"Exploring the Ashes, part 5" or "Sort of Like a Fateful Decision"

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

Location: USS Argo, adrift in the debris field Soundtrack: 'Clubbed to Death' by Rob Dougan

* * * * * * *

"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 ragged, blue-skinned lieutenant 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," the man added with a feigned, casual shrug. At this point, it seemed that he 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.

"And you and your friend... well, you're on your own," he commented, the lieutenant looking up from his work modifying the warhead for a moment to look over at the boy with a devious kind of glare. "You probably have about a... day or so before the containment fields fail around the antimatter pods," the Benzite assured the boy coldly. All the while, Kiel kept his mouth shut tightly against the gnawing urge to reach out to the man. He was obviously in pain, losing his grip on reality, and simply reacting for the sake of reacting.

There was a way to deescalate this. A way to walk away without the need for violence. He knew there had to be some option that was there, one he just couldn't see at the moment. And it seemed he had precious little time with which to figure it out.

* * * * * * *

...elsewhere, onboard the Argo...

Kettch had walked into a trap. Of that much, the Kowe was certain. Phaser in paw, and tricorder in the other, the small, furry flight officer had been trailing after sensor ghosts trying to get a fix on the counselor's comm badge. Still no life form readings. Massive power fluctuations though. It seemed the entire power backbone of the ship was ready to collapse. EPS ruptures had completely obliterated sections seven through fourteen on deck three. Engineering had been flooded with warp plasma coolant, making it inaccessible until the coolant had been vented out into space. Assuming that was possible at this point. Or feasible.

Without a way to access engineering, there was no way of knowing if the damage to the ship had degraded the containment seals around the antimatter pods. For all anyone knew, the ship was a ticking time bomb. This away mission was scrapped. Kettch's plan was to grab the counselor and go. Though, just finding the kid was proving more difficult than the pilot had anticipated.

It seemed whenever he got to within about fifteen meters of the tracer signal, that the readings suddenly jumped elsewhere, or he'd pick up a second signal... as though the one he'd been following had been an echo of the real one. About the third time it happened to him, Kettch had started alternating the frequencies of his scans. The flight officer wasn't new to this sort of trick, since it could also be done with the sensors of shuttlecraft or other small vessels.

The fifth time proved to be the charm, as when the comm badge signal leapt to a new location, the tricorder had been rotating to a different frequency. One that finally caught the tachyon net being projected throughout the ship. The field not only inhibited the use of sensors, but with some artful manipulation could fool them into displaying false readings. But one thing it told him was that the Kowe was dealing with someone else on board the ship.

Kiel was doubtlessly a bright kid to be brought into Starfleet at his age, El Aurian or otherwise; but the Kowe wasn't accepting the notion that the counselor had set up this 'house of mirrors'. Kettch just hoped the boy was alright. Probably chasing after ghosts himself, if he wasn't with whoever was toying with them. God help the person if the kid was hurt though. If Kettch had to bring a body back to the Galaxy, then there was going be two of them.

Or course, to make good on that threat, the Kowe needed to figure out where the field was being generated from...

* * * * * * *

Setting his tools aside, the Benzite shut the casing on the torpedo as the lieutenant seemed about to load the weapon into the launch tube. Reaching over to activate the controls on the launcher, the man hooked the torpedo with one hand as he began to struggle to slide down into the loading chute. Whistling an unnervingly cheery tune as the lieutenant then casually strode over to the computer monitor along the wall, dialing up a diagnostic on the weapons array as the Benzite began to bring the targeting systems on-line. Kiel could imagine the alarms going off on the Galaxy already, assuming they hadn't before.

An image of the Galaxy appeared on the monitor as the Benzite casually browsed the vessel over, as though contemplating where to hit them. "You must realize that, if you do this, you could kill a lot of innocent people," Kiel offered quietly from his position along the far wall.

"Innocence is an ubiquitous thing," the lieutenant replied in an off-the-cuff kind of philosophical manner. "Really, it's a trite word I find," the man added with a shrug of his shoulders, reaching up to initiate the targeting sequence.

"You can see for yourself that our ship is a Federation starship. We're not your enemy," Kiel stated, his voice picking up a note of conviction behind it as he spoke. The Benzite was hurt and confused, without any ground of reality with which to steady himself. It was all a matter of misunderstanding the circumstances. It shouldn't have to come to this. "That's a Galaxy-class starship. There are families... children on board that could be hurt by your actions."

"Well, that I am sorry for," the lieutenant answered snidely, as the man turned his head to watch the torpedo control mechanism load his weapon in preparation for launch. "I'm not trying to hurt them... I'm trying to kill them," the Benzite explained in a deadpan statement.

The warhead was loaded. The target fixed. All the man had left to do was touch a button to send it on it's way. A stubbed, blunt blue finger was already moving to key that last, fatal entry when the El Aurian youth leapt to his feet. The sudden movement from his prisoner caused the Benzite to stop, spinning around to face the boy as the lieutenant drew his phaser. Leveling it at the boy a second time. "This isn't set on stun this time, kid," the man warned in a scathing tone. "Don't try and be a hero."

"I can't let you launch that weapon," Kiel stated in a level, matter-of-fact tone. Nostrils flaring as the boy drew in a long breath, feeling his shoulders tense as he forced his eyes from the phaser pointed at him, directing his dark, deep hazel gaze instead up at the Benzite holding it.

"And what are you going to do to stop me, kid? Talk me to death," the man mocked, his large, hammer-shaped thumb brushing over the trigger. "Come to think of it, I think I told you before to shut up," the Benzite added, as a brief smile ghosted over his broad, round features. "So I guess you just had your last words," the lieutenant stated flatly, raising the phaser at the boy's face.

"It was never me that you needed to worry about," Kiel replied simply, his eyes glancing upward as a small shadow passed over him. A ring of metal echoing as something moved along the engineering catwalk overhead. The expression on the Benzite's face fell, the phaser dropping as the lieutenant turned to lunge for the console behind him. Hand extended out to key the launch sequence.

A bright red burst of light intercepted the lieutenant before the Benzite could reach the panel, his hand only an inch from the controls when he was thrown back through the air, crashing down against the torpedo launcher. The sickening crack of bone sounding as the man's head struck against the solid duranium casing. If the phaser shot hadn't killed him, then he was dead now as the lieutenant slumped to the deck. Kiel could already make out the blood pooling beneath the Benzite.

Swinging himself down from the maintenance catwalk, Kettch landed beside the boy. The Kowe stowing the phaser in it's holder at his side before reaching up to undo the knots binding the counselors hands. Kiel simply sighed. The questions that they'd been sent here to find answers to would remain unanswered. The survivor they'd come to help had instead died at their hands. He hoped that the other away teams were doing better than this.

"You okay, Counselor," Kettch asked the boy, as the youth at last pulled his arms free, rubbing at the wrists that had gone raw from the friction of brushing against the restraint.

"Peachy, thanks," the El Aurian answered, nodding with his head to indicate the panel across from them. "That needs to be disarmed before the Galaxy decides to start shooting at us," the boy observed candidly, thankful for the excuse to draw the Kowe's attention or concern away from himself.

"Then how 'bout we call this a day," the ensign asked in a somewhat more hopeful tone of voice. There was a bowl of some comforting, cold chocolate ice cream waiting for him when they did...

OOC: This post takes place before the senior staff meeting.

"Changing Tactics"

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

Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx,
Starfleet Strategic Operations Liaison
Head Tactical Analyst

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Intelligence Officer

Ensign Nieca Rey'ol, Tactical Officer

Lieutenant JG Chase Remur, Senior Tactical Computer Specialist
Hazard Team Member

****

Main Conference Room,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy

Cass arrived early for his 0900 meeting with the leaders of the reorganized tactical department. To put it succinctly, he was feeling victorious. After a mysterious silence of several months, Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau, his benefactor and mentor, had called to explain a fortuitous change of circumstances that would shake Starfleet to it's very core.

She had begun by explaining that she'd spent the last several months working against Section 31, whose defeat and exposure was now crowding out any other news. The need to keep operational security had, of course, been the reason for her silence. But, she had continued, the events of 31's attempted coup had resulted in her being elevated to the combined position of Director of Starfleet Strategic Operations and Director of Starfleet Tactical.

The end result being that she was assigning him to the prestigous position of Strategic Operations Officer for Hydran Sector, the sliver of Federation space that ran from Starbase 185 past Mirusa to border on the Typhon Expanse. Effectively, he was now the senior strategic policy advisor to Admiral William Valerian of 10th Fleet, the commanding officer of Hydran Sector.

All in all, Cass Henderson was feeling energized.

He'd recieved his orders an hour later. The tactical department on the USS Galaxy had stagnated since his promotion and was to be reorganized from the ground up, using personnel already onboard the USS Galaxy. After a quick search of personnel jackets, he'd made his selections and scheduled a meeting for the following morning.

Cass sat down in the chair at the head of the expansive table that usually housed senior staff meetings. Laid out before him were four sets of padds, three per person, which contained the information they'd need for the meeting.

Feeling a certain amount of accomplishment, he leaned back and propped his boots up on the table. With five minutes left before the meeting, he could allow his mind to wander to more pleasant things, like the oh-so-innocent but oh-so-sexy Ekoma Janx. Oh yeah... life was definately good for the moment.

He didn't have to wait long, as the first of the new leaders showed up a few minutes later.

Nieca entered the room first, or at least Cass asumed she entered, between his day dreaming and her silent stalking it wasn't until she was halfway across the room and in mid-sit that he appeared to realize he wasn't alone.

"Commander Henderson..." Her voice was a soft deep hiss.

"I apologize for not speaking sooner, but you seemed.... occupied." The Caitian supressed a small smirk, only a hint of canine caught his eye.

"It's fine. I was just catching a power-nap," Cass lied, sitting up in his chair and removing his boots from the table. Of course, he'd heard her enter the room, seen her stalk across the floor, and caught the smirk before she'd spoken. Despite his recent years behind the arch at tactical, the observational skills that he'd developed as a cover operative for Starfleet Intelligence were still second nature, to the point where he didn't have to concentrate to maintain them.

Indeed, in the year since his SFI commission had been reactivated, they'd been stronger than ever. He shrugged, content to let the ensign think she'd surprised him. He motioned to a one of the briefing room chairs. "Have a seat, Ensign Rey'ol. We'll get started once the others have arrived."

A moment later, the doors parted to reveal Saul Bental. Ever since he recieved the invitation from Henderson, his natural curiosity was consuming him. Of course, he was not ignorant of the recent shifts within the Federation, and in Henderson's career.

Cass has been, in a way, his sponser ever since he arrived to the Galaxy. Cass trusted his skills enough to man the Galaxy's aft cannons during the Battle of Havras. He gave him the chance to act as a leading Intelligence Officer on the USS Valkyrie. And he was forgiving enough not to flay Saul alive after he helped Naranda fake her death on Trill.

Now, he eagerly waited to see what Cass had in store next.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Cass said, motioning him into the seat next to Nieca Rey'ol, at his left hand. He'd purposely put the two new department leaders next to each other. It didn't mean much in the briefing, but they were going to have to get *very* used to each other in the coming month if their department was going to work up to his standard.

"Morning sir," Saul settled down.

Ekoma Janx entered next, recently refreshed from a *real* shower in her quarters. She nodded slightly to Cass, quickly taking her seat without looking directly at Cassius.

~And that was about the oddest things she could have done,~ Cass thought, managing to neither arch an eyebrow or frown. When they'd last spoken, she'd told him that she'd be waiting for him to come back, open armed, and that he was to take care of T'Shani. Now she wouldn't look him in the eye. ~Maybe she's overcompensating for the chain of command issue that just cropped up.~

In fact, Ekoma was starting to wonder more and more about her relationship to Cass Henderson, though she kept it to herself. She hadn't even tried bringing it up to her counsellor, Dallas, for fear of getting either her or Cassius in trouble... or both.

And then there was the fact that ever since his return from Mirusa VI, with that Andorian woman, he had been... *different*. When the rescue party had been brought back on board, Ekoma hadn't heard *anything* from Cassius, at first, though the computer had informed her that he was in Main Sickbay, each time she inquired.

At first, she had figured that he had probably been fatigued - maybe even injured, she hoped not - and was resting or recieving medical care. After her shift, she had gone down to Sickbay, herself, to see him. As she had entered, though, she was stopped short by what she saw.

Cass was in Sickbay, but not because of any injuries; he had pulled up a seat next to a biobed that had a blanketed form on it. A *blue* blanketed form: it was the Andorian bitch that had barged in on them, the weekend before. She had left quietly, confused, a little hurt, and hadn't really talked to Cass since then.

Cassius was an expert judge of body language and expression. The lost look on her face told him all that he really needed to know - something was wrong. Something had been lost in the translation or misconstrued or... whatever. It really didn't matter what. It was something he'd need to ask her about when life finally calmed down enough for him to really catch up to her.

"Am I late?" Lieutenant JG Chase Remur asked from the doorway, scooting in just under the 0900 mark. She was excited to have made it into a briefing by her former department head, Commander Henderson, so she'd been running to get there early. Unfortunately, this had only resulted in the 5'6", 120lb. junior lieutenant being slammed to the deck as she walked into an angry Brikar operations crewman. The equally angry red bump on her forehead attested to that much. "I had an... uhm... I walked into a door."

Cass chuckled and shook his head. The only time when Chase Remur wasn't a little green was when she was on a mission for the Hazard Team or hacking into a computer. On those rare occassions, she was cool and self assured. "No, you're on time. Grab a seat, and we'll get started."

"Thanks," the embarrassed Lieutenant slipped into the next seat, whispering a greeting to Janx as she did. Once again, she was happy that he was a pretty forgiving leader. Sitting on one leg, she perched on the edge of her seat, eager to hear what the exec was going to say.

"Okay," Cass said, breaking the brief silence that settled with Remur's arrival. "For those of us who haven't yet met," he began, giving a nod to the Caitian officer, "You probably know that I'm Commander Cassius Henderson, the Executive Officer. My background is in tactics, strategy, and intelligence. In fact, I served as the Chief Tactical Officer here for over a year."

He paused a moment as everyone else introduced themselves before going on.

"So, now that we've all met, I have a question. Who's been watching FNS this morning?" he asked, refering to Federation News Service, which was easily the most reputable of the news channels on the holonet. Throughout the morning, the news service had been broadcasting reports on the coup attempt.

Saul swore in Dutch, then raised his voice. "I don't think there's a single officer on this Starship who DIDN'T see it, Commander."

"I think that's a reasonable assumption, given the speed at which news travels on a starship," Cass nodded. "In that case, you are all probably aware that the Section 31 Coup attempt targetted the leaders of Starfleet, in addition to the leaders of the Federation government."

"Aware? As much as one can be from a news station..." The Caitian seemed slightly doubtful about information that she hadn't collected herself. "What is their offical standing on the situation?"

Saul still hadn't seen an orderly Intelligence report about the day's events. He didn't expect to see one in the coming days either, as Starfleet Intelligence was left in shambles following the coup and the removal of Director Illyanovitch from command. Saul didn't buy everything the media was blurbing about, but they did indeed mention something about Starfleet Admirals being attacked.

