that that alone wasn’t enough. “About Commander Suder and what happened in engineering.”

She waited again for a response. When none came she added, “I am Dhanishta Eshe.”

Grif looked at this woman strangely, he knew that Greg had been apart of some kind of incident after the Galaxy was put into dry dock following the Battle of Havaras involving the ship's chief engineer who was a piece of dren known as Suder. But that was months ago and held up one finger in a "just a second" motion as he reached up and activated the close-circuit comm that was in his ear.

"Lieutenant Ward, this is Grif. Sir, you have a guest outside of your office. She claims to be involved with that thing that happened in drydock after Havaras." He said into the channel.

+^+"Understood, I'll be right there."+^+ Greg replied.

"He'll be here in a moment." Grif said as he responded to the woman.

A few moments later, Greg came around the corner and he was dressed in the ARC version of the marine combat suit. When he got there, he looked over at Grif who gestured to the woman.

"I'm Lieutenant Ward, what can I do for you?" he asked

Dhani took a few steps forward to greet the man. Holding out her hand she shook his.

“Pleasure.” She said taking a step back to distance herself from him, “I was told to report to you on the incident in main engineering.” She said. It seemed as if no one recognised her, “I am Dhani.” She said. At his vague look she said, “Lieutenant junior grade Dhanishta Eshe.”

She stared at him as he seemed to glaze over. Gees the communication on this ship had severely broken down. First she had O’Shea threatening to throw her in the brig. Then she had to report to sick bay, those dammed security guards never gave up! She had spent over a day undergoing test after wretched test so that they could verify her identity, just to satisfy O’Shea. She had sent them a note telling them that Dhani wasn’t to step foot in engineering until she was given scientific proof that Dhani was indeed Dhani, and she also wanted all the fact surrounding her death, mainly how she had come back to life, obviously she wasn’t one to believe in miracles. So that lead to Dhani having to pore out her heart about the events and what she could remember. They even got Tria over subspace to talk it through.

And all Dhani got after her trouble was a note telling her that as soon as the hearing was concluded regarding Suder she would be allowed back into engineering. Not an apology at all, or maybe that was what O’Shea considered an apology. Dhani shrugged and looked at Ward again.

"Okay, and why are you reporting to me, Miss Eshe? That incident was dealt with a few weeks ago. Right now the federation is trying to track down Mister Suder for flight from the law." Greg said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you informed Captain M'Kantu of the fact that you are still alive?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Grif's eyes widen slightly and then went back to normal, it wasn't everyday that a dead woman crossed his path so to speak.

Dhani sighed. This was getting tedious. “Did no one get the message from Commodore Westmoreland? Or did everyone decide it was a prank of some sort?” she asked sarcastically.

“And there is no case against Suder. He has nothing to run from, and he isn’t running and there is no dammed case. He didn’t do anything wrong.” She said her words running into each other. She really didn’t want to air this ‘case’ in the middle of the hall way for everyone to hear. Obviously privacy was something that this man and his side kick hadn’t heard of.

“I was informed that you headed up the case and there for I need to talk to you so it can be concluded and I can get to work. So here is my testimony, Suder did nothing wrong, *I* am not dead. And if the Galaxy had left two hours later I would have been on it.” She grumbled to no one in particular. Noting their increasingly puzzling looks she elaborated, “I was declared dead by the doctors. My mother and sister came to the ship and told everyone that they had switched off the life support, but I woke up. And I’m fine thanks for asking.” She continued still talking ten to the dozen, “I have no idea why you lot weren’t told sooner. Though my parents were sedated for 24 hours, they didn’t take me walking around and talking very well either. The hospital staff didn’t know where they had gone, and when my parents came too they were too busy dealing to remember to tell the captain that I was alive, also the Galaxy had left Trill’s orbit. So in conclusion I’m okay and there is no case against Suder and all is well, and if you have wrapped up the case then I can go back to work. And we can forget this whole thing ever happened. Right?”

"Miss Eshe, I want you to listen and listen to me well. I was a security officer handling that situation once months ago. I am not nor was I ever a JAG officer, yes I am the SON of a JAG officer but I am NOT a JAG officer." Greg started, his eyes were narrowed and focused on the woman in front of him as he spoke.

"Furthermore, any and ALL legal matters are handled by the ship's JAG officer. If you wish to speak to someone who has a little bit more control over that area of the fleet, I suggest that you find Ensign Emily Fellbaum and talk to her as she is the Galaxy's JAG officer." Greg finished as he watched the woman's reaction.

Dhani couldn’t hide her surprise, or her growing dislike of the man who stood before her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she deliberated her response.

She rolled her eyes and sighed slightly, “I am sorry for troubling you.” She said, though slightly sharply, “It seams a mistake has been made along the way. As far as I was aware you were still in charge of the investigation. And it still *was* an *investigation*.” She smiled slightly, though it was forced, “Seeing as all the data hasn’t been collated, I don’t understand why Starfleet has taken any action. But,” she quickly continued, “I apologise sincerely for taking up your time.” She waited all but a moment before turning on her heals and walking back down the corridor, throwing the data padd in the nearest waste receptacle on the way.

"One Lung To Rue Them All"

(Occurs immediately after "The Right Cat For The Job")

Principal Characters

Commander James Corgan
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 35
Security Main

Victor supposed that he ought to feel something. He'd identified a criminal offender, made certain of confinement, and was going to turn the offender over to the authorities for removal and execution. That was a good start for any Security officer ten minutes into his shift.

Even if the offender was a lung.

He was, after all, about to report that he possessed an illegal organ in his body. The absurdity of one of his lungs being a criminal escaped him, though. He hadn't found anything funny since Mirusa VI, hadn't found anything interesting or exciting, or boring or dull. He hadn't felt anything at all, except empty.

But he was used to that, after all. He'd been empty his whole life.

Now, he'd be just a bit emptier, that's all. One lung emptier.

He'd considered simply removing the criminal organ himself, but decided against it. He was no surgeon and there was always the chance that he'd miss part of it, and that wouldn't do.

He nodded to the rest of the shift personnel as he passed through Security Main, some of them returning the nod and others shivering - that was normal. What wasn't normal was Flight Officer Angelienia giving him an odd look as he moved past her, as if she were seeing him for the first time. Idly, he wondered if that meant she'd leave him alone now. Not that it mattered, but it would mean he didn't have to devote time to dealing with her attempts to seduce him. He had no idea what he'd do with the saved time if so, but he was sure he'd think of something. He always did.

The buzzer at the Commander's office door chirped back at him, and he waited for a response. And wondered if he ought to feel something.

****

~"Well, aren't I the popular one today."~

First there was the meeting with Lieutenant JG Brental. But while that meeting was educational, the inevitable meeting with Krieghoff was going to be more of a challenge.

James learned not to treat Victor with kid gloves a long time ago, but even so James took a diplomatic approach to the security department's loose cannon. It was hard to help a man who didn't want help; wasn't accustomed to having others help him in the first place.

The situation involving Krieghoff's lung was no exception. James had to handle that situation carefully, for it was not just a minor infraction, it was a career killer.

He had to talk to Victor about his options. James wasn't about to give up on his assistant chief yet.

"Come in." James beckoned.

Victor stepped through the door and nodded as he stopped in front of James' desk, "Commander." He noticed that Corgan had shifted the position of items on the desk about, moving the small award statuette that Victor had used as a graphic aid in his talk with the commander before the mission to the Defiant a lifetime ago so that a picture of the Andorian woman he was currently seeing would fit.

"Welcome, Lieutenant." James greeted his subordinate, "That business on Mirusa VI had to suspend our current situation until now. Do you have anything new to tell me?"

"It's illegal," Victor reported tonelessly.

~"No sh*t."~ James drolly thought to himself. A predictable answer, but one Corgan ducked and wheeled from in his mind for a long time. He didn't want to damn Lieutenant Krieghoff's career over a mundane issue such as a lung, and hoped that through testing the issue would drop entirely. Not in this case. Victor confirmed his worst fears.

"You've read my report, sir?" Of course Corgan had, he always read the reports promptly - he was too good at his job not to.

"Aye." James sighed, "Yes I have."

"The relevant section is where I report being held in a transparent cube that was filling with water while Lieutenant Grey had to work a dual-layer puzzle to release me. I knew the lung was illegal after I had to hold my breath until she finished."

The extent of the lung's modifications were yet known. James leaned over his desk, "Increased lung capacity. How much?"