"The official after-action report will be making the rounds sometime tomorrow, so I'm going to give you the relevant highlights," Henderson continued, looking from face to face to gauge their reactions. "While Section 31's agents were thwarted in most areas, one of the undoubtedly hardest hit divisions of the fleet was Starfleet Tactical, which suffered the assassination of its Director, Admiral Jurgen Hoth."

Henderson registered the amazed expression on Saul Bental's face. He continued, without slowing down. "In addition, Admiral Robert Saddler, Director of Starfleet Strategic Operations, was exposed as a 31 traitor and has been removed from his post."

~Not that Hoth was so much better,~ he thought to himself as he paused to catch a breath. There was a lot to say, but Cass kept his opinion to himself. Hoth had been a very vocal hawk, and one of the authors of the Project Archangel Act that had been pushed through the Federation Council by Councilor Guignon from Noveau France.

"So there is doubt over the virtue of Saddler's men and the integrity the whole department." Nieca tilted her head slightly as she thought about the ramifications of the assination. "How does Starfleet plan on fixing this?"

"The end result of all of that is that Starfleet Tactical and Starfleet Strategic Operations are being rolled back into one division," Cass finished, "...under the direction of Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau, the commanding officer of Breen Sector and the 12th Fleet."

"The Sword.", Saul acknowledged. He, like the rest of the crew, probably owed the Admiral his life. Her tactical decisions during the battle of Havras spared the Galaxy from being reduced to stardust.

Rey'ol nodded her head in Saul's direction "deMercereau is a genius, she's one of the best minds in Starfleet. What are her plans for us?"

"What that means for us is threefold. She's released a document entitled "The deMercereau Doctrine". It's on one of your padds. Part one is that Admiral deMercereau is recalling some of the Sector Strategic Operations Officers. The Hydran Sector SOO was one of them, and I'll be taking his position as this sector's link to Starfleet Strategic Operations. It's a bit unprecedented, given my position on the ship. Which leads into part two, which is the assignment of direct liaison officers to most of the major ships in the fleet. In this case, I'd like to introduce you to Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx, who will be the tactical department's link to me in my capacity as the Sector SOO."

"Now, the part that most affects you is this. Lieutenant Taern is being recalled by Admiral deMercereau. She believes that this department has stagnated under his leadership, or lack thereof, and has directed me to find a suitable replacement for him, and for his assistant, Lieutenant Darkstar. Mr. Bental, Ms. Rey'ol, if you look at the first padd in front of you, I think you'll find it to your liking."

Saul picked up the PADD, and sped-read through the first lines.

It read all wrong. It didn't make any sense. None at all.

You see, some times, the universe is an unexpected place. Strange, unpredictable, ironic.

Some times, it just points at you and laughes.

Saul looked at Henderson, at Janx, and back at Henderson. He could feel the weight of the new responsibility slowly landing on his shoulders.

"I'll do it to the best of my ability, Commander.", He stated.

The only way to explain the noise Nieca made was that of a purr as she read through her orders. With over ten years of devotion to Starfleet combined with her POW status a flicker of excitment danced inside of her for finally reciving the acknowledgement she desired.

"It is an honor, Commander." She bowed her head in thanks before locking eyes with Saul. "I will do everything in my power to serve you well as your assistant." The Caitian's eyes smouldered.

Saul turned to look at the Caitian, as though he noticed her for the first time. In a matter of seconds, this unfamiliar alien morphed from just another name-and-face in Saul's grand mental phonebook, to the person he will rely on the most.

He'll have to learn about the Caitian culture and customs, and fast.

He'll have to learn a lot of things fast.

He forced a smile, and extended his hand. "Saul Bental, by the way... Chief Tactical Officer."

She took his hand "Nieca Rey'ol, Assistant Chief Tactical Officer." Her tail twitched and jumped a little, it was never good at hiding her emotion.

Saul returned his attention to Cassius. "What... what is expected of me, as Chief Tactical Officer?"

"You'll be tasked with leading the ship's tactical department, manning the tactical arch, and helping to develop battle tactics," Cass explained. "You'll be tasked with liaising with Strategic Operations and Intelligence to prepare the command staff for any ship to ship confrontation. Essentially, you're responsible for the ship's safety against other spaceborne threats."

"Are there going to be any changes in the department's roles following the reorganization in Starfllet?", Saul asked.

"I don't believe so," Cass said, after a moment's consideration. "The structure, as laid out in "The deMercereau Doctrine", will change, but the service will say the same. Any questions?"

He glanced at the assembled officers. Both Chase and Ekoma shook their heads. Both were old hands at the way of the tactical department.

"None.", Saul murmured, still awe struck.

"Excellent," Cass said, pushing himself up from the desk. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm about five minutes late for a briefing from Sciences. Saul, keep me updated on your progress. Ekoma, I'll see you at out meeting tomorrow?"

"Of course," she replied, though she once again wondered if their meeting would be strictly business. Her heart shivered at the possibility that his change of heart about the Andorian would forever relegate their relationship to 'strictly business'. And they had been getting so close...

"Great, I'll look forward to it," Cass nodded, then gathered his things. "Read over those padds. If you have any questions, feel free to ask either myself of Lt. Commander Janx. Dismissed."

"Carbon Copy"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

To : Lieutenant Commander Stom / Research Desk 864 / SFI HQ / Earth

From : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Touching Base

Commander,

I haven't been in touch with anyone from the desk lately, so I thought I might send my regards.

I hope everything went well with the Driznok privateers situation. I'm sure the good men at the desk are reaching the right conclusions, and providing top quality Intelligence for everyone involved.

As for me, everything is well on the Galaxy. We were involved in the search and rescue operations on Trill, and from there moved on toward the Hydran border. I know you don't agree, but I think it was a good move for my career.

After all, they promoted me to Chief Tactical Officer. Where would I be if I stayed on HQ?

~~ Saul

*

To : Professor Ronen Lavi / The Faculty of Political Sciences and Intergalactic Relations / Herzelia Interdisciplinary Centre / Earth

From : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Draft for Master's Degree thesis – Saul Bental

Shalom professor Lavi,

Attached is my initial proposal and draft for my Master's thesis.

As I told you a couple of months ago, I changed the subject of my thesis. It is now titled : 'The Hydran Sovereign Monarchy – U.F.P. relations, from First Contact to present'.

I believe this document will prove to be very interesting and actual, following the battle of Havras last year (In which I was involved, as a Starfleet Officer) and its consequences.

My thesis is divided to two parts.

The first portrays the known information about the Hyran Monarchy, and sums up all of our knowledge about the Hydrans (Focusing on intergalactic relations, history and politics, of course.).

The second part analyzes the relations between the Federation and the Hydrans, in an attempt to understand the motives behind recent Hydran actions, and in hope of answering a simple question :

Could the Federation handle its relations with the Hydrans better?

I fear that by the time I finish working on my thesis, the answer will be an unquestionable 'YES'.

Looking forward to receiving your feedback and suggestions,

~~ Saul

*

From : Lieutenant Commander Stom / Research Desk 864 / SFI HQ / Earth

To : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Re: Touching Base

Bental,

I have passed your regards to the members of the desk. Those who still remember you, were glad to hear that you're making progress in life. We are also making progress with the Driznok, and with the uncovered information, I'm sure that their neighbours will put an end to their privateering endeavour.

A personal word about your promotion. I think it only strengthens what I told you when you asked to be transferred to a ship. As an intelligence – or Tactical – officer, you're responsible for the safety and smooth functioning of one vessel. Here on SFI, you can change the entire Federation by making the right move.

Think about it, if you're not intoxicated by your new status.

*

From : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

To : Tactical Department list / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Tactical Department Briefing

Shalom,

Tactical dept. briefing will be held in the Tactical Center at 19:00 this evening.

Your presence is required.

Officers on duty at the time will be replaced temporarily by officers from Security and Operations, as described in the attached list.

- Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

*

From : Isiah Bental / SS Flying Dutchman U3S-6284

To : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Deep Space 5

Shaul my boy,

You're probably fed up with your cousins trying to bug you while you're trying to be a nice little Starfleet officer, eh?

Anyhow, the Flying Dutchman will arrive at DS5 soon, and I understand you might be there as well. I know it's a long way from home, but we've got some fine business opportunities here in the Hydran sector – and heck, visiting you is worth a detour!

See ya there,

E.Z. Bental

President, Flying Dutchman Capital Ventures

P.S. I promise to be nicer than Janny. I heard about Trill.

P.P.S I'm sure you're gonna look fab in those black uniforms, my boy! I was considering a uniform for the Dutchman's crew, in fact.

P.P.P.S Don't forget presents.

*

From : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

To : Ensign Nyoko Yuuri / Intelligence / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Transfer?

Nyoko,

I guess you already heard about my transfer to Tactical… even Intelligence officers can't keep their mouths shut when it comes to gossip.

I have a proposition for you: I need a Head Tactical Analyst for Tactical. It is the most Intel-oriented post on the department, and it requires someone with background in military Intelligence.

Someone like you.

I promised to help you move up. This is it. This is your chance. I'm moving, and I would love – more than love – to take you with me.

If It's OK with you, I'm going to ask Lieutenant Dobryin once everything settles on DS5 to approve the transfer.

~~ Saul

*

From : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

To : Ensign Le'on Khatowren / Security / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Our little thing

Le'on,

Despite the recent events on DS5 and my transfer to Tactical, we're still on.

I'm going to ask Corgan to allow us to search DS5 for McCauley – or his remains – as soon as the Hazard team will determine that it is safe to board the station.

~~ Saul

*

From : Ensign Nyoko Yuuri / Intelligence / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

To : Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental / Tactical / USS Galaxy NCC-70637

Subject : Re : Transfer?

Saul,

OK

>^.,.^< -- Nyoko

Archivers note: This post is not part of the sim storyline. It was an inspired work by the author as a result of events previously written about in the RPG. It is being archived as a stand-alone piece in testament to the writer.

OOC: Just expanding a bit on the assasination of a character I enjoyed.

"The Assasination of Admiral Hoth"

Featuring:

Admiral Jurgen Hoth,
Director of Starfleet Tactical

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

Captain John Zaletta
Commandant:Starfleet Advanced Tactical School

and

Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode
Commanding Officer: Olympic Fleet

Time: Just after "Racing Tomorrow" by Francis.

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

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

"The first advice I am going to give my successor is to watch the Generals and to avoid feeling that just because they were military men, their opinions on military matters were worth a damn." - President John F. Kennedy

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

Captain Xia'Fen, Chief of Staff at Starfleet: Tactical slipped into the room and tapped Admiral Jurgen Hoth on the shoulder as Captain Zaletta finished his description of this years best and brightest in the tactical field.

Breakfast with newly elected President Bacco and the other joint chiefs of staff was next on his itinerary and meeting with Fleet Admiral Bhrode threatened to throw off his timetable.

The last thing Hoth wanted on his conscious was the new leader of the Federation having to dine on cold eggs because he was out doing his goddamn job.

It was no wonder that so many species have lifted thier legs and pissed squarely in our faces. Too many Admirals were busy eating, drinking and schmoozing to get themselves in positions of power so they wouldn't have to make their own breakfasts.

Most of them wouldn't know what it was like to eat powdered eggs and shit in a hand dug hole while phaser fire singed the hair off their balls. If they even had any, Hoth thought picturing DeMercereau.

In any event, it was time to move on.

Hoth pushed himself from the table, said his goodbye's to Zaletta and ushered Xia'Fen out of the room, following on his heels.

"Admiral, with all due respect, your shuttle awaits." Xia'Fen announced.

Hoth eyed the Akritian.

He didn't like the man. He didn't trust him. In the eyes of Jurgen Hoth, you had to earn his trust with results and the Captain had not had the time to do so yet.

"Captain, I want you to stay behind. File some files. Polish your medals. Do whatever it is you want to do."

The Chief of Staff looked offended. He opened his mouth to object but Hoth silenced his unspoken rebuttal with a wave of his hand.

"You are receiving a direct order from a superior officer. You can either do what I ask and sit this one out, or I will have you thrown in the brig for disobeying a direct order. Either way, I'm flying solo on this one. The question now stands, how do you want the remainder of your career in Starfleet to be remembered?"

He could see the resignation in the man's eyes.

"Trust me on this one, Thama. It's for the best."

Captain Xia'Fen snapped to attention, still puzzled by Hoth's cryptic statement, and offered a salute.

Hoth returned the gesture and marched off towards his quarters.

Inside, he opened a secure link on his desk top computer and keyed in the phrase: "A tyrant dies and his rule is over."

He sent the message to a prearranged sender and moments later, received the reply: "The martyr dies and his rule begins."

Seeing the second half of the Soren Kierkgaard quote, the Admiral smiled. He activated the safety wipe protocol and watched as his files were purged. He then connected an EMP chip to his drive, sending a small electromagnetic pulse through his hardware, rendering the computer worthless.

He took a final look at his office and turned with a crisp heel turn of a career military man and marched out of his office, and after riding the turbolift to the shuttle bay he walked into his personal shuttlecraft the USS RUMSFELD.

As was his custom, he insisted upon piloting his own shuttle and he strapped himself into the pilot's chair. He brought the engines online, requested and received clearance to leave port, and slowly yet gracefully flew the shuttle out of port and into the brilliant morning sky.

***** Starfleet Tactical Building *****

Captain Xia' Fen watched the USS RUMSFELD fly out of the hanger from one of the broad windows on the promenade of the Starfleet Tactical Building.

The ship arced slowly towards the sky, then banked to starboard rather sharply.

Too sharply.

Xia' Fen watched first with growing concern as the shuttle zig zagged erratically, then finally in horror as moments later, the USS RUMSFELD exploded, shattering the windows of nearby buildings and raining unrecognizable debris down upon the officers below who were scurrying for cover.

***** BRIDGE, USS ZEUS *****

"Mission accomplished." Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode thought to himself as news of Admiral Hoth's assassination hit the FNN newswire.

To his left, Commander Lysander Vanderpuls Hawksly snorted.

"It will be interesting to see where the rats crawl to now."

Bhrode nodded.

"Number Two, instruct the Fleet to lay in the coarse for K-57. Engage on my mark. Warp 9." he ordered, seating himself in the Captain's chair.

"Chronicles of Narnia."


With Fleet Admiral John Q. Bhrode, former Captain of the USS GALAXY, and current commanding officer of the Olympic Fleet. For those of you who drool over the details (Go easy if I screwed up class and what the ship's design is!) that would be:

USS ZEUS (Sovereign Class Explorer, Fleet Command)
USS HADES (Akira Class Heavy Cruiser)
USS ARES (Akira Class Heavy Cruiser)
USS APOLLO (Intrepid class Light Explorer)
USS HERMES (Steamrunner class Frigate)
USS ARTIMIS (Steamrunner class Frigate)
USS NEPTUNE (Defiant class Destroyer)
USS ATHENA (Defiant class Destroyer)
USS HEPHAESTUS (Defiant class Destroyer)
USS MERCURY (Defiant class Destroyer)


Also appearing: the bridge crew of the USS ZEUS (Bhrode's flagship) and Director Nowlan Phall, director of Project: NARNIA.

Location: Bridge, USS ZEUS, in the vicinity of K-57, a classified research instillation on the fringes of Federation space in the Beta Quadrant.)

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

" The price of freedom is eternal vigilance." - Thomas Jefferson.

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

"We have arrived, boss." Commander Lysander VanderPuls Hawksly said from the First Officer's chair.

The Sovereign Class USS ZEUS dropped out of warp with such grace and ease that none aboard could have been able to tell that there was a reduction in speed. This came to the great relief of the USS ZEUS' chief engineer, who always found himself cringing in anticipation of another emergency all stop, a move affectionately dubbed the "Bhrode Backflush Maneuver".

On the bridge's viewscreen was the image of their destination. A federation research facility with the designation K-57. Officially K-57 was not listed upon any star map. Nor was it in the database of any starship's computer. Few knew of it's existence and fewer yet knew the precise coordinates that served as it's "address".

The gray haired, grizzled Fleet Admiral shot the Centurion his typical thousand yard stare.

The vein on his forehead had not begun to throb just yet, and Bhrode was eager to see it remain that way.

"Have the Defiants establish a perimeter around this instillation. Not one goddamn ship, from a Romulan warbird to a Pakled garbage scow and everything in between crosses the perimeter without my authorization, and I'm in no mood to authorize." he ordered.

Lysander called in the appropriate orders, then stood by for further instructions.

"The HADES, ARES, and the frigates are on general patrol. Any friendlies get curious, they are surveying nebulas or asteroid belts."

Ensign Wink, the portly Bolian science officer with the lazy eye lid, looked up from his station.

"Sir, there are no aestroid belts in the sector."

A hush fell across the bridge. Everyone held their breath as Bhrode executed a crisp heel turn and marched over to the now nervous Science officer.

"Are you new?" the Admiral asked, looming over the blue skinned man.

"Yes, sir. I'm filling in for Ensign B'Lagh. He was sick."

Bhrode's eyebrow arched.

"He was sick you say? Was it typhoid? The ick? Maybe he found himself in the grip of Pon Far and is right this moment racing up and down our halls, humping legs, looking for the one to sate his sloppy lust? An officer on this vessel does not simply call in sick. They do their duty with puke and piss running down their uniform until they fall over dead!" the Admiral barked. "Hell son, I have not shit for 3 weeks! That's how dedicated to duty a man should be."

Lysander, all too familiar with the old man's rants placed a hand over his stubbly chin to keep from laughing.

The Bolian, meanwhile, looked as though at any moment he may faint.

"Relax, Ensign. You look as if you don't know whether to shit or go blind. Because you are new, I will cut you some slack. If no asteroid belt exists, then we simply reduce the nearest moon or planet to rubble - thereby making one." the old man said, matter of factly.

"W..we do?" Wink asked.

"We do. Now try your best to keep up here, and don't worry. I will be sure that you never are put in this position again." Bhrode said, spinning on his heels and walking back over to Lysander.

"Three weeks? Smegging hell, that's quite a spell, sir." the Centurion asked.

"I have been working on adding creativity to my rants, Number 2. Do be sure arrange the transfer of Ensign B'Lagh to the medical ship USS Montezuma. I do believe they are at the New Inca Colony doing research on the phenomenon of the natives' explosive diarreaha. That should illustrate how sick an individual can really be."

"Aye, sir. And wink?" he asked.

Bhrode paled.

"Son, I am a former Marine. I do not take kindly to being asked to wink or blow kisses at another man. I have eviscerated people with the lids of rusty MRE cans for less."

"Ensign Wink, sir."

"Oh. I..ah..yes. Certainly. Ensign Wink will be fine where he is for the time being. That eye thing he does amuses me."

"Aye sir."

"Yes, the eye. Please tell me you noticed how that son of a bitch hangs from his eyebrow like the tits of an aged targ. What the hell is the matter with you Number 2? Report to sickbay to have your vision checked if you are having problems." Brhode snapped with a tug on his black tunic.

***** Moments later, aboard K-57 ******

Director Nowlan Phall greeted Bhrode with outstretched hand. The slender man in a white lab coat had deep, pronounced hollowness around his eyes - a tell tale sign that he had gone without sleep for an extended period of time.

"Admiral Bhrode, it is so good to see you. A shame about Admiral Hoth. He was a man of vision the likes of which we may never see again. Space is a little darker without him. Fortunately, through NARNIA, his legacy will live on."

Bhrode nodded, ignoring the attempt at a handshake.

"Stop kissing the man's ass, Phall. He's dead. Soldiers die every day. Cut the shit and let's get down to the reason we are here, OK?"

The director nodded his bald head and adjusted his square glasses, although from Bhrode's point of view, there was no reason to make such an adjustment other then nerves.

"Right then. If you would follow me." the director stated, weaving his way through a pair of hallways while Bhrode's custom made, Hirogen skin boots echoed loudly.

They stopped before a wide window overlooking the stars outside. Director Phall gestured with his hand.

"Admiral Bhrode, I present to you..the Wardrobe."

Outside, Bhrode's eyes fell on what was once believed by the Federation to be an impossibility.

"I'll be goddamned." the stone faced Admiral said as his eyes fell upon a man made Transwarp Conduit.

OOC: Again, nothing that will impact the main storyline. Just some fun I am having with an NPC to set up a possible future mission. Plus more then one of you have asked me for a new appearance by John Q, so I figured why not!

"Tactical Formation"

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer

Ensign Nieca Rey'ol, Assistant Chief Tactical Officer

Lieutenant Raven Darkstar, Tactical Officer

with... Lieutenant JG Chase Remur, Senior Tactical Computer Specialist
Lieutenant JG Rima Pennington, Tactical Officer (Applied Tactics)
Ensign T'Liera, Tactical Officer (Fighter Control)
SCPO Alexander Dorningham, Senior Weapons Systems Mate
'PO3 Phoebe St. Claire', Emergency Tactical Hologram Mk. 2

(All portrayed mainly by Francis)

****

Tactical Center, Deck 11, USS Galaxy

Saul cursed the chronometer in Dutch. Out of time once again, and he didn't finish half the things he wanted to before the meeting.

Ever since Commander Henderson announced his promotion to Chief Tactical Officer, Saul spent every free minute practicing in the holodeck and reading technical material. The Hydrans, he reckoned, don't really care if the Galaxy just replaced the man in charge of Tactical. They won't kindly postpone their next ambush on the Galaxy just because a certain Lieutenant still hasn't sharpened his skills with phasers control or Torpedo locking.

Oh well, being late to your very first department meeting wasn't a bright idea. Ten more minutes of practice won't make him a better Tactical officer. It certainly won't make him better than the experienced Tactical officers which he now commanded.

It was as though his shoes grew wings; In a matter of minutes, he found himself at the Tactical Center on deck 11.

The usual suspects, the ones who'd been the bread and butter of the tactical department since it's reformation under then-Lieutenant Henderson, were already there, and had been since their shift started a few hours previously.

Chase Remur and Rima Pennington were sitting at the central conference table, reading a copy of the latest disposition report while idly talking about how badly Remur's date the previous evening had gone. Pennington seemed to be paying an exasperated half-attention to the conversation.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Alexander Dorningham, the leader of the department's enlisteds, was busily working at one of the many terminals situated along the outside walls of the room. He was engrossed in trying to get enough parts out of BuParts to make a much needed upgrade to the torpedo fire control system. Ensign T'Liera, the fighter control officer, was standing at far end of the room, patiently awaiting the attention Lieutenant Pennington, who was ignoring her.

'Phoebe St. Claire', who was neither as human as her name suggested, or as ranked as her collar suggested, was currently looking up at the photographs of past chiefs, a tradition which dated back to the previous incarnation of the Galaxy, under then-Captain Price. The sentient hologram cocked her head to one side, her database chugging through the files of the previous chiefs. Commander Von Ernst, whose picture was caught mid-sneeze. Commander Henderson, who looked a little too relieved. SubCommander tr'Khellian, the ever-sneering Rihannsu exchange. Lieutenant Nong, who had barely been around for more than a mission, followed by his successor, Lieutenant Abaddon, the former borg who had disappeared equally quickly. Then there was the current chief, Lieutenant Taern, whose worried brow now adorned the wall next to his predecessors.

This, in her database's assessment, could only mean he'd been replaced. 'Phoebe' turned to T'Liera, hoping she could supply her answer to satisfy the hungering curiosity of her database. "Ensign T'Liera, has Lieutenant Junior Grade Taern been transferred?"

The Vulcan looked up from her intense study of the back of Lieutenant Pennington's insolent head. "It would seem logical to deduce that, as he has not reported for duty, and his picture is now on the wall. In addition, many of us received mail from a Lieutenant JG Saul Bental. It would seem logical to assume that he is our new department head."

"Oh," the hologram replied simply, then disappeared, reappearing a moment later in the Chief Tactical Officer's office, which could be seen from the central room. A moment later, she blinked back out, appearing next to T'Liera. "Yeah. Lieutenant Junior Grade Taern's things are gone."

The doors to the Tactical office swished open and the no-nonsense Lt. Raven Darkstar entered the room, walking sideways as to fit his rather large frame through the door. Being a former member of the Security Department had done little to curb the indian's training regimen.

In fact, he now pushed himself harder to be sure he would still be able to handle any physical situation if called upon. The end result being the man now had even more muscle mass then before.

This and his sometimes volatile temperament made him seem like a giant storm cloud passing through the room.

Phobe St. Claire watched as Darkstar thundered first at her, then actually through the hologram without slowing his pace. He stopped at the far corner of the room, away from most everyone else and - as was his custom, ignored the chairs, preferring to stand with his arms folded across his chest.

The shadows of the room seemed to swim around him, making him appear even more gloomy.

He took a moment and seemed to study everyone in the room, sizing them up as a hunter would do to his prey. When his eyes finally fell upon Saul, he gave the man a simple almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement and waited for the meeting to get underway.

"Eeeagh!" the holographic woman squawked as his bulk passed through her. She, despite lack of a stomach, felt what she could only assume was violently ill. Clutching her stomach, she glared at Darkstar. "Will you please stop doing that to me! I told you the first time that it feels like somebody is trying to crush my stomach between their hands! Does it... Agh!"

The frustrated hologram disappeared and reappeared, one foot tall, standing on the central table next to Pennington and Remur. "Men," 'Phoebe' muttered, "All think they have to be mister tough-guy."

Nieca made her way into the conference room, she gave only a quick glance to the whining hologram, she still had her doubts of it's attendance of actual meetings.

She stood infront of her chair for a brief moment making a quick gesture towards Remur and Pennington that now was the time to put their reports away.

"Dorningham." Rey'ol soft, husky voice rose to a more authoritative tone, the sound seemed to snap him out of his reading. Her dark eyes looked at T'Liera then back at Dorningham "Please take your seats at the briefing room." She held her firm tone which expressed her desire towards urgent locomotion.

The Caitian only looked at Darkstar for a moment, like two predators of the savannah, they knew when and where to pick battles between one another.

Rey'ol took her seat to the right of Saul, only once all were present did she devote her attention to him.

"Very well.", Saul prompted, and stood up. With the last men arriving, the entire tactical department was sitting in front of him, their chairs organized in three rows. There were many unfamiliar faces. He knew Rima and Chase from past experiences, and everyone on the ship knew who Darkstar was, or that there was a Nausicaan in Tactical. Other than that, it was an ocean of strangers.

He decided to keep his eyes focused on Rima, instead of getting lost in the crowd. She was conveniently located in the middle of the second row, so it made sense.

"I called you all for a briefing for several reasons. The first is to introduce myself. My name is Saul Bental, and as many of you already guessed I'll be replacing Lieutenant Taern as department head.

The second is to give you an update about recent changes taking place in Starfleet Tactical, following the murder of Admiral Hoth and the exposure of Admiral Saddler, head of Starfleet Strategic Operations, as a section 31 member." The third issue we will be addressing are the upcoming changes in the department. Don't worry, no one gets fired. Finally, if at any time during the briefing, you have a question - just go ahead and ask. Any Q's so far?"

The room fell silent. There was whispering in the back row, and Saul guessed he was the subject of the hushed discussion.

"Let's start with me.", He said, taking a deep breath. "My name is Saul Bental. I was born on a border colony. The Galaxy is my third post. Up until now, all my roles were in intelligence - field operative, Intelligence analyst, and most recently leader of the secondary Intelligence unit on board."

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, making his final decision whether to say what he was about to say. "I'll be honest with you – right now, most of you can do the role of Tactical officer better than me. I intend to learn the ropes as soon as Humanly possible, and in the mean time I intend to rely heavily on the experience of the seasoned officers on board. Now, you probably ask yourself - why did they bring over someone from Intel to head the department. That's a good question, one which I asked Commander Henderson when he gave me the new post. I think the answer relies in the difference between me and the previous four Tactical chiefs."

Then, he allowed himself a sly grin.

"I'm here to stay."

"I'm glad you've decided to stay with us, Lieutenant." Nieca said with the flick of her tail "But where do you plan on taking this tactial department?"

"We are about to take on a group of rather aggressive ailen counterparts..." She paused for a moment not wanting to scare her new CO, not wanting to tell him that they might have more say over whether or not he was going to stay.

"We need direction."

Saul watched her, startled. He didn't expect that kind of a 'confession', definetly not in the middle of a team meeting. Perhaps it was a common customary for Caitians to tell such painful truths like 'We need direction' blatantly in front of everybody. In Saul's opinion, it didn't improve things, but rather pushed him to a corner.

And that's exactly why he decided to dismiss Nieca's words.

"I'm confident that this department can take out any Hydran threat even without a bossy chief giving directions all the time.", He told Nieca, then looked back at the entire group. "Confident, but not over-confident. I intend to do my best to optimize our combat readiness toward the upcoming threats. I'll get to that later on. Right now, however, I think you all deserve a major update about the current state of Starfleet Tactical."

Saul ordered the lights in the room to dim. Then, he activated the holoprojector, and images from the Miranda's battle against the black Sovereign formed above his head.

Over the next twenty minutes, the Galaxy's Tactical department was brought up to speed about the recent changes in the organization of Starfleet Tactical. It was much similar to the briefing Saul and Nieca themselves got from Commander Henderson : The merge between Starfleet Tactical and Starfleet Strategic Operations under Admiral deMercereau; The appointment of Sector Strategic OPS officers, including Commander Henderson's new role as Hydran sector SOO, and the assignment of Tactical liaisons. Changes of command structure within the new division were also briefly revised.

"The bottom line is that this change will also affect our areas responsibility and inner division within the department. But before we get to that - any questions?"

Once again, awkward silence. Saul hoped that there were no questions because everything was so clear. However, he knew that the opposite was probably true - it was all too confusing.

Behind him, the holoprojector now displayed the new structure of the department.

"As for the reorganization I've mentioned earlier. Basically, the department will be divided to four teams, following the 'deMercereau Doctrine'. The composition of three of the teams will be very dynamic, and there will be a rotation, so most of the commissioned officers will pass through all three teams during the coming year.