"I held my breath for thirteen minutes, sir." Actually, he thought it had been closer to sixteen, but he could only prove it had been thirteen.

~"Impressive..."~ James thought. Humans could do five minutes, if they were lucky and well trained. To expand his lung capacity threefold held the potential for a lot of applications. Amphibious assault, search and rescue, even the long hikes in the holodeck.

Federation law, on the other hand, was harsh and inflexible at times. Such advantages were exactly why the Eugenics Laws are upheld. To allow one to have an advantage, and everyone else would want it as well for fear of being genetically obsolete. To allow Victor to keep his new lung would open way too many doors for others to follow.

"Victor," James sat back down on his seat, crossing his hands in worry, "This is a very sensitive issue. You know full well the laws pertaining to your situation. If you are allowed to keep this lung, your case will serve as precedent, and that means everyone with a genetic modification will look to you and say 'hey, he kept his, why can't I?'."

"Understood, sir." Of course the lung had to go. Everything else had, internal organs were all that remained for him to lose.

"There is a defense in the Federation Legal Database." Corgan tapped his LCARS panel, turning the screen to show a legal case readout and the profile of a relatively handsome man of East Indian origin, "One case of this is a Doctor Julian Bashir, who as a child was genetically modified to cure a mental disorder. He developed exceptional hand eye co-ordination, depth perception, had a genius level IQ... he was perfect, in other words, on the genetic level. But he was caught, and nearly lost his commission in Starfleet. In his defense, he didn't have a choice in the matter, being a child at the time. His father was charged with a light sentence at New Zealand and he kept his career. Now... like this case, your defense would be that you had no choice... but then again... so have about a dozen similar cases in the past three years alone used this defense."

James finished, "You'll need to bring proof that this lung was installed in you against your will. If you also have proof that it cannot be removed, all the better. You need to talk to the Klingons."

Victor looked at his superior officer for a long moment as he tried to process what the Commander was saying. "Excuse me, sir?"

"You know, documentation, testimony..."

"No, sir, I understood that part. It was the other part that I didn't, the part about not removing it."?

"Oh that..." Corgan said, "You already have the lung. Might as well keep it. Besides, orders to remove that lung would spark a new battle about the rights on your own body... ironically enough it's much less complicated if you keep it. Extenuating circumstances would allow you to keep it, as far as I can tell. But again, any testimony from the Klingon doctors would be beneficial."

Victor tilted his head to the side and studied Corgan for a moment. "Ah," he finally said. "I see, sir." Of course the Commander would prefer it if his enhanced lung remained. If Victor could do more, then he was more valuable to Corgan as a subordinate.

James looked at his subordinate, concerned, "You... CAN contact the Klingons, can't you?"

Victor supposed that the Commander meant the Klingons - or Klingon, really - responsible for his having the illegal internal organ in the first place. It didn't make any sense to contact the entire Klingon species, after all. "No, sir."

James slapped his palm onto his forehead and sighed deeply. Did Krieghoff have to take phrases so literally? "Whatever Klingon authorities tangled you in this mess in the first place, Victor. Please bear with me. You need to talk to... Attendant K'vala, correct?"

"Attendant K'vala plans to kill me as soon as I am no longer useful to her or her Princess, Commander. One does not normally give their private com-codes to people whom they plan to kill."

James sunk deeper into his desk. "You don't pick up on a lot of innuendo, do you Victor? Crash course: A Klingon woman wanting to kill you... that means she wants to make abusive love to you and at worse you'll keep your life but lose your dignity and shatter your hipbone. If she really wanted you dead, she would have attempted to do so already. Remember Exopsychology classes at the academy?"

"Yes, sir, I remember it. They spent my senior year attempting to decide what species I really was." The Commander may have enjoyed more inter-special relationships than James T. Kirk, and have insight into the mating customs of species that Victor couldn't even pronounce, but he hadn't been there and seen the Attendant's eyes, or felt the knife slam into his side. That had been murder driving her, not lust. Victor was never wrong about death.

"Just... find her. You're a security officer. You have some investigative knowledge, either that or you slept during those classes too. Use some of that knowledge. Ask around. Find this woman, and get her testimony. Your career is very well dependent on this woman. Do you understand?"

Victor frowned. Depending on the Attendant for anything other than a death-challenge was a chancy proposition. "Yes, sir." This really would have been easier if he'd just cut the lung out this morning in the shower when the idea came to him, but he supposed it was too late for that now. "I'll see what I can do, sir, but I don't think I can count on her producing any testimony that will be of assistance."

"Just try, that's all I ask. And if she gives you hell... "I'll talk to her." James shuttered at his next thought, "I'll even talk to... Princess Dev'or'raH..."

In a voice so scrubbed clean of emotional context that a Vulcan would have wept at its purity, Victor answered, "I will avoid forcing you to make that sacrifice, sir. Even with it, I imagine that either the lung will remain and I will be cashiered out of Starfleet, the lung will be removed and I will be cashiered out of Starfleet, or the lung will be removed and I will remain after a reduction in rank and seniority, sir." Victor knew which of the three he considered most likely.

James grumbled, shaking his head at Victor's cynicism. ~"Wasn't I a cynical f**kup like him at one point?"~ He had to ask himself, already knowing the answer and knowing what to say, "Listen Victor. I know your odds look grim, and your record will only help to have you thrown into a garbage scow... and not as a crewman... but you do have something going for you. I've been crucified by bureaucrats in my day. I'd love to piss them off for once and help you however I can. They'll hear from me if they try to throw you out of Starfleet, ruling or no. Ok?"

After a moment spent trying to decipher why the Commander would want to do something like stick his neck out for him, Victor realized that Corgan had already told him: revenge on the bureaucrats that had tormented him so often. "Yes, sir," seemed to be the only appropriate answer.

"Good." James patted his desk, "Then that part is settled. See to it, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Victor waited a moment, and then added, "One more thing, sir."

"Oh?" James said, skeptically.

"Congratulations."

His skepticism was well placed. "You already congratulated me on my promotion, Lieutenant, remember?"

"No sir, not your promotion." Victor pointed to the picture on James' desk, and the smiling Andorian woman there. "On finding family."

"Oh! Why... thank you, Lieutenant." Corgan smiled, "You're the first one here that hasn't cracked a sheriff and schoolmarm joke. Thank you. But..." He waved his finger in caution, "I wouldn't say that the worse is over. We still have a lot to sort out. I'm still trying to get used to this... quad idea. It is like something out of a Robert Heinlein novel."

"I don't make jokes, sir. Not unless I want to make you mad enough that that it's easier to kill you," Victor explained tonelessly. He studied James for a second, and then offered, still in his dead, calm voice, "My Uncle Bernhard managed it, and he was happy with the time he was given. If she's the One, then you'll find a way."

"I hope so." Corgan gave a smile, "She may very well be the one. But I'm not Lazarus Long, not yet anyways. I will adjust. So, how are your Aunts?"

"The last time I spoke to them they were well, sir." Victor wondered why his eye didn't start to throb the way it had every time he'd thought of Rexa and Ar'resh since speaking to them after hearing about their 'House Krieghoff' idea. It ought to throb, he thought, but there was nothing, just... nothing. "But that was several months ago."

"Oh?" James said quizzically.

"I've had nothing to say, sir," Victor replied. He frowned as a thought worked its way out of the void inside him. "I could send them a message and ask if there are things they gave Bernhard to read to help with the culture clash if it will help you."

James gave Krieghoff a sympathetic frown. He too valued his personal freedom and privacy, but had fewer ties to family than Victor. His freedom came easily, especially with a sister who also valued her own. Victors was more enmeshed. "I appreciate that. I don't expect you to go out of your way to do it, though. Just... whenever you three meet again."

Victor nodded. "I'll send them a message tonight, then." He turned to go, stopped, and added, "You should take me off the list for Away Teams, sir."

James was surprised by the request. "I don't understand. You seem fit enough. Is the lung bothering you?"

"No sir, not because of the lung." Victor looked at James for a moment, and something moved inside his eyes, like a creature swimming just below the surface of a dark lake. "There's something wrong with me."

Victor Krieghoff's request coincided with dozens of other requests by his security staff during the past three days. It was more prevalent in species that possessed psychic talents. Humans, for the most part, were incredibly mundane but a select few had the potential. To find Victor among them was a surprise on its own. "Can you explain?"