The first team is 'Tactical Operations' or 'TacOPS'. They're responsible for the actual operation of the ship's weapons as well as applying and coordinating tactics during battle. Other than taking bridge shifts, the majority of the teammembers' time will be devote to practicing and improving their weapons skill. The officers responsible for this team's battle readiness and training are Lieutenant Darkstar, with the aid of Ensign G'Bat'ea. Both are experienced combat officers which surely have a thing or two to teach the rest of us."

Darkstar's frown was etched deep on his face. He had been fighting his impatience at sitting still practically the entire meeting. He was a man of action and readiness. Sitting in a board room talking about politics did little to quell his agitation.

His mood lifted almost imperceptively at Bental's announcement. While he had little taste for training, he was pleased to see himself in a position that would be a use of his experience and skill.

"Closely related to that is the Weapons Operations team. This team will also include all of the NCOs who are responsible for Weapons operations, on a permanent basis. This team will be led by Chief Dorningham, and the officer in charge is, once more, Lieutenant Darkstar. Needless to say, both TacOPs and Weapon OPS will work closely together.

"The third team is the 'Tactical Analysis Group', or 'TAG'. This smaller group of officers will be responsible for the assessment of all of the current threats. They will work closely with Intelligence, and process all the information provided to them by the ship's Intelligence and by Starfleet Tactical in order to optimize the ship's battle readiness. They'll suggest ways of handling those possible threats, optimize the weapon systems to counter these threats with the aid of engineering, and will develop reasonable combat scenarios for the TacOPS people to practice on. Those on this team will be familiar with Hydran warships more than the three-eyed bastards who designed them. Commissioned members of this team will also take bridge shifts, but more sparsely.

"The officer responsible for this team will be the new Assistant chief, Ensign Rey'ol. This team will also contain the Tactical Computer Specialist, led by Lieutenant Remur, on a permanent basis, and will also include the Head Tactical analyst, which is yet to be named."

"Finally, the last team will be Strategic Operations. This is the smallest team, and will be under the direct command of Lieutenant Commander Janx. Those assigned to this team will aid the SOO in performing her duties, which are mainly to relay strategic information and help direct the role of the starship in the sector tactical scheme.

"There will also be a Startegic Operations workgroup, which would be headed up by Commander Janx, representing Commander Henderson. It will consist of Janx, myself, Ensign Rey'ol, the head Tactical analyst, and Lieutenant Remur. This group will meet to consider strategic matters, with Janx leading the meetings.

"I realize that the fact that Commander Janx outranks me, and is above me in terms of applying strategic plans on the Tactical department, might be confusing to some. I'm sure that me and Commander Janx will be able to resolve any chain-of-commands problems with east. Computer, lights.

As the light in the room returned to his usual intensity, Saul cleared his throat.

"Now... if anyone has any questions, please go ahead and ask."

This time, there was no silence. Instead, the room was filled with brisk chatter. None of it was aimed at Saul, however. Obviously, the members of the Tactical department had much to talk about.

Saul folded his arms. He still had a long journey ahead before he'll penetrate into this tight group. Leading a whole department was several level harder than leading a tiny Intelligence squad.

But it was not impossible.

"Dismissed. Good evening everyone."

"As The Stomach Turns"

(Occurs immediately after ‘Under The Influence’)

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil

Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Daren looked at the message on the PADD he'd been brought by the Operations Officer. "And he stopped sending after this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Internal sensors?"

"The Commander is there, but not responsive. I… dispatched someone from Security to assist him."

Daren nodded. "Good work, Ensign. Is there anything else?" He wondered if the boy had taken the initiative to pass the information on to the boarding parties, after contacting Security. Initiative was something you wanted at a time like this, but * smart* initiative was even better.

"Yes, sir," the ensign nodded. "I passed the report on to the Away Teams, and ran the name the Commander gave me through Fleet records, and sent an image of the Master Chief to them as ell to aid I identification."

The lad, Daren decided, was going to go far. If he lived. That was always the trick, since the good ones were the ones that always seemed to die first when things went wrong. "Good job, Ensign – keep me posted."

"Aye, sir,"

Daren turned back and glared at the station through his window, hoping that this, at least, wouldn't turn out to be another disaster like all too many missions had recently.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 14
Outside Lt. Commander Elessidil's office

As he came up to the Commander's office, Victor reflected that, whatever else was currently wrong, his ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time was still intact and functioning perfectly. Despite a lack of sleep, the fact that he had an illegal internal organ inside him, and was in charge of a murder investigation that might lead to his killing the mother of Commander Corgan's unborn child on his hands, he'd still been the closest officer when the call came in to check on a possible crewman down.

The door buzzed, indicating it was locked when he chimed for entry. Without bothering to wait – what could the Commander be doing (and with whom) that he hadn't seen before anyway? – he keyed an override in. The door slid open, and he instantly smelled the acid odor of vomit mingled with the stench of fear.

Whatever it was the Commander had been doing, it appeared he hadn't been enjoying himself.

=/\="Krieghoff to Sickbay. Medical response for crewman down required. Counselor Elessidil's quarters."=/\=

As he moved forward into the room and the lights came on, Victor wondered if whatever it was that had hurt the Commander was still here… and if it could make him feel something – anything – inside again.

Whether it was the presence of another person in the room or the sudden increase in lighting that Elessidil became aware of was unclear, but whichever it was it caused him to stir from his prone position on the floor. The first thing he noticed was the vomit only about a foot away from him. Then he noticed Victor.

"Lieutenant," he muttered, putting his hand to his head as he sat up. The counselor's head still ached, but the out of control emotion and sense of panic and nausea had ebbed for now. "I- I'm sorry, did I call you here?" he asked weakly. The memory of the feeling that had so quickly overwhelmed him was still vivid, as was the subsequent vomiting and crying, but no recollection remained of anything beyond that. For all Brian knew he *could* have called security or even -- "The bridge . . . I sent a message. There's someone on that station," he started, wincing at the stabbing pain that the quick shift of his head upward toward Victor caused.

"Yes, sir." Victor looked around the room, noted the style of the decorations, and then looked back at Elessidil. Betazoid. The man was Betazoid. Whatever information he was going to get, it had to be quickly, before the Counselor got over his disorientation and realized what he was trapped in the room with. Victor didn't think the Counselor could breach the cabin's exterior window by trying to jump through it, but the paperwork he'd have to fill out later would be tiresome. Or maybe not. Maybe feeling nothing inside meant that things like that didn't bother him any more, either.

No, he decided, he wasn't that lucky.

"Were you attacked, Counselor?" he asked. "Was there anyone else here?"

"Attacked..." Brian repeated absently. "No, no I don't think so." The truth was, he still had no idea what was behind all this. "There was a woman... we were communicating telepathically... she blacked out, and I... I don't know, I got nervous or something." With some effort, the counselor got to his feet, if a little unsteadily. "We've got to help her," he said to Victor, looking the other man in the face for the first time. Almost immediately, something gripped him again, something very akin to what he had already experienced, yet also somehow different. He felt a wave of nausea coming on again. "Lieutenant, I-..." he struggled to get the words out but found he couldn't seem to continue, his heart pounding in his chest. Instinctively, Brian found himself wanting to back away, but attributing it to more of what he'd already been experiencing he remained where he was, and kept his eyes fixed on Victor. "I uh... I don't think I'm well, Lieutenant."

Recognizing the signs of the Betazoid's reaction, Victor looked at the pool of vomit and nodded. "Obviously, Counselor. This time, at least, I don't seem to be the only one to blame. Most Betazoids don't start to have problems until after I arrive." Or vomit at the thought of his approach. Or perhaps they did, but had never mentioned it. Maybe that’s where the Betazoids were all running to when he walked up on them.

The counselor was in too much discomfort and distress to analyze Krieghoff’s cryptic statement. All he managed was a confused "what?" as he felt the coldness coming back into the room.

Without answering the question, Victor asked, "Do you normally react poorly to telepathic contact, Counselor? Or was this an aberration?"

Aberration was putting it mildly. "No...never..." managed to wheeze out before doubling over and heaving his guts out once more.

Well, it was a different reaction anyway. Victor looked down and moved his foot to avoid having it decorated with the Counselor’s dinner. All things considered, he thought that the screaming and running might was a better response insomuch as anything mattered to him any more. =/\=”Krieghoff to sickbay. Be advised that Counselor Elessidil appears to be having a physical reaction to telepathic contact with an unknown individual. Or my presence makes him nauseous – I can’t tell which.”=/\=

Neither could Brian.

The Counselor spasmed once more, and this time scored a direct hit on Victor’s foot.

Victor studied the unidentifiable material now decorating his boot and reflected that perhaps being dead inside wasn’t as bad as he might have thought. It meant, for instant, that he didn’t have to be outraged or upset as so many people would have been in his position. Of course, those people also might have enjoyed the days that moved like sands through an hourglass. The days of their lives.

He wouldn’t.

"Downward Spiral"

Principal Characters
Ensign Artim, Medical officer
Ensign Kio, Medical officer
Lieutenant (JG) 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer
Ensign Le'on Khatowren, Security
Lieutenant (JG) Victor Krieghoff, Security

Secondary Characters
Ensign Hanley, Security

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Sickbay

Kio had not wanted to be examined, the anger told her that there could be nothing these people could do to help her, that she would become weak in their eyes. But Kio still knew better than to listen to the illogical voice that raved on within her. It was a difficult journey to medical but she made it all the same, racked by nausea and shame as the crewmen she passed tried to help her.

Sickbay was a cacophony of noise and people rushing from one patient to the other. The medi-units were full and it was clear to see that they were all suffering from a similar condition. Part of Kio felt instant relief that she was not alone with Lieutenant Roswell although this did little to cure the problem.

Observing the small figure of a boy wending its way past her she called out to him. It was Ensign Artim her colleague who she had not yet spoken with but who was unmistakable amongst the adult bodies that moved around him.

So, the Vulcan that had also recently joined the medical staff showed up for treatment. Just like a bunch of other people. A lot of people had been coming in complaining of Nausea and the like. Oddly, it seemed to start about the same time he showed up. Artim didn't allow himself to think much of it; he had to do his job.

"Kio, biobed 6, I'll be right with you. I have to grab my step stool; the Galaxy class wasn't designed for medics under 5 feet tall." Artim said with a bit of a smile.

The smile was wasted on Kio; she found nothing at all amusing about this ancient humanoid that would live longer than any Vulcan ever would. It had often disgusted her to listen to the fools around her joke about the "kid" in medical, continuously underestimating him. And Artim him-self didn't fool her for a second with his assumed childish demeanor. Her master on Vulcan had taught her never to judge a being by its appearance, once you left the safe parameters of the world you knew and entered the vast expanse of the universe anything might happen.

But she asked him to help her because she knew that his child's body would protect him to some degree from the irrational anger within her. The anger that had nearly seen her rend a fellow crewman limb to limb. It responded to a challenge, focused her strength into a need to fight and she hoped Artim would not challenge her in any way.

She lay down upon Unit 6 and waited for him to return.

"Well, gee, I can't possibly imagine why Starfleet wouldn't be prepared for miniaturized doctors," 8-ball muttered to herself as the little-boy doc passed by, not particularly caring if the shrimp heard her or not. She was lying on a biobed next to some Vulcan chick and she didn't want to be here. She WOULDN'T have been there, except that after the "eptgac incident" in her quarters, she nearly collapsed on one of those do-gooder ensigns in the hallway, and he had dragged her ass here amongst all the other sickly and irritable people. 8-ball was seriously considering just leaving.

~And I will~ 8-ball thought to herself. ~Once the room stops spinning like a merry-go-round on crack.~

Kio, her sharp ears fully comprehending the mutterings coming from the woman lying next to her turned to look at her fellow patient. She appeared to be part Vulcan, nothing unusual in itself but that she possessed a disturbingly "human" sense of humor was apparent. She had not wanted to focus on anyone, allow the irritations within her to begin their war dance again but she found her-self inexplicably fascinated by this female hybrid who she noticed displayed the same split skin over her knuckles as did she...perhaps for the same reason?

She made eye contact and their gaze locked. Here, thought the primeval voice that lurked within her angry self, was a worthy opponent.

~Oh, I don't like this bitch at all~ 8-ball thought to herself as she glared at the woman next to her. For some reason, everything about this lady offended her, from her Vulcan ears to her Vulcan toes. Even her teeth were annoying. On any other day, this chick's teeth might have reminded 8-ball simply of teeth, but today she was obviously looking at the pointed teeth of some freakish, scary vampire thing, and 8-ball as a rule did not like freakish, scary vampire things.

~This woman is evil. This woman is deadly. This woman is everything that is disgusting and Vulcan.~

"What the hell are you staring at?" 8-ball asked the Vulcan-vampire chick. She tensed on the bed, ready to leap and attack the woman at any moment. "I don't know you and I don't like you, so keep your fucking face pointed somewhere else."

Artim returned with his step stool and instruments, just in time to hear the newly arrived Vulcan's smart ass remark Vulcan's and sarcasm were two things that went together like bread and butter. Perhaps she was trying to provoke him; perhaps she was just her species normal overly irritable self. Artim didn't really care. He just wanted them both out so he could wrap up his shift and finish unpacking.

"Because I'm the only one in the fleet, and I joined after the class was made. Now if you're here for treatment, Biobed 7 and someone will be right with you. Now, Kio is it, what's the problem?"

It was very hard for Kio to tear her eyes away from the woman next to her but she managed to refocus on Artim and found his face infuriatingly smug. She opened her mouth to reply but was suddenly loathe to report her weakness in front of the hybrid abomination beside her and this smug child. A fury worked its way up her throat and instead of speaking she found herself making a form of snarling noise and drawing her legs up to her chest so that she sat crouched upon the unit. Others within medical had started to notice their group and the noise level about them dropped as people froze, fascinated to see the staid and already notoriously uninteresting Vulcan doing something so odd. A few looked as if they were about to laugh but were not quite sure if it was wise...

But Kio only saw Artim and the half-breed; the anger told her she had to choose. Artim she could dismantle in a moment, there was no strength in that puny body but the woman...she would give a good fight. Edged over the side of the unit, body arched over as if ready to spring. She could smell the blood on the woman; see the pulse in her throat...

Vulcans were normally quite irritating. Vulcans that appeared ready to tear each others heads off was another story. It didn't matter the species, it didn't matter the lack of emotion, he knew that look anywhere. Normally he wouldn't expect this sort of thing, but with all the odd things happening, he was beginning to expect anything. There was a reason, even in sickbay, the Miran kept a type I phaser tucked under his lab coat. Unlike the larger doctors, he had to rely on other methods to subdue patients. That and the hypospray loaded with sedatives.

"OK Ladies, save it for the holodeck. Just because you're already in sickbay doesn't mean you can tear each others heads off. Now, the quicker I get you treated, the quicker you can be out of here. Now, what's the problem?

"SHE's the problem," 8-ball muttered, never moving her eyes away from the Vulcan-vampire's face. The woman hadn't attacked her yet, but 8-ball knew it was only a matter of time. "Just keep her the hell away from me."

Around that time a human security officer walked in with what some would think was a really big grey and orange tribble. One of the nurses looked disgusted at him and was about to tell him to leave when he spoke. "Uhmmm... Ma'am... Maybe you can help me with this guy." He said, feeling a bit embarrassed at the whole prospect.

"Young man, this is a sickbay, not a vet clinic." the nurse said.

"Yeah but..." he looked down at his 'package'

Suddenly, the orange separated from the grey and the nurse saw that it was a big ball of yarn. Upon further scrutiny, she saw that it had small black scorch marks on the side of it. Just when the she was about to ask what the hell was going on, the grey suddenly leaped away from the security officer and yelled "BANZAI!"

Le'on Khatowren attacked the ball of yarn without mercy. He landed squarely on it and the yarn then bounced off in the direction of one of the main biobeds. Le'on, being an expert in hunting, charged after the evil ball of yarn with only one thought in mind: search and destroy. When he caught up with it he batted it hard and then pounced again, this time trapping it underneath of his small body and then proceeded to give it the batting of a lifetime.

"Ah... Him..." the nurse said, remembering the miniature Caitian from his physical when he'd come onboard.

"We found this ball in the corridors and he then started to 'hunt' it down." The security officer explained. "I had to take his phaser away when he began to shoot at it." he said, looking over at Le'on who'd just cornered the yarn ball under a low-lying cabinet and was trying to figure out a way to get at it, his tail swishing back and forth through the air. Occasionally, he swiped a paw underneath of the cabinet in an attempt to get at it.

Great, another overly violent patient. If someone hadn't told him about Le'on he would have been more then a bit shocked at the thought of a talking housecat. Hell, right now had he not known, Artim would have just sedated himself to save the medical staff some time. Artim looked up at the security officer and said, "Well, I'm not sure what I can do for the ball of yarn, but we'll need to get him on a biobed, or in a cage, either will work. Any suggestions other then a phaser, because I'm not going to try and pet him with a hypospray."

Behind them, the doors to Sickbay slid open, and the atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming colder, as if the thermostat had been set down. A nurse near the door make a soft, frightened sound, and dropped a tray of instruments. The sound of them clattering across the floor echoed louder than it should have, as if it were the only sound moving in the room.

Victor frowned at the nurse, which did nothing to help her state of mind, and kept moving into sickbay. Whether or not Commander Corgan was busy, he still thought Corgan sending him to check on the report of a Security Officer down and acting oddly was pointless. Unless, of course, this was a ploy to get Victor into to Sickbay because *he* was the Security Officer acting oddly.

One look at the tableau in front of him convinced him otherwise. Whatever it was that was wrong with him, the Caitian assaulting a ball of yarn under a cabinet, the child dressed like a doctor, and the two Vulcans that looked like they'd been fighting - not unusual in Ensign, no Lieutenant Hunter's case, he admitted - dispelled the notion. No one went to this much trouble to set him up for anything. A phaser was so much easier for everyone.

The security officer, Ensign Hanley, stiffened as Victor entered the room, and then turned. "Lieutenant," he said, the words a mixture of fear and relief. "We've got a... problem."

"We always have problems, Ensign," Victor replied as he kept approaching. "This is the Galaxy." Idly he wondered what would happen when he reached the three-meter point with the Vulcans, the child-Doctor, and Ensign Khatowren. And if he would care. "If something wasn't wrong, then it would be the Enterprise ."

8-ball heard the new arrival but didn't turn towards the sound, keeping her focus purely on the evil woman. She didn't need to look to see who it was. Even if she hadn't recognized the monotone-I'm-going-to-kill-you-but-be-very-solemn-about-it voice, she would know that Victor was here by the sudden hush around the room.

"Oh," she said. "It's you. As if this shindig could get even more psychotic." She shifted back and forth as she crouched on the biobed, hands trembling from the pure adrenaline running through her body. "We've got the Vulcan-Vampire Lady, the 10 year old-baby doc, psycho kitty, me, and now Death himself is coming to play." She looked away from Kio's face for a split second to focus on Victor. "We should sell tickets," she told him dryly.

"No," Victor replied tonelessly, "we shouldn't, Lieutenant." He stopped and looked down at the Caitian ensign. He understood why Commander Corgan had sent him now, it was a mess that could turn violent and get people hurt, and there was no one aboard the Galaxy that understood violence better than he did. "Did you disarm Ensign Khatowren, Hanley?"

"Y-yes, sir," Hanley nodded.

"Good." Victor looked down at the Caitian again. "No sense making this worse than it has to be."

Kio hardly noticed the arrival of new players in the scene. Every atom of her being was concentrated on keeping her-self in the purgatory before the hell of the fury inside of her was released. But when the woman looked away something fired like a trigger within her, her pupils contracted and she leapt forward.

As she fell upon the half-breed a euphoric joy took her, the rage was released and she could finally make the kill. Nails and teeth would rip this abomination apart, her blood would fill her mouth and then after.... Well there were plenty of options still present if anyone was fool enough not to run.

Her hands connected with flesh and she let out a terrifying wail like the scream of a banshee from human folk law, preparing to fight like an animal, all her combat training forgotten. She rejoiced in the power of her body and what it could do to her prey.

8-ball screamed like a banshee too. . .only in a more terrified, 'good CHRIST' kind of way. ~I should never have taken my eyes off the bitch~ 8-ball thought, even as the evil woman knocked her off the biobed and onto the ground. She banged her head hard on the floor and for a millisecond, the color was knocked out of her vision, and everything seemed to go gray. Her eyelids fluttered, and 8-ball was ready to let the gray fade to black when she saw the evil woman's face right above her. The evil woman was smiling, and oh good God, did the evil woman have teeth.

~I knew she was a vampire, I knew it~ 8-ball thought incoherently, and then as the Vulcan woman leaned closer, her hands digging into 8-ball's skin, 8-ball's adrenaline finally kicked back in.

8-ball pushed the evil woman off of her enough so that she could pull her knees up to her chest, and then kicked hard into the vampire's stomach with both, knocking the woman back into a biobed. Had 8-ball been attacked on any other day by some random Vulcan psycho, 8-ball's only priority would have been to knock the attacker away and then hide behind the security guys while they handled things. Today, though, 8-ball was less than sane herself, and she was pissed at the evil woman who DARED to mess with her.

~She tried to kill me? She tried to kill ME? That fucking BITCH!~

"I told you to leave me alone!" 8-ball screamed as she leapt forwards. She tackled the Vulcan woman and they rolled on the floor, both screaming at each other and doing their best to rip the others throat out.

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"Downward Spiral" Part 2

Principal Characters Ensign Artim, Medical officer
Ensign Kio, Medical officer
Lieutenant (JG) 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer
Ensign Le'on Khatowren, Security
Lieutenant (JG) Victor Krieghoff, Security

Secondary Characters
Ensign Hanley, Security

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Sickbay

Kio was a long way beyond understanding what the half-breed was yelling at her, her only purpose was to stop her ability to make another sound, ever. Finally gaining some leverage she threw the woman from her and then flew after her meaning to gain the advantage once again. Their duel momentum took them across the room, onlookers scattering out of the way and straight into a standing tank of Dhithiumi plasma in which inner ear organs were being grown as an experiment into alien medical techniques.

The medical officer responsible for the tank felt a moment of pain as the tank smashed open and covered both combatants with blue goo and ear parts. Regardless the two women continued to wrestle with each other, finding it hard to get a grip on each others now very wet and slimy bodies.

Artim's concerned look switched to one of frustration when the two Vulcans started at each other. This wasn't good, not good at all. Things were already odd enough, he didn't need a fight breaking out. That and the newly arrived security officer was putting off some kind of odd aura that might freak out some people and probably would send most his physical age running. However, his 400+ year old brain, plus the fact he had witnessed more terrible horrors in his past, it didn't seem to phase him.

"Lieutenant, Ensign, would you mind helping me out with these three...oh no, they broke my ears!",

Artim had been working on that experiment for three years with various organs. That was the last straw. Artim whipped out the phaser from under his lab coat and put a setting two blast right between the two Vulcans, not aiming at either, but mostly to get their attention.

"OK Ladies, break it up and get back on the biobeds or the next shot is aimed better. And someone get that kitty on one too. Now!" Artim was shouting at this point, a change from the usual calm exterior.

"You forgot to disarm the Doctor," Victor observed to Hanley as the medical unit erupted into chaos around them. "This is the Galaxy. Things can always get worse." He turned and looked at the small, gesticulating figure of the physician. "Doctor, put the phaser away and stand aside, please," he requested.

Kio was getting no-where grappling with an equally soggy opponent who seemed irritatingly elusive. Just for a moment she pulled back, by no means retreating but to better assess how to damage 8 ball. It was then that she caught Victor's voice, a voice that assumed authority and was perhaps supposed to install fear within others. But was she afraid? She, by far a superior killing machine would fear nobody in that room. But best perhaps to leave the bedraggled half breed for later, once she had eliminated the greater threat.

She swiveled on her heel, locked her eyes upon her new target and strode forward.

Victor reached out and pushed Hanley back out of the way on Kio's second step, and sent the Child-Doctor after him on her third. There was no point in issuing a warning; the Vulcan bearing down on him wouldn't listen. He could see that in her eyes.

As her fourth step brought her into range and she gathered herself to leap he wondered if he could do this without becoming more of a danger than the Vulcan was, wondered if he should just phaser her down - and then she was airborne and it was too late.

He caught her arm and used her momentum to swing her around and slam her into the nearest biobed, the impact sending a rainbow of lights flickering across the display, She jerked loose on impact, the nutrient fluid from the tank causing her to slip from his grasp, whirled, and came for him again with a snarl that cut off as he sidestepped and slammed a fist into the side of her head while she was airborne, sending her skittering across the floor.

"Back up," he told Hanley and the Doctor as Kio started to get up again. "If Lieutenant Hunter moves, stun her."

"Well, gee," 8-ball muttered. "That's not nice." She was still feeling less than normal, even for her, but her dizziness seemed to have overcome the need for homicide and other general insanity. She had hit her head pretty hard on the side of the tank, and decided, for the time being, that she would stay right where she was. Being stunned just wasn't on her list of things to do today.

Then again, psychotic bitch-fight in Sickbay and decorating her dark hair with other people's ears also hadn't been on the list. Well, that was life for you. On the Galaxy, at any rate.

She glared at Hanley, who kept his phaser very firmly pointed at her chest. "Stop that," she told him, irritated. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that threatening people with your phaser isn't polite?" When he ignored this, 8-ball sighed. "At least move to the side a little. I wanna see Death kick that Vulcan's ASS."

The blow to her head seemed to strike away every vestige of anger from Kio leaving her shaking and afraid. The man she had attacked had been too much for even her Vulcan strength and her reasons for attacking any one that day suddenly eluded her. As she stood she shook her ringing head and a memory flittered through her minds eye; she fought to regain it.

"Activity in the temporal lobe ..." She managed to say, trying to focus on those about her. "Neural suppressors...you must ..."

But suddenly her words seemed pointless. Why was she talking to these people? Better to either finish what she started or curl into a ball where she stood and wait to be killed. She settled her gaze upon the large figure she knew to be the strongest person present and made one final move to attack him but even as she reached where he stood her vision grew dark and she felt her-self falling into unconsciousness. Her last thought was of how relieved she was to no longer be awake.

"Damn," 8-ball said as the psycho woman passed out. "That was such a let down. All that buildup for nothing." She tried to stand up (hands carefully out in the air so Hanley wouldn't get trigger-happy and shoot her) and that proved to be a bad idea. She let herself fall back against the wall and slide down, realizing as she did so that things were going black again. It was her time to pass out too. Maybe she could wake up and realize that all this had been some kind of strange dream, and everything would be normal again when she got up.

"Nah," 8-ball said out loud even as her eyelids fluttered. "Things... were never very normal any..." 8-ball never finished the sentence, sleep catching her before she could.

Victor looked at the collapsed Vulcan for a moment, and then turned to look at Artim and Hanley. "There was something wrong with her," he stated flatly. "She didn't fight like a Vulcan, unless it is her time. They sometimes act like that during ponn farr." "I noticed" said Artim as he got his bearings back and returned his phaser to his lab coat. He really wasn't sure what was going on, but it was the same sorts of thing he had seen on DS5. Considering what had happened there, it seemed to be a goof idea that they figured out what it was that was going on and try and stop it.

For the time being though the doctor needed a quick fix, something to give them the time that was needed to find the solution and keep the crew sane in the meantime. Neurosurpessers would probably do the trick, and keep the crew functioning. But the right mix had to be found. That was only a temporary solution. Artim dialed up a strong sedative.

"I'll need to sedate both of you so I can run some deep scans on you. Might as well get me the Caitian as well. I should be able to formulate a treatment for whatever's causing this, but it will be a temporary fix at best. The treatments will have to be given regularly to remain effective. I'm going to have to have you stay here for a bit. While the Vulcans were fighting, Le'on had taken up a position under one of the biobeds and was giving the ball of yarn a good thrashing. He thought that he actually had wounded it until the evil orange ball lashed out in defense and managed to entangle him. He growled and hissed at it repeatedly while the yarn continued to wrap around him and seem to be in all places at once. Le'on then figured he'd have to get tough with the vile orange thing and really do some damage to it. He unleashed a claw and yelled out 'ROWR!' as he swiped at it. But the bulk shot away, rebounded off of the leg of the biobed and came back to smack him in the face, landing him on his butt.

Le'on fussed in a flurry of growls, meows, and hisses with arms flailing about and he then stopped when he noticed that there were a few people now concentrating on him. A couple of nurses and security officers had bent down to look under the biobed of what was going on now that the Vulcan catfight was over. Le'on did the only thing he could think of at that point: he ran. Le'on bolted from underneath the biobed, shooting across the floor of sickbay at breakneck speed with the orange ball of yarn bouncing behind him in his wake as most of it was still wrapped around his body.

"What the...?" Hanley yelped as Le'on raced across his foot

As the miniaturized Caitian zipped past his feet and started to zoom across the floor, Victor observed, "Obviously he decided he needed to be somewhere else. Very fast." He followed the security officer as he made a loop around sickbay, darting between feet, furniture, and reaching hands with equal alacrity. Using a phaser on the Caitian was out of the question; Victor could hit him without question, but there were too many random factors to guarantee that he could do it without stunning someone else as well. He looked around at the biobeds and the slimy floor covered in nutrient bath, and nodded. There was another way.

"Stand there," he pushed Hanley a meter or two away. "Grab him as he comes by."

"Ummm... all right, sir," Hanley stammered dubiously.

As the Caitian made his loop and started back, Victor reached out and picked up an abandoned instrument tray and waited.

Le'on got cut off by a nurse at the door, so he took a sharp 90 degree turn to his right and went through the legs of another nurse who'd tried to nab him. He then saw Hanley look like he was going to make a grab for him and adjusted his course accordingly.

Hanley lunged valiantly for his fellow officer, diving across the nutrient fluid-covered floor.

Le'on couldn't have planned it better if he tried, he made a small loop and then hopped up onto Hanley's head and used him as a bridge to cross the slime. That stuff would take weeks to get out of his fur. There wasn't anyway he was going in that junk. He shifted his course again, this time trying for an opening near Victor.