Victor frowned as he thought a moment. "I'm... not right. Not like the people who're calling in sick - I'm physically fine. Something happened on Mirusa VI and I'm... not right. I feel... wrong. I can perform daily duties aboard ship, that hasn't been a problem. But I don't think I should be sent off-ship. Not if there' the chance of trouble. If..." He paused, and the room seemed to grow colder for a moment as his voice changed slightly, his words became sharper and colder, like those Corgan had heard when Victor wasn't Victor anymore on Breen. "If I have to fight... if I let myself out... I don't know if I can put it back."

"I see..." Corgan was well aware of Krieghoff's violent, bloody past. In that way alone did they ever show anything in common. But while James tried to distance himself from his warlike past by protecting and loving the best he could, Victor coped by other means that even James didn't know. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm thinking about sending the Hazards in. The senior staff will want it too."

He then turned his attention to the worry wracked Victor, "Call me if you feel your control slipping. You and I are the most experienced killers on the ship. No offense, but I'm the only one that can deal with you if you lose control. And I warn you..." James said with a sense of foreboding, as if he had anticipated a clash months ago, and was, worse yet, prepared, "I may not be able to calm you down either. Catch my drift?"

Victor looked at him for a moment, and then smiled slightly, the small change in expression terrible, because it was almost as if something else was smiling with his face. "Don't worry, Commander," he said quietly, whispers of something that might have been the cries of the damned skittering along the edges of the words. "Before we went to the Defiant, I promised Lieutenant O'Rourke that I wouldn't kill you unless I told her I was going to first. Just tell her not to take my calls, and you'll be fine."

He blinked once, and the atmosphere in the room shifted, returned to normal, and he was only Victor again. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"Oh no." James retrieved a random PADD from his desk, "That should be all. Business as usual, I suppose. Carry on, Lieutenant. Have yourself a good day."

Hurriedly, James rushed Victor out of his office, glad to see the Lieutenant gone. On the outside, James was calm as he ever was, maybe even cheerful.

But the hand holding his PADD was trembling violently.

~"Jesus f**king Christ."~ Corgan sighed, slamming the PADD and his hand on the floor to settle its trembles, ~"The last time anyone scared me like that, they tried to assimilate me..."~

MessageOOC: Takes place before: M'Kantu/O'Shea/Grey: "Shades of Gray"

"Clashing of the Minds"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
& lt (jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer.

Small part: Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison

***Main Engineering**

Nara stepped into Engineering not feeling any better. She made her way to her station and went about the mundane, and in her current state, depressing task of keeping up with systems. Bran was understandably upset, and frankly, Nara was ok not being home as much. Her first date (in her eyes) with Saul went down the drain. She had to convince sickbay she was ok, so she could go to work. They didn't understand that her best way to get over whatever this was, was to concentrate on something. Work being the most constructive thing to concentrate on.

So far Dhani hadn't had the nicest of welcome backs. She was beginning to think that it would have been better if she had indeed died on Trill. At least then O'Shea wouldn't be accusing her of faking her death, why the hell would anyone do that anyway? Or telling her that no one just comes back from the dead like that. blar blar blar!

She was sick of it all, and sick of the stupid mission they were on. Everyone was agitated and she was beginning to feel the atmosphere everywhere she went. She walked into engineering scouting for O'Shea as she did. For now she wasn't there. So Dhani boldly walked up to the duty board and began to scan it. She hadn't been in engineering for almost a year. She wondered is she was going to need and catch up training. It wasn't something she had thought about till now. This was going to take some getting used to!

Nara was fighting the urge to slam the stupid console. No amount of tweaking seemed to even out the levels. She looked up and closed her eyes to regain some sort of calm. When she opened them, she saw someone quite familiar.

Rather felt.

Her telepathic control seemed weaker. Not that it was just out scanning random people, but it just felt more open, like before she learned to control it.

The appearance was far from what she remembered, but the aura of the woman; well, that felt different too. Though it was more a clue than the looks of her. "Dhani?" Nara whispered. Walking away before Mei--whose co-dependence was getting on her nerves today--could ask anything.

As she stepped closer, she asked, "They said you died. I...." A small glimmer of joy radiated through the cloud and a smile appeared, "I'm so glad to see you." The joy and smile disappeared almost as quickly as they came, but seeing a person she hoped would be a friend--that she thought was dead--here was enough to keep the depression at some sort of plateau.

Dhani turned to look at the woman. She didn't recognize her at first. Even then, after a few minutes, she still didn't recognize her.

"Do I know you?" Dhani asked slightly clipped. She had enough of people walking up to her and telling her they though she was dead. Why the hell hadn't counseling or the Captain or O'Shea told everyone that she was alive and well and maybe just maybe imparted on these *stupid* people some sensitivity?

Nara furrowed her brow. Part of her hurt by the comment, but a split second later, snapped back, "I'm one of the ones that tried to save you. If I would have known this was the thanks I would get, I wouldn't had bothered!"

"Well I must say you did a smashing job!" Dhani retorted equally agitated, walking on eggshells was pissing her off. Seeing as no one was treating her with any consideration why should she bother? "I died, my heart stopped, my respiratory system failed and I lost nine months of my life!" she forced a smile at the woman and pushed past her, "Excuse me!"

Nara narrowed her eyes, "Maybe you wouldn't have died if you didn't go running off hiding in your mind! You're mind that I and a few others' struggled through, only to find briar bushes! Get over yourself sleeping beauty!"

"Get over myself?" Dhani questioned whirling back round to face the engineer. Her vision changed quickly as her eyes narrowed on the woman. She could see the pain in Nara's head just like the pain in Brian's; a gold sliver wrapped around her 'life threads'. She took hold of it and fed it, fuelled it with her anger; intensifying Nara's pain.

She was shocked and frightened, yet all this was minimal compared to the other emotion she was feeling. As Nara staggered backwards trying not to hold her head, Dhani advanced.

"Do you really think I had a choice in the matter?" she asked enraged, "Have you *ANY* idea what it's like to be bombarded by another's mind? Another persons obsessive thoughts.. Consumed until everything is so garbled that you have no idea what's going on around you. To not sleep in *two* years. To have *no* comprehension as to what's happening to you? To be out of control?" her voice had risen to a shrill as she continued to advance upon Nara. Reflectively her finger flicked, an unconscious reaction to what her mind was doing, as she again increased the pain in Nara's mind.

Nara slammed back some defensive shield and mind-screamed, ~BACK OFF!~

"You think that you're so big, that you are so cleaver, that you are a warrior. HA!" Dhani continued ignoring Nara's screams. Her fear and anger was like a liqueur to Dhani and she drank deeply,

"You are nothing. you are week fool, a child hiding behind Daddy's name as if it were a shield, protecting your innocence and virtue. You *are* *nothing*." She growled as her face was now inches from Nara's.

Part of her wanted to speak small, but the anger was rising again and she voiced loudly the simple phrase, "You know nothing about me."

Dhani continued still advancing pushing Nara back with only her presence "I know what's in your heart. In your mind!" she shouted, "You think that you' re ready to play in the big world..? You think you have the power to play in my mind..? Well you're free to try, child." she threw out the word 'child' as a derogatory term, "but next time you do.. You won't wake up!" she snarled.

Nara, for the first time, used her mind as a weapon as she pushed into Dhani's. She let out more strength for a final shove and walked away. She turned a little bit away, "Now, kindly leave me alone." Nara's voice, however, was anything but kind. She leaned over her console shutting her eyes as she willed the throbbing pain in her mind to go away. It didn't, but she could not focus on it as she turned back to her work.

Dhani let out a roar of laughter at Nara's attempt to push her away with her weekend mind. Lifting her hand slightly she inclined her index finger and watched Nara forcibly lunge over the consol that she had escaped to.

Walking up behind her she licked her lips and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You're the one that brought this up Miss Roswell. What's the matter? Can't finish what you start? Why don't we tell the whole department of my escapades? Privacy doesn't matter to you, so why should it matter to them. Oh and lets not bother with tact or diplomacy or even. shush this one is a secret, compassion, or consideration..!"

Dhani was shouting now, addressing everyone in engineering, after all they were all watching anyway. Might just as well give them a show!

"YES," Dhani roared, "I DIED. I WAS RESURRECTED BY THE GRACE OF .SOMETHING!... AND I NOW STAND BEFORE YOU. A GHOST YOU THINK? NO I AM REAL BUT FIRST LETS UNDERGO TWO DAYS OF TESTS TO VERIFY THAT BECAUSE THE WEEK OF TESTS WEREN'T ENOUGH ON STARBASE 212!!!!"

Dhani bowed somewhat dramatically to the crew in engineering and then spun back to Nara, "Guess what I bleed too!"

"But then you were there, you would know how my blood tainted the decks. so come on Lieutenant.. You wanted to talk about this. how you tried to save me how you played your part did your bit.. you wanted to remind me about that awful day. so what do you want to talk about now?"

In the back of her mind, Nara just thought, ~I was just saying hi!~ She was nowhere near the back her mind though. She was front and center. She stood and yelled, "You think blaming me is gonna take all that away?" She pushed back at Dhani.

"NO!" Dhani shouted back, "I.." she trailed off seeing the commander.

Her hand closed forming a fist. a fist around the glow that riddled Nara's mind with pain. And for now her pain was gone, snapped, crushed in Dhani's fist. Nara stood weakly and saw the commander. ~Oh crap.~ She thought.

Anna stood there arms folded over her body. "So you like yelling?" She asked, then got right into their faces. "Let me try it then... If I so much as see either of you touch each other or anyone else.. I will make sure your ass rots in the brig! You are supposed to be officers in Starfleet... ACT LIKE IT!" Anna yelled. "I suggest you wipe that expression off your faces right now or so help me I will." Anna said. Anna then looked at Nara. "You keep wanting me to treat you better, show me you can be better and I will." She said, then looked at Dhani. "I don't care if you've been resurrected by God himself... you cause problems in my department.. you are not ready for the hell that I will put you through!" Anna said.

~The hell that you will put me through?~ Dhani screamed back in her mind, ~After where I have just been you are trying to calm me with threats of HELL!!!!! You are more stupid that you look. Ignorant, arrogant, uncompassionate BITCH!~ Weather O'Shea could hear Dhani screaming at her through her thick skull, Dhani didn't know, nor did she care. Her nostrils flared as she huffed with anger.

Looking at the both of them, "Now get the hell back to work and out of my sight... I better not hear one more damn word from either of you or I will get security down here!"

Dhani's eyes leveled on O'Shea, dark and unyielding, without taking her gaze off the woman Dhani grabbed her tool kit that was on the table next to them and walked out of Engineering, curtly nodding to her superior as she left.

Nara turned and went back to work as she was told. They didn't need to use their voices or their fists. They could beat the crap out of each other and make no sound. Well, other than one or both hitting the floor. Nara clenched her teeth. It's a wonder she made it to one promotion and how things were going, she doubted she'd get another. She could say none of it was her fault, but she knew better than to shy away from responsibility. You ALWAYS had a choice. She just didn't have as much self-discipline lately. And she was paying for it.

"My Prerogative"

Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison
Lieutenant Jiiles [APC, written by Dru]
Michael McDowell, Civilian

:::Interior Corridor, Deck 12, second 34 beta :::

Anna had walked down the corridor after leaving Paulo in the sickbay. She wasn't so much worried about him now that he had seen a medical officer about the headache. Something inside her knew that something over on the station was the cause of the wave of problems affecting certain members of the crew. Stopping at a turbolift, she pressed the call button and waited for one of the lift cars to arrive to take her to engineering where she was going to brief her staff.

Alright, it was not allowed but Michael just had to take a peek at Engineering. He was an Engineer for 100 per cent, so he couldn't not just walk around on the ship without visiting Main Engineering. That would almost be a 'sin' to him. The lift slowed down, much to his regret. No so much that it would take a few seconds longer for him to arrive at his destination, but simply because seeing Starfleet officers did remind him of his own time on board here. What he wouldn't give to be serving here again. But it wasn't that simple, was it? Not even now his past and name had been cleared.

When the doors opened, Anna's mind was on what she was and wasn't going to tell her people. When she looked up there was a familiar face starring back into hers. "Michael?" She asked, shocked. "Michael McDowell?" She asked.

One look at the woman before him was enough. Still, Michael was stumped. Oh, he knew she was serving on the Galaxy...but, with recent events, had forgotten that. "Uh..yeah, that's me." Then he got around to saying her name. "Anna?"

"Yes.. it's Anna." She said, then shook her head. "Small world after all." She said, looking at him. Dressed in civilian clothing. "What are you doing here?" She asked, then raised her hand to pause him. Tapping her commbadge.

"O'Shea to main Engineering"

[Main engineering here."]

"assemble the Scooby gang, lieutenant. I'll be there in a few moments to brief everyone on a situation." Anna said, looking still at Michael.

[Aye Sir.]

"Now," Anna said looking at him. "What are you doing on the Galaxy?" She asked.

"Me? I came here with Dhani. Right now, time is on my hands so I thought I would pay a visit to the Galaxy." Michael said. He left his little adventure out of this conversation. He began to smile. "It's been too long since I last saw her."

As the doors opened once more Jiiles blinked slightly as his eyes trailed from the Padd he was working on to the occupants of the turbo lift. His gaze fell upon Michael. He wasn't sure how to react to the man after the other night. He was embarrassed? He wasn't exactly sure how he felt towards Michael now. But he knew one thing he wasn't getting into the lift with him.

"I'll wait for the next one." He said curtly looking back down at his padd.

Michael kept a straight face. Not betraying a thing. After what happened, they couldn't get along anymore. Here he thought everything was all right and that maybe, for this one time, life was smiling to him. And then he came along.

"No.. Jiiles get in. I'm going to need you at the briefing in engineering." Anna said, as she moved over to stand now slightly between the two men. "Jiiles this is Michael McDowell.. Michael, this is Lt. Jiiles."

Jiiles looked at O'Shea for a moment. Not quite sure weather to tell her that he has known Michael for years or to play along with her relapse in memory and shake Michael's hand.

Nodding he stepped forward and reached across O'Shea, extending his right hand to the human, "Nice to meet you!" he said, squeezing Michael's hand as hard as he could, all the while smiling sweetly in greeting.

Jiiles almost crushed Michael's hand. The Bolian was simply stronger than him. Besides, he hadn't seen it coming. He tried to reciprocate the "warm" handshake. It didn't work well. Through it all Michael just tried to give the impression it didn't bother him. "Likewise Lieutenant." He said coldly.

"Michael I'd like for you to join us at the meeting. As a officer in Starfleet Corp of Engineers, I have the right to counselor civilian engineers for their input. Since this isn't a classified briefing. I'd like for you to sit in with us." Anna said.

"Resume." She said, to the computer and the lift continued on it's way.

Michael turned to look at Anna and slightly raised his brows. She had a competent staff, so he wondered why she wanted him to be at briefing. Besides, he wasn't looking forward to be around Jiiles for much longer. Even if that meant canceling his little visit to Main Engineering. "Why? You don' t need me. You've got good people around you. I know you good enough for that."

"He's got a point there." Jiiles said as care free as he could. He didn't want to raise O'Shea's suspicions. So he kept his face straight and his eyes front.

Anna didn't look at either man. "No, he doesn't." Anna said, still not looking at them. She wasn't going to budge on this. "Michael studied at the Institute for Advanced Physics, at Antwerp. I want him there, as liaison within the Starfleet Corp. of Engineers it is my prerogative." Anna stated. "You both said I surround myself with competent staff.. That's exactly what I'm doing." Anna said. "Now not another word about it, we have a situation..." Anna said, saying nothing more as the lift doors opened and she stepped out with both men flanking her.

"Scooby Gang"

Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison
Lieutenant Ella Grey, Assistant Chief Engineer
Lt. Jiiles, (APC of Dru's)
Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer.
Lt. (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Crewman Paddy O'Reilly, Engineering incompetent (APC)
Turan Trelar, Quentite Ambassador
Michael McDowell, Civilian Eng. Specialist

*Main engineering*

Dhanishta sat at the 'pool table' in the center of Main engineering. In her hands she clasped a hot mug of raktajino. She was quite happy for the moment to let the steam wash over her face as she breathed into it. It was worm and moist. A little reminder that she was alive and could feel things. Such a small thing, but such a comfort.

Taking a deep whiff of her coffee she sipped it and then looked back down at the reports coming in through her terminal. It was the usual repairs and schedules and reports from system diagnostics. She was currently running one herself on the back up power grid. With the tense situation it was best to be prepared. Although Dhani had heard nothing concrete about the situation as of yet, she was still going on ship rumors and gossip.

[O'Shea to main Engineering]

"Main engineering here." Dhani replied.

[assemble the scooby gang, lieutenant. I'll be there in a few moments to brief everyone on a situation.]