Victor didn't shift his feet as Le'on approached, but instead eyed the space between the biobed and the wall that the Caitian was making for, hefted the try, and, as Le'on made his move for it, threw the tray with a flick of his wrist.

The tray arced through the air, revolved twice, and dropped neatly in front of the gap Le'on was approaching, too abruptly for the Caitian officer to stop.

Le'on tried to hit the brakes but only succeeded in skidding across the thin carpet. His legs did wonders in trying to push himself backwards, but it was to no avail. He slammed square into the middle of the tray, arms and legs spread out in all directions. He then promptly fell onto his back, leaving a nice indentation of his body in the tray. As he slipped out of consciousness, he swore that that accursed orange ball of yarn came to a stop right next to his head.

One of the nurses came over and picked up Le'on, warily eyeing Victor the entire time, and then hurried away to take the small Caitian to Artim.

Victor watched her go, and turned to look at the rest of Sickbay. Lieutenant Hunter was still unconscious and drenched in nutrient fluid, several humanoid ears still sticking to her from the batch that had flowed out of the ruptured tank. The Vulcan who'd attacked him was likewise coated with the thick nutrient fluid, causing the two nurses lifting her onto a biobed to almost drop her twice, and finally resulting in one of the falling over her to keep Kio from sliding off the bed like an ice cube on a marble counter. The flood of nutrient fluid covered a swath of the floor, making some of the staff slip and sway as they moved through it, all of them avoiding the remaining ears that lay here and there in the mess as if they were sources of contaminated. Ensign Hanley, the front half of his body coated with nutrient slime was struggling to rise without a great deal of success. Le'on was being carried across the room by a nurse, the ball of yarn still attached to him and swinging below him like a metronome. Doctor Artim looked like he was torn between injecting his patients with a hypo, picking up his ears, or having a nervous breakdown.

Obviously Victor's work here was done.

As he moved towards the door, medical staff edging out of his way, he wondered if the scene was supposed to be amusing on some level. Perhaps it had, perhaps not. He'd never really felt that much of what most people found humorous was that entertaining, even back when he felt anything at all.

"Challenge Extended"

Primary Characters

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe, engineering officer
Lieutenant Jiiles, engineering officer
Michael McDowell, Civilian (former Engineering officer on the USS Galaxy)

(This is set *before* “Clashing of the mind”, and therefore before “My Prerogative” and “Scooby Gang”)

****Deck 8 crew quarters.***

After visiting Engineering and being kicked out by O'Shea, then talking to the Captain, which had seriously depressed her; even though that conversation had ended on a good note, and then undergoing loads of tests in sick bay and then being shouted at by lieutenant Ward, Dhani was not in the best of moods.

She had returned to her quarters and flatly refused to unpack. This week wasn't going as planned. And she was depressed. A lot. Finally after two years this place felt like home and now the welcome committee hade been, well *not* welcome, she didn't know what to think about the Galaxy any more. Maybe it would have been better if she had died.

Instead of unpacking anything else Dhani had taken the escapist route and was reading a book with a nice mug of hot coco.

And then the door chirped, just when it was getting to the good part.

"Enter." Dhani called out reluctantly.

As the door parted Dhani read the last line of her paragraph quickly and then looked up to see Jiiles standing in the doorway.

"D, D Dhani?" Jiiles stammered taken aback.

Dhani placed a book mark between the pages and closed it. She raised her eyebrows at him, as if for him to continue.

"So it is true." he said slightly gob smacked. At her silence he continued, "I didn't know you were here.." He was slightly confused, he had come to see Michael, or at least that's who's quarters he thought he was at.

Dhani stood up, "I live here." She replied slightly coldly. She knew what he was here for, and she didn't like the fact that he was about to stammer his way through and smooth over the reason why he was uncomfortable around her.

Before Jiiles could get another word in Dhani answered his questions.

"Michael is in the shower. (~Michael~ Dhani called out telepathically in the middle of her rant to Jiiles, ~You have a visitor~) And no you didn't come to talk to me, you came to find out *how* to talk to me. Because apparently it's really difficult to talk to someone who was declared dead, obviously opening your mouth and saying hello doesn't cut it any more. And no I'm not staying." Picking up her book she stormed out of the room to find a quieter corner of the Galaxy to be depressed in.

Michael picked up Dhani's voice with ease. He got a bit used to it now. Still, strange thing was that until now she was the only one with who he could communicate like this. (~Alright. I'll be there shortly.~)

He got a bath robe and put it on. He slowly walked out of the bathroom and was still ruffling the towel over his head to get his hair dry. Spotting Jiiles in the doorway was a surprise. A nice surprise that is. "Hey, Jiiles, ol' pal! How are you doing? Do come in friend."

Jiiles glanced at the open doorway where Dhani had breezed past him. The ice was setting on the floor in her wake.

Slowly he looked at Michael, an odd expression crossing his face.

"You live with her?" he asked trying not to sound jealous.

Michael shook his head slightly. "No, I don't. Not really anyway. I'm staying here a while. Just visiting the ship."

"Oh well, that's okay then…" Jiiles muttered. Friends stayed all the time there was nothing wrong with that... Michael wasn't in Starfleet anymore, he was just a guest. No threat at all, right?

"Its good to see you too." Jiiles said smiling slightly. He was going to ask how he was but with the ships current status he decided to just cut to the chase.

"I came here to ask you about Dhani." He began, "It's just I know you two are good friends, and you have known her longer than I have." He frowned.

"This is slightly awkward." He said flushing slightly. "Drink?" he suggested.

"Sure. But only if you take a few steps forward." Michael replied and smiled. He had didn't notice the flush on the Bolian's face. "Just come in and I'll get you something."

Jiiles smiled and stepped into the room. He took a quick look around, it was pretty standard so far, no personal touches anywhere. At least none that he recognised to be of a male persuasion.

Michael walked over to the replicator. "What do you like to have?"

"Andorain ale." Jiiles replied with a grin.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget. You've been drinking that for as long as I've known you." Michael ordered the drink Jiiles asked for and took some coffee for himself. "But, what about Dhani? Why come to me if you can ask her yourself?"

Jiiles sat down, he felt like a teenager asking his mate to ask out some girl for him. Pathetic really, but then this was not just 'some girl', this was Dhani, no-soon-look-at-you-then-bite-you're-head-off-and-then-found-in-you're-quarters-crying.

She was an emotional hot head with a temper and a powerful punch, but also a depth of passion and love that you didn't just dip you're toes in. Hell no! She swallowed you whole, heart mind and soul. And there was no coming up for air, she was intoxicating, and Jiiles was obsessed with her.

"Well now." Jiiles tried to find the words to express himself. "I, I, I would ask her myself but she doesn't seem to be up for talking. And I feel guilty, I mean I should have been there for her. I shouldn't have given up, and I need to know how she feels about that... and how she feels about me.." he stared down into his drink and flushed again.

Why was this so difficult? Just ... nine… months ago she was sharing his bed, or was it hers... But nine months was a long time and she obviously felt it, that much was clear by her less than warm 'hello' at the door just a few minutes ago.

He looked back up at Michael, he had been silent for a while.

Was this what he thought it was? Michael felt an eerie feeling coming up. Jiiles came dangerously close to a sensitive subject. He obviously had an eye for Dhani. But so did Michael, be it that it had taken some time to figure out he really did. "Jiiles, you're really asking the wrong person. Dhani is the only one who can tell you what you want to know, not me."

"Well," Jiiles started, "You know what she's like. It's difficult to get anything out of her, especially if it involves her feelings. I just don't know what came between us, you know?" he asked standing up and wandering around the room, dodging boxes.

Michael just listened and let Jiiles tell what was on his mind. But something had caught his interest. ~'between us'? They'd been together? Jiiles and Dhani?~

"I was wondering if you could help me, you know maybe ask her for me. Or, I don't know it's just so hard, after what happened. I have forgiven her for it but I just don't know how to tell her that. And I don't know if she wants to start things up again. I do, I still love her, that hasn't changed. It was hard, I won’t lie. After I found out what happened between her and Suder I was so mad. But I had time to reflect and I don't blame her. It was his fault. He violated her and she needs to know that I don't hate her for it. She needs to know that I still love her."

There you had it. What Michael feared was true. Jiiles loved Dhani. Right then and there Michael had the urge to show his friend the door of Dhani's quarters and tell him to stay away from her! Michael was not going to give Dhani up just because Jiiles wanted her back. His feelings were much too strong for that.

He realised that he was pacing and stopped abruptly, "I just need to know how to talk to her."

He looked down at the drink in his hand and then back at Michael. Quickly he crossed the room and placed the glass on the table, sitting down in front of Michael once more he leaned in close to him, "You know her better than I do. You know what she's been through… In fact I am envious that you were there. It should have been me. I was her boyfriend." a saddened expression crossed his face as he poured his heart out to Michael.

~Oh, is that so? Then why weren't you with her, huh? You never visited her once! Some boyfriend you are!~ Michael thought. The sarcasm dripped off every word.

"I just don't know how to relate to what she's going through. I want to help but I don't want to fight with her. She seems very much on the defensive at the moment. Or is that just with me?" his last question made him sit back in the chair and ponder.

Michael drank his coffee and placed the empty cup on the table. He sighed. "Like you said, she's been through a lot Jiiles. She needs time to get to terms with it all, and she needs her friends to support her. I think that's what she really needs." Michael paused and wondered how he could discourage Jiiles from continuing his pursuit for Dhani's heart. "And about Dhani being defensive, she has changed Jiiles. She's not the Dhani that you once knew. Actually, you could say she has become a whole new person."

Jiiles looked up from his drink and stared at his old pall for a few minutes. His brow furrowed as he thought over what Michael said, 'a whole new person'. She still seemed the frosty on the outside warm on the inside woman to him. Though you had to work through several layers of ice to get to the warmth!

"I know she has been through a lot, Michael. But I want to help her. I want to be with her again to hold her in my arms and comfort her."

There was a sigh from Michael's side. He grabbed his cup and stood up, turning his back towards Jiiles. He didn't need to hear all this. Walking over to the replicator he ordered another cup of coffee.

"You know it was me she came to after the events on Quinten?" Jiiles said sounding slightly smug.

"Oh?" Michael said. He tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, but Jiiles' comment kindled his envy. He didn't understand why Dhani had gone to Jiiles. At that time, she and Michael were already good friends. "Why?"

"There was a temporal rift and the ship crashed into a planet, Dhani was the only survivor and she lived there for about thirty years. She remembered her entire experiences on the planet, and then as herself met her older self when the ship crashed for the second time. She was really messed up afterwards. Almost possessed by her memories. And she came to *me*" Jiiles again stressed.

"Oh, I see. Well, good for you." The cynicism was not that obvious, but not completely hidden either. Michael got more annoyed by the minute and he only fuelled the discussion by saying, "So, what are you trying to say here Jiiles? What's your point? Because I'm wondering."

"Wondering what exactly?" Jiiles asked standing up. He was a little confused, before Michael could reply Jiiles continued, "Your my friend," he stated, though part of him was beginning to question this, "and she is your friend and I know that you are a good friends. And you want to see *both* your friends happy right? And I'm the only man that can make her smile." He concluded with a nod and smirk.

"Just listen to yourself and you know what I'm talking about. I mean, you're picturing yourself as the Knight in shining armor! Mr. Perfect!" Jiiles needed to be pulled back into reality and Michael was all to willing to do that. What was he thinking anyway? "What makes you think that you're the only one for her, pal!?"

"Pall?!!" Jiiles repeated the name Michael called him, although Michael had thrown it in with an insulting tone, his smirk faded quickly.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jiiles half shouted. "I came here to ask your advice in helping out *my* girlfriend. And what do I get? I am your friend, you have known me for years, why the hell am I all of a sudden *not* good enough for Dhani? And who the hell are you to judge?"

This had gone too far already. But Michael wasn't planning to budge even an inch. "Let me tell you, in this case I'm judge, jury, and executioner. Where were you that time when Dhani really needed someone? That time when she almost died here on this ship? And where were you when she was in deep coma on Trill...and died again!?"

"I didn't know her back then." Jiiles shot back, "And Trill.... you think that you can Judge me because I wasn't there when she took her last breath? Don't you think I would have if I could? She was in a coma for *nine* months. And where the *hell* *were* *you* when she fell into a coma? HEY?" Jiiles shouted back. "*You* have *no* idea what happened here, what Suder did. Suder who, if I remember was your best friend, like a brother to you! Do you have any idea what he did to her? WELL?" Jiiles asked in an accusing tone.

"You leave Ethan out of this you hear!! He's ten times the man you are! So typical of you to bring him up...and so obvious!" Michael was shouting now and if there were people walking nearby in the corridor, then they certainly would've heard him. He walked up to Jiiles while pointing to the door. "Now get out!! Or I'll make sure you regret staying!"

"Ten times the man *I* am?" Jiiles questioned leaning in to Michaels face, "If he was ten times the man I am then why the hell did he sleep with her, *against* her will?" Jiiles shouted, spittle flying from his lips.

There was no reply this time from Michael. What Jiiles just told him, hit him like a ton of bricks. A blow he couldn't recover from, though he did try. "You bastard! You're lying!!"

Jiiles eyes narrowed on Michael as he stood gob smacked. It seemed that Michael didn't know everything about Dhani after all.

He half laughed, snorted rather, at Michael before turning, leave the insult hanging in the air, and the question burning in Michael’s mind. Pausing in the open door way he spun round one last time, "You want Dhani, you are going to have to fight for her." Jiiles growled. Having the last word he stepped backwards out of the door so the last thing Michael saw was his smug blue face.

"Into the Abyss"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Two anonymous medics

The whole way toward sickbay, Brian thought his head would spin around at any moment and he would start hurling vile expletives to random passers-by. Fortunately, nothing quite that dramatic occurred.

Responding to Lt. Krieghoff's call, two medics -- one male, one female -- had arrived at the counselor's office to see him to sickbay. Only after they arrived and Krieghoff knew the situation was under control did he leave, a few moments of calm returning to Brian's mind and body in response. When he answered affirmatively when the female medic asked if he could walk under his own power, they let him do so, one medic on each side just in case. It proved to be a wise precaution.

Just when he thought there was nothing left in him to throw up, Elessidil did just that, giving the medic on his right only a millisecond to get out of the way when Brian turned his head.

"Easy, Counselor," the male medic said in an effort to comfort him. He took ahold of Brian's arm again and this time kept a hand on his back as well.

Only a few steps further, an overwhelming chill of mind and body swept the Betazoid as if someone had opened a door into the frigid darkness of space itself. In its wake came an intense emotional wave, one that there was no way the empath could escape. Falling to his knees, Brian buried his face in his hands and started sobbing uncontrollably. Headaches, vomit -- these were nothing in comparison, as the medics had no idea what to make of the counselor's sudden reaction to something they could neither see nor feel. They looked at each other for a moment, uncertain of what to do next.

"What's wrong? What is it?" the female medic finally asked the sobbing man in an almost maternal tone.