"Aye Sir." Dhani replied.

Quickly Dhani sent out a message to all the engineers to report on the double. Sitting back she pondered just what the meeting was going to be about and if O'Shea was going to stop looking at her like she wanted to throttle her and then hug her till she couldn't breathe!

Weird woman, Dhani concluded.

Nara, being already in Engineering, simply stepped over from her place around the core. She tried to tell herself that if she could just stay quiet, maybe O'Shea wouldn't pick on her this time.

Mie followed, but a little slowly. Nara had pretty much bitten her head off all day.

As Nara and Mie gathered round the table Dhani had a slight after thought. Quickly her fingers danced over the controls again and she ordered Turan Trelar to main engineering. She hadn't seen him since coming back but he was her protégée so to speak. And she wasn't going to leave him out. Now that she was back she could continue his training, that's if of course he still wanted in.

Ella also followed slowly. For the whole of her shift she had managed not to talk to anyone and she was hoping that she'd be able to get through the meeting much the same way. Hopefully, she'd get a long list of duties to keep her busy for the next few years.

Walking to the back of the room, Paddy stayed away from the engineers who were.. well, more liable to smack him. It wasn't that he wasn't any good, but he just took shortcuts.. Actually, kind of thinking about it, maybe he wasn't that good. Swinging his little hammer on his tool belt, he gave one of his big Irish grins.

Turan hurried to reach the engineering briefing room. The message reached him while taking at snack at ten-four. The message was send by Lt. Eshe, the Trill who first beat the hell out of him for a reason he never really understood then offered him to be his mentor. He accepted but soon after she fell into a coma. Now she seemed to be back and called him to duty.

When Anna, Jiiles and Michael walked into engineering. Anna stopped, being flanked by the two men. She then looked around before moving toward the briefing room where everyone was gathering. Motioning for Jiiles and Michael to follow she strode through the department and soon entered the engineering briefing room where she looked around at the people there. "I promise this isn't going to take that long." Anna said, not even sitting down for it.

As Truan entered behind O'Shea, Michael and Jiiles, Dhani smiled. She was glad to see him again. And also glad that he had come. She was worried that he too thought she was dead and would see her message as a 'practical' joke!

"As you know we are just off of Deep Space Five and currently various people around the ship have been effected with headaches, nausea, hearing voices that aren't there and even the feeling of impending doom. I want to stress to everyone here, if you have those feelings report to sickbay immediately." Anna said, looking around the table.

Dhani cast an uneasy glance at Nara. She was acting strange, and she was moaning about headaches. Though she hadn't mentioned the impending feelings of doom yet!

Ella focused on the table. She'd had headaches and nausea aplenty, definite feelings of impending doom, but as she hadn't heard voices yet could only deduce that it was the onset of depression, not whatever was affecting the crew. She wasn't sure whether if she was disappointed or indifferent.

Nara looked at Dhani and snapped, "What?"

Sure Nara had headaches. So what? Headaches were the only thing mentioned she had. She didn't say anything about crankiness and dizziness, which were Nara's annoying little buddies as of late. Besides, she had already been to sickbay.

Dhani just ignored her, staring back into her coffee.

"Have you reported to sickbay, Lieutenant?" Anna asked, feeling more like the preverbal mother to everyone today.

Nara looked at O'Shea, trying hard to suppress the anger, making the headache a little worse, "I can still do my duty. Already been to sickbay and there's no reason to be stuck there when I can do some good here."

"Well forgive me for being concerned for you, Lieutenant. I know how easy it is for you to die and all." Anna said, noticing the anger in Nara's eyes.

"If I have to explain..." Nara clenched her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes, but looked away. Normally, she would keep a straight face and said nothing. If she lost any more control, she feared what she would do to her. No. At the moment, she would LOOOVE to hit the woman. But there was still enough sense in her to know that would get her fired. That wouldn't be good at all.

~That's been the smartest thing that girl as done, shut her damn mouth.~ Anna thought as she looked back to the others.

Turan didn't dare to look up from the large table and straight into Lt. Eshe's eyes. There was the permanent headache he suffered from since the Galaxy reached DS9. He didn't hear any voices yet. His 'problem' was a little bit more delicate. He didn't see things which actually were there - uniforms. Cases in which his mind fooled him to see crewmen naked occurred more frequently with every hour. Nevertheless, Turan decided to keep a low profile and don't tell anybody about his 'daydreams'. He feared they would relieve him from duty and send him to sickbay.

"Now about for what we are doing regarding the station. As you've all probably done heard, the station is operating on minimal power. Some blocks of the station aren't even operating life support. At present, we can't even get a good interior scan for life forms. Which is alarming when the station is suppose to compliment 2,000 officers and crew." She said, pausing. "At present, the Galaxy's Hazard team is going to be going over with Ensign Slayton of Engineering. Once they deem it acceptable risk. A team of engineers will be boarding that station lead by myself."

"Which means, Ella. I'm going to give you carte blanche to handle the Galaxy. That way you can over see those other projects we were talking about." She said.

Ella nodded. Projects were good. Working was always good when she was troubled. It kept her occupied but also gave her time to think things over, and she definitely needed that.

"In the mean time. I want to begin a more intensified scan of that station. As in the primary reactor core. To do that we need options on how to get it done from over here, while facing the interference we are getting from some unknown source." Anna said. "When we did the refit we installed more detailed and powerful sensors. They aren't going to work unless we can cut through the interference somehow. Any suggestions or question, thus far?" Anna asked.

Dhani was more concerned about the possible life forms on the station, she knew that if she searched she would locate them. But she was still to unsure about letting her guard down. Pushing her selfish concerns aside and her guilt of not helping the counsellor earlier she tried to focus at the task presented.

"We could try to intensify the beam.." Dhani said absently sipping her coffee. "Or we could separate the station into segments and scan each part. By reducing the mass that we scan we might be able to cut through the interference. Or rather with a reduced mass the interference could be reduced.." Dhani sighed at herself. She wasn't making much sense. She hated the fact that she had been away for so long. It was like the part of her brain that managed coherent thought and transferred it into speech had become defective. She knew what she meant but all the presidents had left her mind. All the terminology she knew all the things she understood without question, no longer seemed to be tangible inside her mind. Maybe she should just scan the station with her mind. That would make far more sense than using technology. Sure the other couldn't read it but then at least she would know.. She could help and do something instead of being stuck here, constantly reminded by every shocked glance that she had been declared dead by her hysterical mother!

Nara had closed her eyes to focus on the problem. Regardless of headaches or anything, she sometimes did this to concentrate better. She envisioned the station, likely nothing how she thought, but it was something to help her think it out.

Not yet opening her eyes, she spoke, "Maybe more specific scans." She opened her eyes then thinking how silly she looked, "If we want to find humans, we search for humans, then for the Bajorans and so on. Or search for bone tissue or such. If we want to know how the gel packs are doing, we concentrate the scans on those. Like the piece by piece Dhani mentioned, but by specifics. Either way, by narrowing our search, it'll make the typical wide scan sharper, almost like a lazer."

"Alright.. Dhani you and Nara work on that. I don't want it generalized to just humans.. scan for anything living. Use common sense, life signs of humiods, not plants. Might want to scan for anything like animals." Anna replied.

Nara frowned at Dhani. Oh how fun this would be.

Dhani hid her scowl behind her mug. Why did she have to work with Nara? That stupid little... Dhani shook her head and took another sip of her coffee. This was going to prove to be an interesting day. She wondered which one of them would end up in Sick bay at the end. Or floating out in space, or.. She smiled deviously as her mind continued to lay out possibilities.

Paddy spoke up, "Or banshees."

Dhani blinked. Who the hell was he? And why on earth was he sitting round this table with the intelligent people? Kindergarten was several decks away!

Anna looked at Paddy as if he just said something even more stupid, then he just had. "Yeah..." She said and then looked at Turan. "Since your studding... work with Nara and Dhani. If they get to much for you, look me up and you can work with me tightening the scan in engineering control." Anna said to him.

"Anything else we need to cover?" Anna asked.

~Banshees?~ Michael thought for a second, but his thoughts began to focus on something no one had spoken of as yet. For a moment he tried to decide how to call Anna, now that he was here as a civilian. "'Commander, may I suggest analyzing the sensor logs? I know they seem to be worthless, but they still might prove be useful after all. They could be used to try to determine the nature of the interference we're dealing with. That in turn could tell us what it is that's transmitting these signals."