The only response was more crying. There were no words, nothing Brian could pinpoint or identify as a cause for his tears; there was only a deep abyss of despair flooding his mind, threatening to take the last remnants of consciousness with it. No longer aware of where he was or what he was doing, just an endless, deep, black despondence as his only reference to anything beyond himself.

With a knowing look from the other, the medics simultaneously reached the same conclusion. The male medic tapped his combadge, requested an emergency site-to-site transport to sickbay, and in a blue-white shimmer the three disappeared from the corridor.

"Creepiness" - Part 2

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 Petty Officer Madden Jayce, CMC, DS5

****

Main Shuttlebay, Deep Space 5

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 grave site 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." Corgan warned, "Keep your wits about you, everyone. It's a literal shit storm here, and it's a long way to anything important. Engineering, Ops, Computer Core... we better pick. I don't want to split the group up."

"Something tells me that I'm headed for the Computer Core," Chase Remur grinned. Computers. Now there was something she understood. And if she had to climb around on an increasingly weird wrecked station, so what? "Anybody want to come with? I really don't feel like being all by my lonesome."

"I got your back," Iniara spoke up at last. Ever since they had teamed up in the Hazard Team tryouts, she found herself spending a good deal of time with Remur. They made a good enough pair: Chase was the brains, and Iniara the brawn.

Iniara made her way up behind Chase, phaser rifle at the ready. She gave the young hacker a slight smile, and then turned to look at the rest of the team. "Let's get this over with. I don't think I'm the only one who is feeling creeped out by this place.

Remur made a face. She agreed wholeheartedly with that assessment.

James hated it, but splitting up was the only choice. "Remur, Iniara, take someone else with you. Three groups will be enough to hit our objectives here and get the hell out while still being able to cover each others backs. I have the highest security clearance of the group. I'll be needed in Ops to access some of the higher systems. I will also need someone who is familiar with LCARS operations, aside from Remur. Any volunteers?"

"Sir!" T'lan spoke up, "I will go with you. Outside of Lieutenant Remur's expertise, I am your most logical choice."

"Good. Major Rex, I want you to lead the third team to Engineering. Your command clearance will also be needed there. Otherwise, take your pick. I have who I need."

The Trill gave an absent nod as he listened to the security officer. "Yeah." he said, looking around the cavernous bay, that nagging feeling of familiarity growing ever more persistent.

Marcus was paying attention to the conversation that was happening while keeping an eye and ear out for anything that might suddenly come out of nowhere on the station. Something about the place was screaming for him to run but another part was giving him a small headache. "Major, I'm with you on the engineering run." Marcus said from his spot in the group.

"Works for me, kid." Corran replied in a distracted tone. "Barnes, you come with us too. I'm thinking some of that ordnance you're hauling around might come in handy."

A nagging buzz was growing the in back of his mind, in the places where the voices of his pasts hosts had been heard in his mind, back before he'd found - well, not a cure, but a treatment - for his T'Rex's Syndrome. Unconsciously, he fingered the hypospray in his flight suit's front pocket. This felt like he was starting to hear his past hosts voices in the back of his mind again, but, medically speaking, he knew that to be impossible.

He was integrated, whole. The joined Trill didn't think he could bear it if that changed.

Barnes gave a loud and enthusiastic 'Aye aye, Major' as she followed along behind the Trill officer, a audible hum coming from the weaponry she carried.

"Everybody ready?" Corgan asked, surveying the group with a watchful eye. What disturbed him was the look of wariness in the group, like frightened peasants in the haunted forests of fairytale legends. Major Rex, Iniara and T'lan were the worse cases, but all kept a stoic defense to their fears. "We're the only people for this job. We go where others can't, where the devil shies aways and angels fear to tread. I know how you feel, but we have to keep our wits about us. If we can't do it, what the hell hope does anyone else have? Lets go. T'lan?" He glanced at his Vulcan deputy.

"Sir." T'lan cradled her rifle, joining James.

"Keep in radio contact. No sense in imposing silence... we'll need to talk to each other and co-ordinate our actions. Get in to your respected areas, find clues to what is going on, and hit your objectives. Move out!"

"Slaton, Barnes, you heard the man." Rex said, drawing his sidearm as he took the fore of their little triangle. "Slaton, you armed?"

The young Engineer simply nodded.

"Good." Corran nodded, spying the nearby turbolift. It's doors were askew, the lights flickering on and off inside of it. "Something tells me the 'lifts aren't exactly operational. Let's take the jefferies tube."

Without a word, the pilot led his two companions towards the aforementioned tube. As the groups split up, Rex turned to face Corgan one last night. Aside from the obviousness of it, he had a growing feeling in the pit of his stomach that things just weren't wrong here - they were very, very wrong. He knew somehow, that very shortly they were all going to regret the Galaxy's arrival at Deep Space Five. "Corgan." he said, locking eyes with the other man.

"Yes?" Corgan asked.

"Watch yourself." the pilot said simply.

Corgan gave Rex an understanding nod. "Keep frosty, flyboy."

To that, James Corgan and T'lan pried open the jefferies tubes entrance and crawled inside.

"Hanging around!"

Lt Jiiles, engineering officer (APC - Dru)
& Lt Ella Grey, Assistant Chief of Engineering

*takes place after the Engineering meeting*

=====

USS Galaxy, Engineering

=====

As the 'Scooby gang' departed the 'pool' table to undertake their assigned tasks Jiiles moved round the table to join Lt. Grey.

He wasn't too sure what was on the agenda, O'Shea had mentioned something about projects, and as long as none of them involved the Holodeck he was willing and able to help.

He stood slightly behind the lieutenant watching her for a moment, but his eyes soon trailed past her to Dhani.

"Lieutenant, what are your orders?" Jiiles asked still staring at Dhani.

"I want to recheck the starfighter." Ella said. "There's probably nothing more to find but it can't hurt and since everything else onboard is running properly I don't feel too stupid about it." She followed the lieutenant's gaze over to where Dhani stood.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She asked quietly. Or as quiet as was possible. "I'm glad that she's alive but it's still strange to have her around."

"It's amazing to have her back." Jiiles replied still watching Dhani from across the room, "I just wish I had her back.." He trailed off and looked down at the floor for a second.  But his eyes returned to staring at her from.  The way she walked the way she talked, the way the light sparkled in her eyes, the smell of her hair the feel of her skin..

Ella didn't know much about their situation since she tended to people watch outside of her department and even that she hadn't been so interested in lately. Besides, the ship's gossip kept her informed of anything that she needed (or didn't need) to know. According to it, O'Shea was to be married next week on Romulas, Nara had stolen Saul away from Bran by using heppel oil, Dhani had been brought back from the dead using some strange Quentite ritual akin to voodoo, McDowell and Slayton were starting a cook book club, and Ella, for reasons that varied from brain damage to the influence of the Evil One, was still deeply madly in love with Victor Krieghoff.

She sighed but continued walking. "How have you been, Jiiles?"

Jiiles looked up at the Lieutenant, "Fine." He replied simply.  "Got nothing to complain about. Well not really." ~the woman I love is back in my life but as of yet she isn't in my arms and its painful to see her walk past me without even inclining her head towards me, she doesn't even notice me any more, its like I'm nothing to her. yup everything is fine *apart* form that!~ Jiiles concluded silently.

"Yeah, I hear you." Ella said.

"What about you?" he returned her question, wondering what she was hiding behind that mechanical voice of hers.  It was slightly disconcerting when talking to her now.  The voice conveyed no pitch in tone to signify a question or emotion.  But at least it was easier than reading a padd every few seconds.  Also she always wrote in capitals, making it seem as if she was shouting at him all the time.

"A distant ship's smoke on the horizon." Ella quoted. Indigo had been trying to cheer her up by introducing her to music other than opera. She was becomming irritated, however, that Ella seemed to narrow in on the depressing song from each album she was shown.

"I mean, honestly El," Indigo had complained. "There are other songs besides My Immortal, Nothing compares 2 U, and Yesterday."

She smiled wanly at Jiiles perplexed face. "Fine, just a little tired. I'd like to blame it on all this... whatever's been happening onboard but I haven't been sleeping great lately. What do *you* think is happening? I swear, I passed a Vulcan today and she actually growled at me."

"I don't know, Lieutenant." Jiiles said honestly. "Nothing good."

"Probably not." Ella agreed as they approached the ship. "Well, let's see if this will give us any answers."

"Brought to you by Singles"

By: 2nd Lieutenant Ayden O’Connor

The dark depths of space extended into the expanse of this galaxy, as hollow and cold as the heart of a dead world. Patterns of color slipped around the stars, forming what most sentient beings would call nebulas, a brightly lit array of exotic hues, insurmountably stretching across entire light years. The serene locale was timeless, having changed so little in the course of its existence.

So why not have a little fun with it?

The Banzai class fighter craft broke through the thick nebula cloud like lightning would through a storm, and curved into a tight bank, appearing out of nowhere to the USS Galaxy’s sensors. Its pilot, one 2nd lieutenant Ayden Tate O’Connor, chuckled under his breath as he found himself coming under a very sudden, and very powerful sensor scan. "At least they haven’t started shooting yet," he uttered lightly, waiting for the traditional "who the hell are you", greeting. It came right on time.

"Banzai craft on rapid approach, this is USS Galaxy. Please state your identification and intent." The young voice of a female whined across his communication set with enough of an accent that it almost took him a second try to understand what she was saying.

He eased his throttle back, and activated the communication unit in his helmet. "USS Galaxy this is Echo 331, callsign ‘Singles’. Purpose is to dock with you as the Foxtrot November Golf pilot for Vanguard, over."

He leaned back in his seat, pulling his controls to the left enough to come alongside the Galaxy class starship, a certain beauty amongst the stars. It only took me eight years to get here, he thought with a certain hint of frustration. He had missed the war, but if everything he heard about the Galaxy was true, he wouldn’t miss their next adventure for anything.

It took him a moment to realize that it was taking the Galaxy a little longer to respond then he had originally anticipated, perhaps already getting in touch with his will-be new CO to report on his little stunt. God he hoped they weren’t *that* anal retentive. Ayden mused, "This will definitely be a fun assign…"

"Echo 331 you are cleared to dock, enter via tactical shuttle bay and report to Vanguard Squadron Commander."

How the hell was he supposed to understand that woman?! Her accent was stronger than Klingon’s breath. At least the computer was able to interpret her enough to update his objectives list, which bluntly displayed a:

"DOCK WITH USS GALAXY VIA TACTICAL SHUTTLE BAY, AND REPORT TO VANGUARD SQUADRON COMMANDER."

He grinned again, thankful that in the 24th century they had those fancy little AI units. "Galaxy this is Singles, confirmed, I’m en-route to advised location, Echo 331 out." With that all said and done, Ayden brought his fighter around to the bow of the ship, passing closely over the saucer section. His sensor readouts indicated that the docking bay was opening up for him, so as soon as he passed over it he cut his burners into a high velocity turn, never passing over the hull section by more than his length before he disappeared into the mouth of the Galaxy. Suddenly feeling weighed down by 1G gravity from the Galaxy’s artificial generators, Ayden almost felt his breath escape him as he leveled his bird down and touched down. The Artificial Intelligence, better known as "Crescent", as he called her, had automatically calculated and compensated for the change so that he didn’t plow into the ground, which almost took the fun out of first impressions.

"Crescent, disengage reactor and go onto standby mode, it’s time for me to go introduce myself." He commanded softly towards the computer console.

"Confirmed have fun and try not to spill the synthehol this time." The sarcastically-spoken, yet exceptionally feminine voice played back towards him. Oh, the fun in modifying your shipboard AI just a bit… he even managed to justify it as company for long-range missions where boredom and exhaustion can impede a pilot’s capacity to perform effectively. The excuse barely passed with his superiors, but it did at least.

As the canopy opened up, Ayden worked to decouple his helmet and. The flight crew was quick to help him out, as others started their maintenance on his fighter. As soon as he touched boots on ground, he was greeted by the hanger’s flight chief, who flashed an immediate salute. "Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Carl Stalansky; I’ll be your crew chief today, and for as long as you’re on board."

Ayden returned the salute, feeling exhilarated to finally have a real assignment. "Hey Chief, where’s the Vanguard CO?" He asked, pulling off his gloves and sticking them into his flight suit. Now that he was on board, he didn’t need all the environmental conditioners provided by his equipment. It was plenty nice out here.

"He’ll be in his office, I’ll show you the way, Sir." Stalansky replied sharply.

"I’ll follow you then." Ayden smiled, following his new crew chief like a puppy towards where he’ll either be welcomed aboard, or chewed out. Either way, he was glad to be aboard.

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

"What's Beyond Reality - The Cross of Changes" (Part V)

Fleet Captain Cassius Henderson,
USS Resolute, 47th 'Henderson's Harriers' Battle Squadron (F. Byrne)

Lieutenant Colonel T'Shani sh'Akledorian,
SFMC 'Reaver' 8th TSS Battalion. (M. Miller)

****

If you understand or if you don't
If you believe or if you doubt
There's a universal justice

And the eyes of truth,
are always watching you

****

Lammergeir, Gryphon System, 2386

[Colonel, flash traffic on the VSRB comms for you. Marked urgent.]

"Rhooz."

An indigo hand swatted at the commbadge on the nightstand in the darkened room. Missing the first couple of times, the fingers connected on the next attempt, activating the device's internal circuitry.

[Colonel?] the detached voice queired again with the exacting pronunciation and accent of a Golic Vulcan speaker.

"*How* urgent, First Lieutenant?" the half-asleep voice in the room croaked.

There was a small pause. In the background could be heard the electronic chirp of a computer, no doubt querying, authenticating, and verifying said message's importance. [Code Five, Level Four-A,] the mechanical voice responded.

'Dammit,' the Colonel thought. Anything between Code 5 through Code 1 was eyes-only, and required immediate attention. And a Level 4A Access meant that only one person was supposed to see it. "I'll be right there, Lieutenant Kavaal."

[Understood,] Was the only reply.

Following a long sigh, the figure called out to the darkened room, "Computer: lights, fifteen-percent." Without pause, the computer both chirped a confirmation and raised the room's indirect lighting by the requisite degree. The figure stirred, throwing off the covers.

"This has better be good," Lieutenant Colonel T'Shani muttered aloud as her feet touched the cold duranium floor of her room.

Code 5 also meant that it couldn't be sent directly to the terminal in her room, for security precautions. Especially after the Breen infiltration of top-level security encryption at the start of the war. Although that leak had been plugged, Signals Command still took no chances with VIT/EIT (Very Important/Extremely Important Traffic).

"AMIE," she called out to the room. Instantly, the form of a lithe young human female - in her late twenties - shimmered into existance. "Yes, Colonel T'Shani?" the construct asked politely, her cerulean eyes shimmering.

"Who's it from?" she asked while walking over to the chair where she had draped her under-armor, BDUs, boots, and black SpecOps beret, all laid out neatly and perfectly folded. She began dressing quickly as AMIE answered.

AMIE pause for the briefest of femtoseconds, her powerful subroutines analyzing the SMT protocols and trasfer addressing information, before answering. "Fleet Captain Cassius Henderson, Commanding USS Resolute, 74th Battle Squadron." T'Shani's antennas shot up as soon as she heard "Cassius", and was out the door before AMIE even finished.