"You and I will work on that together." She said, turning slightly to look at Michael standing there. "Okay.. I think everyone as their assignments. Oh.. Jiiles.. I want you to hang around and help Ella if she needs anything. I want everyone to work together and coordinate this smoothly... We need to

get this done.. I want it done within the hour." Anna said, then looked around.

Jiiles nodded and looked over to Ella.

"If there's Nothing more... dismissed." Anna said.

"Under the Influence"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

~Chief! Chief Jayce . . .~

Brian's last telepathic call to the survivor he reached on DS5 continued to echo loudly in his head. There was still nothing but silence in response, the final indication that Chief Jayce had lapsed into unconsciousness, at least for now.

It was an unnerving silence, the kind that invited an almost paranoid trepidation and edginess -- as if he weren't experiencing enough of those even without the severed telepathic connection to Jayce. He'd managed to hold it together during his communication with the hitherto unknown fellow Betazoid, but it seemed no sooner had that focus dissipated that the mental chaos resumed -- and began to increase exponentially.

He was pacing now, like a cat outside a glass birdcage, though the object of his tension was not so easily identifiable. The generally calm and clear-headed counselor was reduced to an emotional, indecisive mess. In short, he was just this side of becoming a certified basked case.

"What happened to her? What if she's-- no, don't think that..." Each mumbled reflection was punctuated by a change in the direction of his pacing and a jerky tic of his head. "No, no . . . no, she couldn't be . . . but what could I do? I tried to talk-- did they get the message?" His words continued to spew forth as he wrapped his arms around himself in a vain effort to achieve even a slight level of comfort or protection. "It's cold...I'm cold . . . computer, heat..."

Brian's muffled entreaty wasn't enough even to trigger a ::please restate the request::. But it didn't matter; his unbridled thoughts just surged on before he even had a chance to realize that the computer wasn't going to comply.

"Maybe I should find Karyn, but she'll think-- oh God . . ." The more he thought and spoke to himself about it, the sicker he felt, until the emotional energy sought a physical outlet. Nauseated beyond control, he unsuccessfully flung himself toward the adjacent lavatory . . . two steps later he was heaving the remains of his breakfast on Starfleet's nice carpeting.

<cough> "Nooo . . . oh nooo . . ."

Unable to think clearly anymore, he dropped to the floor, and curled up next to the pool of his own vomit, began to sob loud and hard.

"Matahari's Riposte"

By Atole Tekri (NPC)
And Mika Sh'Sonora (NPC)

Location: USS Galaxy, Observation Deck

~"Alone, and on a Friday no less."~ Atole Tekri thought to herself, staring out at the void of space presented to her from the Observation Deck, ~"Is this what a woman of my stature is reduced to?"~ She added with a forlorn sigh, leaning against the bulkheads, watching the couples and families as they enjoyed their night watching the stars. On their home, their ship.

Not her home, and most certainly not her ship.

Not long had she been on the Galaxy, and longer still by a couple months did she conceive through artificial means a child with James Corgan's DNA. Her actions brought on by desperation for a romance long gone in the eyes of her former human lover, Atole Tekri now had to wrestle with an uncertain future, aboard a vessel where she didn't really belong, with people who would rather see her gone.

Either that or face her parent's wishes for a proper suitor, and a life more mundane than what she was used to.

Her choices were not very palatable, but she choose the Galaxy despite its alien coldness, among a people who treated her cordially enough on the outside, but viewed her with such a suspicion as to believe that trust was an impossible dream. The Galaxy had what her home planet didn't, and that was a glimmer of hope. On Romulus, he could expect a husband and a decent estate. Her parents were rich, if not yet prestigious, and their dowry would provide a more than comfortable upbringing for her child. The downside was her family. Her father and mother did not choose well with each other, and cared to marry her to a high ranked socialite fop, rather than a decent man, for their own purposes. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted hope. She wanted James to acknowledge her one more time, cradle her in his strong arms, to protect her from the gathering storms of her people. She wanted hope. She wanted James. And as her belly, barely showing in its 4th month, started to grow, s he needed James protection and warmth even more.

Would he give what she needed to her? Unlike Tekri, James distanced himself from their relationship. He found a new lover, a scrawny twig of an Andorian barely worthy of her anybody's attention.

An alien ship, and people who knew of her and kept on the defensive. No help, no love, not yet.

There was still hope. Tekri still had a plan, and if she knew James, his compassion would lend an opportunity for a second chance. Not only that, she had two reasons to try. One was for herself. The other, for Nuhir.

Nuhir i-Stelam Tekri Corgan. The name itself warmed her heart as her hands rested on her stomach. Her half-romulan, half-human child would be called Nuhir, or 'she who is accepted among others'. It was Atole's hope that Nuhir would be accepted by both her people and James. I-Stelam was her birthplace. If she were to be born on Romulus, her second name would be quite different, maybe i-Gallic, after the town where her family's small estate resided. If she had her way, Nuhir would be starborne, like her father.

Nuhir would need a father. A Romulan father would do. Even a courtly dandy eventually turned into a nurturing and caring father, for family and upbringing on Romulus was borderline sacred. But somehow, a boorish fop of a Romulan man didn't compare to James. James had a fearsomeness and protectiveness that drew Tekri in. He was, in her eyes, an amalgam of wild ferocity and civilized tact, reserving pleasantries for those under his care, and wrath for those in his way. The best she could compare the enigmatic human was to a hunting beast. Loyal to its charges, affectionate to its masters... and a danger to his enemies.

What man can compare to all that?

Tekri let her mind drift on about James. Even his blonde, ruffled hair and crystal blue eyes set her heart afire, while keeping the rugged looks subdued and refined with the voice of a naval man, clipped and clear but with a harshness of breath that lent itself well to curses, and glasses that made him look educated or deadly, whatever his mood.

It also helped that James was an affectionate, attentive lover.

The only fault Tekri could see in him was that his passions were hard to rouse. He seemed to overcompensate for a fiery mood, restraining himself too much or allowing himself so little for the sake of selflessness. Even when James wanted Tekri to leave the ship, it was all about the child's well being, and not his own misgivings. But Tekri knew how to arouse his passions. The combination of a Romulan spymistress and a Human security chief sparked confrontations that were explosive in more ways than one.

How she wanted to be with James now.

Only he was on a mission, and nobody knew when the mission would be completed.

That left Tekri alone on a Friday night, her child incubating in her belly, pining away for a lover whom may never give her another chance.

"Hell." She cursed in Romulan, just to relieve tension. She still had hope.

Tired of staring at the empty stars, Atole Tekri decided to leave the Observation Deck. It was on her way to the turbolift, backing away from the portholes, that a small shape bumped into her back.

By coincidence, for there would be no realistic chance of a willing encounter, Mika Sh'Sonora was on the Galaxy, sans boyfriend and security chief. With nothing else left to do, and with James being hours away, Mika had yet to explore the vast capital ship for herself. She set about to do this, starting her evening at Ten Forward and discovering from there what to do next. Her neighbours at the next table suggested she try the view at the observation deck.

By luck did they manage to avoid each other during the past month or so.

Lucky they were no longer. Mika bumped into Tekri, and before she could apologize for her clumsiness, came eye to eye with the Romulan.

Baleful stares were cast at each other, the electricity of their hatred sparking off in the one moment of dread silence. Imaginary demons took seats on the deck, brought out fiddles, pipes, trumpets and organs, and played war marches of the armies of armaggeddon. Their hatred was no secret. Mika resented Tekri's interference, while Tekri looked down on Mika like a child. They were the two generals of rival superpowers, with weapons of mass destruction bristling on their borders, waiting for them to push the big... red... button and set the demons to their dreadful music in a flame addled cavalcade of unholy violence.

"I'm sorry." Mika said sweetly, as artificial as aspartame. "Forgive me of my intrusion, Miss Tekri. I meant not to interrupt you."

Tekri's wintery response twitched her razor sharp eyebrow, "Oh no, forgive me, Miss Sh'Sonora. It was my fault. My mind was preoccupied. I shall leave."

"Oh no, I cannot ask you do to that!" Mika bowed to Tekri, her smile like a mouthful of daggers, "We must talk. Come. Sit. Let us watch the stars together."

Tekri, on the defensive, her neckhairs bristling as sharp as cacti needles, let herself be led by the smaller, serene Andorian. She was a diplomat by training, and a teacher by vocation. Both needed a superhuman amount of patience and calm, which Mika exhibited well. But even her appearance was an eye. The hurricane around her was as devastating as any weapon.

But even Tekri knew that Mika held some weaknesses. Rather than a frontal assault, Tekri resolved to wait and probe. She hated that blue skinned woman. Hated her for being uglier, shorter, less shapely, and still with all those disadvantages... hated her more for stealing her man. And worse, she wore her air of serenity like a smug blanket, setting herself apart from everyone else in the room with a false sense of moral superiority. Lies! Tekri saw her grovel in an obscure kitchen in New Orleans. She watched Mika tear her uniform and pull her hair after a light insulting. Even now she was no high ranking bureaucrat, but a schoolteacher on a starship. She was not superior. Tekri wanted the little princess torn down from whatever pedestal she stood on.

"Yes?" Atole Tekri probed, "You want to talk, correct? I assume that we have much to discuss."

Mika nodded, leading Tekri to a table by a porthole, the same one Atole used earlier, "Yes I do." She spoke in a tiny, quiet voice, "I want to know if you are well, and if the baby is ok. Our history is... bleak. ~"An understatement if I ever made one."~ But I bear no malice towards your child. She is, after all, my boyfriend's daughter."

"Oh." Tekri said with a deflated sigh. "My baby is doing well. She will be very healthy and strong when she is born. It seems that my genes, combined with James, creates a robust being. I have no doubts to this."

~"Manipulating genes at a fertility clinic increases your odds too, does it not, Tekri? Like manipulating the wheel at a Dabo table."~ Mika sourly thought, but then said like distilled sunshine, "I am happy to hear this. Despite our present circumstances, James is excited to hear about his daughter. I too share this joy. I adore children."

"That is why you are a schoolteacher." Tekri pointed out, ~"Damn her! Why should she try to share any joy in this? This is my child, James' child. She is an outsider. She has no right!"~

"Partially." Mika smiled her first honest smile of the conversation.

Tekri saw her opening. "On Romulus, we hold education dearly. Our educators are professionals. They are tested rigorously, and if their sense of purpose waivers they are easily found out and sent away to do another job. If a teacher does not do her job with a sense of purpose and a love for her profession, then she is not an effective teacher. Do you love your job?"

"I do." Mika peeped, "Very much so, Miss Tekri. I always thought that if I could not become an ambassador, I would become a schoolteacher. But I became a teacher on this ship not only because I am interested but also because of James. I wanted to be closer to him."

Tekri winced, "Then the reason you are here is no more noble than mine, Mika. I too came for James. Now I stay because of my child."

Mika sympathised, "Then I'm sorry. I really am. It must be heartbreaking for you to see him with me."

Tekri felt an extra twist in her heart. She didn't expect Mika to be so forward! "It does hurt, but I am strong. I will move on, for my daughter's sake. But Mika," Atole turned dark for a second, "What is your planned future with James?"

Mika instantly turned to smiles. "I want to start a Quad with him. In a few years I may start a human wedding, then find others of my kind to join in our partnership. I also hope to have children someday, like you."

"With James?"

Mika froze, icicles seizing her heart. "I... cannot."

~"There!"~ Atole found her opening, and countered fiercely, "Oh? And why not?"

Mika answered, "Andorians and Humans are not always genetically compatible. We can mate... but offspring is said to be a one in a billion possibility. I am of the 'sh' subtype female. I am completely incompatible to mate with humans. If I were the other female subtype... maybe, but unlikely."

"Oh..." Atole Tekri crooned, making no pretense of going on the attack, "And you want to have children... with James?"

A sudden flare of bright blue flushed in Mika's cheeks. Was it anger, or embarrassment? Tekri couldn't tell, but what Mika said next struggled to come out of her mouth while saving face. "I wish I could, but I cannot. If I find a compatible male for our Quad, perhaps..."

"But you love James."

"We Andorians are different! Our genetic differences facilitates a different kind of relationship."

"But you are dealing with a human, sweet Mika. Humans are much different. Have you, in your blind rush to steal him away from me, ever thought to consider that?"

As Tekri's point drove home, Mika's calm finally broke. She said in a slow, simmering, hatred filled hiss, "How dare you..."

"How dare I warn you of the differences between your race and a human. Yes, how dare me." Tekri laughed, to Mika's consternation, and told her frankly in a heavily accented Romulan croon. "I will dispel your childish, naïve assumptions as James has dispelled mine. A human is different from you. Humans are an ambitious, energetic race. What they lack in close knit family dynamics they make up for in close, one on one relationships. Friends, lovers, husbands and wives, a human is most loyal and attentive. Spread that attention too thin and they either have not enough love, or start to question that they should love in the first place. They can only handle one best friend, one close lover, and any more and they turn loathsome... or the have to choose. Humans are naturally monogamous. They love to shower love on one partner, one family unit, one ideal. Always one... never four."

Mika doubted, "James does love me. He will understand."

But Tekri argued, "Watching you love another man in your twisted little polygamous Quad would tear James to pieces and leave him jealous."

"He will understand!"

"How do you know?!" Tekri leaned forward, rapping her fingernails on the table, seeing the uncertainty in Mika's face, "You don't know, do you? You never bothered to ask. You assume so much, don't you? Tell me... how did he feel when he first saw our child?"

Mika's face scrunched, "He was angry at first, but then he was happy."

"He was happy. Humans are particular about their lineage being passed on, you know. They like to know that somehow they will live on through their offspring. He was happy to have a daughter because that assures him that his lineage will live on.

Tekri leaned closer, nose to nose with the Andorian, feeling each other's hot breath on their face, "How do you plan on passing on his legacy, rutting against another man of your race, while he wonders why he wasn't enough for you."

"Cut to the point!" Mika's palm slapped the table, her body bolted upright, her eyes flickering in cold anger, and "You are telling me that you can give James what I can't Children. Desendants. Can you give him your love too?"

"Oh..." Tekri giggled, enjoying twisting Mika's heart piece by piece, "It is more than that. I can love him exclusively, and still give him children. You can do neither."

She rose out of her table. Now she was ready to leave, her counterattack, her riposte scoring a deep wound in Mika's heart. The damage was done. Atole Tekri won the day. She now wanted to leave, and let the blue skinned freak worry herself in circles.

Mika would not let the issue rest.

"Tekri!" She called out testily, "What makes you think he wants any children, much less yours?"

~"You won't let it rest, will you silly girl?"~ Tekri thought, ~"Fine, one final jab, then I will leave."~

Tekri said, "You saw how he felt when he saw Nuhir. If you still have any doubts after that, ask him yourself." ~"Game, set, match. I win."~

Atole didn't bother to look back at Mika. She didn't care how hurt the woman was, or if she was driving back hot, angry tears to save face in front of passing humans. She didn't want to see Mika embarrass herself by launching into a verbal tirade, or a flustered assault. She left Mika no chance to reclaim her dignity, or even win another match of words. Atole walked away, a thin, foxlike smile on her face and a chuckle escaping her lips.

She thought, ~"Let the smug little b*tch mull that over for awhile."~

"And now for a word"

Featuring:
2nd LT Greg Ward
Blue Team Commander/ARC Operations Leader SFMC-USS Galaxy

Ensign Katrin Youngblood
Operations Officer-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Ensign Eytan
Medical Officer-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Ensign Teryn Wilat
Navigation Officer-USS Galaxy (NPC)

SGT-Major Niklaas Furji
2nd Platoon XO/CO 1st Squad (Red One), SFMC-USS Galaxy
(NPC)

Lance Corpral Grace Waldron
Infantry/Sniper/ARC Trooper, SFMC-USS Galaxy (NPC)

====================================

Location: 2nd LT Greg Ward's Office-Marine Country

Greg Ward, in his finite wisdom and grace after having waited the last two and a half hours after he told his ARCs what was up and dealing with a woman who probally thought that he was somekind of moron, decided that he was thirsty and needed a break.

"Hey Grace?" Greg asked as he looked up from the terminal where he was in his office over at the person who was leaning against the wall next to a monitor screen.

"Yes, boss?" Grace asked, looking over at her fellow marine with a smirk on her face as she uncrossed her arms from over her chest.

"We've been waiting here for the last couple of hours for the hazard team to get back, I say that we take a break and grab something cold from ten forward, you with me?" he said as he pushed back from his desk and stood up.

"Well duh, sir." she said, the smirk never left Grace's face. She'd served with the older officer for the past few years following her graduating from basic training where she was assigned to the unit that Greg used to command before it was merged into the Galaxy's detachment to form the experimental type of detachment that was the Furies. So basically, she knew what he meant alot of the time with him having to say only the barest amount of words.

"Alright then, let's go." he said and he lead Waldron out into the corridor and found that Furji was about to hit the door chime, he-like his fellow marines-was already dressed in combat gear in case the hydrans or their little friends would show up and cause all sorts of hell. He also had a PADD in his right hand.

"GREAT CASER'S TOAST!!!" Furji said he took a step back and this action made Waldron smirk just a little bit. "I wish you spooks wouldn't do that." Furji said with a hint of frustration.

"Spooks? When did we join the intelligence branch, Wolf?" Greg said to Waldron, the smirk that never seem to leave her face actually got a little bit bigger.

"Sorry, Furji. If we'd known you were about to press the button, we would've waited. So, what'cha got there and do you want a cold one?" Greg said as he stepped out of his doorway and into the corridor proper.

Furji looked down at the PADD and handed it to Greg. "Sir, this is an interesting piece of something. Apparentally with the who ha that happened during Federation Day, all of the branches of the service are being reformed due to those section thirty one shits, sir. And of course, our beloved core is being hit as well, namely us. It seems that a one of the ARC units, namely Colonel Everett's Dead Cell unit. Due to that, all ARCs and other members of marine special operations have been recalled to Mars, sir. Namely you and the members of your team." Furji said as he handed the PADD to Greg who took it and started to read it.

"Furji, you didn't answer my question." Greg said as he read the things on the PADD, glancing with a raised eyebrow at the bajoran sgt.

"If you're paying, then most certainly, sir." Furji said and when the older marine nodded and motioned for the two to follow him to the near-by turbolift, they did so and Greg simply said "Oh, BOLLACKS!!!" as the doors to the lift closed.

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

Location: Deck Ten/Ten-Foward Lounge

Greg was slightly fuming when the three marines entered ten forward. He was holding the PADD in his hands as he made his way over to where he usually sat in the lounge. But he stopped short which caused Grace to bump into his back while she was talking to Furji. She looked up to see what was wrong when she saw that three people were sitting where they usually sat in the lounge.

An Orion, bajoran and a human type were sitting around and seemed to be having somekind of conversation. Grace saw that they were wearing the departmental colors of medical, operations and navigation. One of them looked up and tilted her head to the left, "Is there something wrong sir?" the orion woman asked with a confused tone.

"Sir, no miss. I work for a living." Greg said as he smiled and took in the trio. "I was wondering if you three wouldn't mind sharing your spot here with three lowely marines?"

"No, no problem at all." the man from medical said as he stood up and bowed slightly at the waist. "I am Ensign Eytan of Brenari, this young woman is Katrin Youngblood of operations and and Teryn Wilat of the Navigation departments."

Grace nodded and motioned to her two collegues. "This is Niklaas Furji, I'm Grace Waldron and this lunk of a lieutenant is Greg Ward. Say hello, greg." Grace said, adding a her trademark smirk at the end, but when she noticed that he wasn't saying anything, she turned to look at her senior officer.

Greg looked at the brown hair bajoran woman and then blushed a little, before looking over at his fellow ARC. "Um, sorry. You were saying something, Grace?" he asked, causing the younger woman to cover her face with the palm of her left hand as she muttered "nothing."

"Wait, do you have a brother named Jack?" Wilat asked with a questioning look on her face

"Yeah my kid brother, Jackson. Why do you ask?" Greg responded and that made Wilat smile.

"I went to the academy with him, he spoke highly of you, sir." Wilat said as she smiled at the older man as she blushed. *yeah, he didn't say how attractive he was in person though* she thought to herself.

"I hope he didn't embarras himself too badly." Greg said with a smile on his face as he and his fellow marines sat down in the small area and ordered their drinks. Greg leaned back in his seat across from Wilat. "So, what were you guys talking about before we showed up?"

"Nothing much, but there is a rumor going around the ship though. Katrin was on the bridge manning the operations station when she heard that something had happened in Ambassador Omar's quarters." Eytan said which made everyone turn to look at the young human/orion woman.

"Well, it's more than what I'd care to remember. Apparentally someone killed the romulan ambassador." Katrin said in a slightly hushed whisper to the small group of people, as she stole a quickl look around to make sure that they were not being over heard. "I don't know much other than that, but there is already a full investigation going on involving it."

Greg looked over at Waldron who simply nodded, the years of being an ARC trooper had helped to create a way of unspoken communication between members of the unit. This was a given as in the field each member of a unit of the advanced recon commandos would have to literally have to do such a thing where a geasture of the hand or even the slightest of looks could mean life or death in a hostile situation. She knew what her commanding officer wanted her to do. But first things first, it was time for a good solid drink. The navy's security could handle the situation until they got around to it.

Furji was slightly amused by the news of the death of the romulan ambassador, the prick had been rather rude to him and a few of the other marines a couple of weeks back. Those two romulan bodyguard pricks tried to pick a fight with him, Donut, Grif and Simmons but it back fired when the ambassador got himself stuck in the holodeck. It made him laugh to think about it despite the fact that some of the engineering staff got stuck there also, but to Furji-anyone who messed with his beloved core was bound to get the shaft and got whatever they deserved.

Greg on the other hand, took a glace over at the young bajoran woman every so often as the conversation moved away from the mystery that was the sudden death of the ambassador to other things like what did they think had happened to deep space five to a number of other things like just random stuff like the recent baseball scores.

When the group finally broke up when their duty shifts when Grace took the young bajoran woman off to the side to speak about something while Greg remained sitting where the group was, reading over the contents of the PADD.

"Situational Awareness"

Featuring:
Lance Corporal Grace Waldron
Infantry/Sniper/ARC Trooper-USS Galaxy (NPC)

Major Viktor deBeers
SMFC Bouvac-12th Fleet (NPC)

=========================================

Set after "And now for a word"

Location: Crew Quarters 12-Alpha (G.Waldron/C.Rowley)/Marine Country-USS Galaxy

Grace Waldron had decided that she had waited long enough to get out of the so called ARC "Skull Suit" version of the standard marine suit of battle armor and was wearing her standard issue sports bra and workout shorts as she lounged in the quarters that she shared with fellow ARC and friend Carol "Foe-Hammer" Rowley. She was stretched out on the couch and was simply enjoying having the living room part of the joint quarters to herself while Carol was out and about when the familiar chirp and then the voice of Katrin Youngblood came over the comm-badge that was on the table.

=^="This is communications to Lance Corporal Waldron, you have a call from Starfleet Marine Corp Command on Mars, a Major Viktor deBeers."=^= Katrin's voice said and that made Grace reach over and tag the badge.

"I'll take it down here, ensign." Grace said and she quickly stood up and moved over to the wall monitor as it changed to the SFMC Insigna before becoming the face of the human/vulcan major in charge of personnel for the 12th fleet of the SFMC.

"Lance Corporal Grace Waldron, what can I do for you major?" Grace said as she saluted the major after she came to attention.

"At ease, corporal. I'm here to inform you that an opening on another starship in the twelfth fleet, the Miranda. Also, according to the records on you, Miss Waldron." the Major said as he looked at Waldron. "The Miranda is currently undergoing repair and refit following the battle of the Sol Asteroid Belt, you have about two weeks before you have to make a final decision, Miss Waldron. I hope that you use that time wisely."

The major then saluted Grace who returned the salute before the channel was cut. Leaving Grace alone to think about what she was just told. *A promotion and a transfer to one of the primary ships in the fleet?* she thought to herself but then she smiled as she reached over and quickly picked up her comm-badge, tagging it.

"This is Grace to Katrin, come in." Grace said into the channel.

=^=This is Katrin, go=^= came back the other woman's voice

"I was wondering if you had any time after your shift to come and hang out. I just got some possible good news and I was wanting a friend's opinion on it who's not in the core." Grace said in response.

=^=You're in luck, I just finished up my shift for the day so I can be down there in a little bit, do I have time to change out of my uniform?=^= she asked

"Of course, but it's not like we're going to be doning anything truly massive you know?" Grace said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

=^=In that case, I'll be down there in a few minutes, if you put it that way.=^= Katrin said before the channel was closed so that the orion/human woman could finish getting ready

Grace simply smiled as she went over to the kitchen area and opened it up and pulled out a bottle of 2305 Chateau Davoust out of the cooler and smiled. "Now I finally have a reason to open this." she said.

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