****

Bridge, Deck 1: USS Resolute, NCC-84711, 2386

"Captain, we have now passed the five minute mark."

"Thank you, Ensign Prescott," Fleet Captain Cassius Henderson replied, turning his head to look at the young woman as he spoke to her. Her tone of voice had belied the apprehension the mostly-Bajoran officer was probably feeling. This was her first mission on her first assignment out of the Academy. It was probably terrifying.

Cass knew exactly what that was like. He had experienced that same transition in 2373, on the eve of the Dominion War - the transition from being a student, safe behind Earth's defense grid, to being on the front lines of a galactic warzone.

Though he was now a veteran of over a hundred different battles and skirmishes, he still remembered exactly what it was like when you'd never really fired a ship's phasers against another ship, and didn't even have your Combat Merit.

He stood from his command chair, reflexively smoothing his uniform with both hands. "Lieutenant Fukaji, give me an open channel to the Harriers."

"Henderson's Harriers", as Battle Squadron 74 had come to be known, were an elite group of front line starships. In the year and a half since the beginning of the Quadrant War, Cassius Henderson had lead them in more behind the lines raids than any other unit, Alliance or Triad, in the war. They had burned supply depots on Gememnon IV, broken the siege of Mirusa VI, and lead the charge that retook the Gryphon Asteroid Belt.

~If only that last one had stuck,~ Cass thought, rubbing his stubbled jaw. In the month since the Federation had gained that critical foothold in Hydran controlled territory, the system had changed hands three times. The only constants were conflict and the unit of Marines that now occupied Lammergeir, the former capitol.

Fukaji bowed her head to him. The channel was open to all personnel and all ships.

"Captain Henderson to all ships. All Harriers to battlestations. We are now four minutes from reversion to impulse speed. Repeat, five minutes from engaging the Hydran blockade."

Around him, the bridge dimmed to the dramatic red lighting common to a Red Alert. The senior staff were already starting to take over from their junior officers.

"Know that our purpose is to break this blockade, once and for all. Know that our purpose is to deliver the technology of Chirurgeon sh'Altair, an action that will deny the most terrible of Hydran advantages - the ability to subvert."

"And most importantly, know that our purpose is to relieve our comrades, and defend our Federation. Henderson clear."

As Fukaji closed his fleetwide channel, Cass glanced aroun the bridge at his assembled staff. All were present, with the exception of the XO.

"Phoebe?" he asked, directing the question to the chair that his Number One usually occupied.

Instantly Commander Phoebe St. Claire shimmered into existance. The former Galaxy ETH flashed her trademark grin. "Sorry, sir. I was dealing with a problem in main engineering. It's been resolved. All stations are prepared and all hands accounted for."

"Excellent," Cassius nodded, seating himself to face the viewscreen. The starfield was beginning to resolve out of the streaks of warp speed. Before them lay a more numerous Hydran Warfleet, arranged in orbit of Lammergeir, the largest asteroid in the belt.

"Blockade breach in 5..."

"4..."

"3..."

"2..."

"1..."

"All Harriers, engage."

****

Gryphon Base, Lammergeir Underground, Gryphon System, 2386

"Colonel," the petite blonde said as she and T'Shani walked briskly down the underground tunnels of Gryphon Base.

"What is it, AMIE?" T'Shani asked, a mild hint of impatience flashing across her voice as she slowed her gait slightly. Cassius's message had been clear: The Harriers were coming full-force to retake Gryphon System and deliver sh'Altair's top-secret "project". Good news, in spades.

"We have recieved another communique from Captain Henderson," she paused for a brief second while T'Shani stopped in the tunnel, waiting.

AMIE continued: "The Harriers have broken the Hydran blockade, and have destroyed the Divine Conviction, while capturing the Gral. Gryphon System is now in the control of the Alliance, ma'am," the construct concluded, her relational and facial-control subroutines allowing a small smile to form on the face of her nano-frame.

T'Shani dipped her antennas once in acknowledgement, before turning and continuing her fast pace down the corridor, AMIE trailing beside her. She cast off salutes absently while passing several junior officers and non-coms, all the while focusing on what her AI had just informed.

'Gryphon System is now in the control of the Alliance...' she repeated to herself silently.

'It's about damned time,' Tish she thought while entering an empty turbocar and called out for Sublevel Ten. Soon the car was moving downward, deeper underneath the surface of Lammergeir.

AMIE waited until the lift was moving, before continuing, her vocal subroutine lowering her voice and softening her inflection. "T'Shani," she said, indicating that she was talking to her CO in a non-duty fashion, "Captain Henderson has requested permission to personally deliver the package, himself," the AI paused, waiting for any reaction from the woman beside her before continuing: "He has also conveyed that he would like to meet with you, personally."

The lift came to a stop and opened its doors to the central control nexus of Gryphon Base. Tish didn't exit the lift, however. She didn't even move. Inside, though, her hearts were beating in double-time, her thoughts racing even faster.

She hadn't seen Cassius Henderson for... 'How long has it been?' she thought back, 'Three years, now?' Ever since they had departed their ways after the Plovois incident, they'd stayed out of touch. It was her suggestion, really. One that, sometimes, she regretted making. But it had been for the better, she had thought at the time. He had his ship to command, and she had her life as a Marine. Besides, he had made his choice clear to her, long ago.

"T'Shani? Ma'am?" AMIE prompted as the indigo woman stood in the lift, an almost frightened expression on her face. Several of the control staff looked in the direction of the lift, curiously.

Quelling the conflicting emotions churning within herself, Colonel T'Shani stepped out of the lift and nodded to the AI. "Very well, AMIE. Have Trigger and Guskin conduct the Captain to my office, as soon as he arrives. Make sure that the package is secured, as well. I want A-Squad on it, at all times, understood?" she said while briskly walking across the upper platform that lead to her the command offices.

"Yes, Ma'am," AMIE replied, then vanished into the air.

****

Lt. Colonel sh'Akledorian's Office, Gryphon Base, 2386

Cass gazed into the transparent aluminum case that sat in his lap. It was a strange feeling: knowing that situated on your legs was the one thing that could deny the Hydrans their greatest advantage. And it was such a tiny thing, too. A pair of thin test tubes, the kind that could be found in any science lab, rested in midair, supported and protected by overlapping forcefields. Within them was a red-orange liquid.

A red-orange liquid that could redefine the Hydran Front.

For a man who had lost or given up much of who he was at the outset of the Quadrant War, it seemed only fitting that he and T'Shani sh'Akledorian should be reunited by this liquid's deployment.

As he sat in the anteroom of T'Shani's makeshift office, deep below the ruined former capitol city of the Gryphon Coalition, he pondered a thousand questions. ~How will she react to seeing me? Has she changed? I certainly have,~ he thought. And he had, especially on the outside.

He was thinner now, mostly from the long hours, late nights, and constant movement. His face was rough with the stubble of facial hair that he'd allowed to go uncut for a few days. And on the inside, he knew that he'd been hardened by the second war in his still reasonably young life. ~Will she still have the same feelings? My greatest regret...~

Silently, the doors that separated the anteroom and the inner office parted, beckoning from within with only a dim light. "Come in, Cassius."

~Yes, she has changed,~ he thought, reflecting on the tired, husky tone to her voice. Placing both hands on the container, he stood and headed over into the dim light of her office. If only one word had to be chosen to describe the room, it would have to be subdued. The poorly lit office contained only a crowded desk, on which the desklamp providing the only illumination stood, and a pair of chairs. She was sitting behind the desk, face shadowed by the lighting.

Cass placed the container on the edge of her desk and sat across from her. "It's been a long time, Tish."

"It has, Cassius," she said quietly. She placed both hands on the clear case, smoothing over the top of the transluminum. As she leaned forward to inspect the contents of the case, the glow of the old-fashioned lamp caught the side of her face.

Cass had to admit, as emotionless a response as he'd just gotten, she was still very beautiful. Her features were somehow different, maybe harder. Maybe the set of her jaw. Maybe the steel behind her eyes. The Quadrant War, just as the Dominion War before it, altered everything in it's path, leaving nothing the same. There were no constants. "There you have it. The Hydran nanotech detection serum. One injection places a Hydran sleeper into a coma."

"Good, good," she said softly as she stood up and walked around to Cass's side and sat on the edge of her desk, facing him. The soft lamp-glow now bathed over both their forms, shadow and light playing off the features of their faces. She cocked an antenna forward and squinted her eyes, studying his drawn, thinner face. He wasn't much older than she, but he looked like he had already been through three wars, instead of one.

She didn't say anything, though her hearts and mind were screaming to release the torrent of emotions that she had kept pent up so deeply since the day they had said their goodbyes. She wanted to scream, wanted to weep, wanted to kick his ass for not speaking to her for so long, wanted to be held by him just one more time.

Instead her eyes seemed to flash for a moment with the emotion, but she quickly quelled it again, determined not to show her weakness, not after she had buried that ghost so deep within her personal closet.

Carefully, she looked away, pushing back the moisture forming in her eyes, cursing in her mind in both Standard and Andorian at how foolish she must look to him, now.

Finally composing herself, she looked returned her stare to his face, noticing that he had not moved at all. She locked eyes with him, her blazing yellow meeting calming brown. Without speaking it aloud, her eyes asked the question that had been lingering between them through the intervening years: *Why*?

The intensity of the gaze shot along his nerves, setting them tingling. Ever since the assignments to Mirusa VI and Deep Space 5, four years previous, his latent empathic abilities had been more sensitive. She didn't have to speak her question. He already knew.

The intensity of the gaze shot along his nerves, setting them tingling. Ever since the assignments to Mirusa VI and Deep Space 5, four years previous, his latent empathic abilities had been more sensitive. She didn't have to speak her question. He already knew.

"Because by the time we were both in the right state of mind," he tried to explain, pausing periodically to choose the right words. It had been an eternity since they'd parted at the war's opening. It would probably be another eternity before the next time they met. The right words were all he had to offer. "...the war had begun, and we were being given units stationed dozens of light years apart."

'What else were you expecting, T'Shani?' she asked herself. All the time she had known Cassius Henderson, he had been the epitome of the old Terran word, *patriot*. He was loyal - to the fault - of the purest ideals and tenets that the Federation had been founded on. So loyal, in fact, that they had become his only mistress; his only companion in the cold fight.

"Are you lonely, Cassius?" she asked simply. It was a simple question, but the subtext held a much deeper meaning. Feeling foolish, she tried to clarify, "When you're up *there* with space all around..." her voice trailed off.

"Yeah," he replied, without hesitation. It was that emptiness, the void within him, that had made him ask to deliver the serum personally. "I know a lot of people talk about how Captains view their ships as the woman they love. I've never felt that. To me, the Resolute is just an extension of myself."

"Yeah," he replied, without hesitation. It was that emptiness, the void within him, that had made him ask to deliver the serum personally. "I know a lot of people talk about how Captains view their ships as the women they love. I've never felt that. To me, the Resolute is just an extension of myself."

"They never tell you how solitary it is, being a captain, when they're telling the stories about Kirk," he continued, standing up to look at her face to face... more or less. He had never really noticed how much taller she was. "I think I understand now why he was such a rake. It's as infinately lonely up there as it is infinitely vast."

She turned her head from his gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes this time, not wanting him to see the emptiness that penetrated *her*. She wanted to scream out at him, 'How dare you leave me, when I *needed* you, Cassius!', but the words didn't come. Instead, she tried to cap the anger, the frustration, the hurt... the terrible lonliness that had consumed her for far too long. Balling her fists at her her sides, she turned and stomped out of her office.

WARNING: CONTAINS MILDLY SUGGESTIVE SEXUAL SCENES

OOC: Takes place just after "What's Beyond Reality..." Part (V), and is the final chapter in this installment. We hope you all have enjoyed this amazing journey for our charachters, as much as we have, ourselves.

"What's Beyond Reality - Return to Innocence" (Part VI)

Fleet Captain Cassius Henderson,
USS Resolute, 47th 'Henderson's Harriers' Battle Squadron (F. Byrne)

Lieutenant Colonel T'Shani sh'Akledorian,
SFMC 'Reaver' 8th TSS Battalion (M. Miller)

****

[Ami chant]

Love - devotion
Feeling - emotion

Don’t be afraid to be weak
Don’t be too proud to be strong
Just look into your heart my friend,
that will be the return to yourself

The return to innocence

~"Return to Innocence" (LSD Remix)
Composed by Curly M.C.
Performed by Enigma
From the album: "LSD: Love, Sensuality and Devotion"
Published by Virgin Records, (c) 2001

****

The Situation Room, Gryphon Base, 2386

"Tish?" Cass called, immediately moving to follow her. She was quick, and he'd chased her through several corridors before catching her in a hallway a few corridors down. He caught her wrist. "Tish, I regret leaving you, but what could I have possibly done differently? I had my orders."

She knew she could easily snap his wrist in two, and free herself from his grip, but she didn't. It was the first time he had touched her in so long. She stopped and quickly turned toward him, sticking her face in front of his by mere centimeters. "You knew... you *knew*!" she growled, the heat from both her breath and the anger and hurt behind her words flushing across his face.

Quickly, she pulled back as tears started streaming from her eyes. She wrenched her wrist from his grip, wiping at her face while taking in a long breath. "And after all that," she said shakily, hurt and anger cracking her voice, "you still left. You didn't even say 'Goodbye', Cassius!" she began yelling at him. Pointing both her antennas at him accusatorily, "You just *left* me! And you ran off to save the Federation, once again! You said Kirk was such a 'rake', Cassius, but your just like him. You can't see past your own uniform, you can't see past it... to..."

She sniffed, then looked him straight in the eyes, "... to *ME*"

"How was I supposed to say goodbye?! You left the ring with me when you went on the fool's errand to Plovois!" he shouted back. He was about to continue, but he bit back the words.

"No... this isn't helping. Look, I'm not saying that I didn't screw up. I most definitely made some poor decisions. I'd take most of them back, including every day I didn't call you. I... I'm sorry I hurt you, T'Shani. I never meant to do anything but protect."

"PROTECT?!!" she raged back, incredulous at his explanation. In the corner of her eye, she noticed two non-coms who had stopped to take in the argument. "Get back to your stations, NOW!" she roared at them, sending them scurrying from the hallway.

She looked over her shoulder and noticed that the door to the Situation Room was open. Grabbing Cassius's forearm roughly, she shoved him in and then followed, locking the door behind them.

"That's what I do, Tish!" he said, moving with her to keep from having his arm torn off. He wanted privacy as much as she did, and even if he hadn't, he wouldn't have tried to stop her. "I protect people. It's why I'm in the 'fleet; why I'm here in this system. Because somebody has to!"

"And who are you going to protect when this is all over, Cass?!" she yelled right back at him. "What will you do when there's no more crosses to bear, no more sectors to win? Who will you love... who will you *let* love you, then?" she asked, her tone more subdued, almost pleading as the want, the need, broke in waves across her face, sending her antennas swinging wildly and her chest heaving.

He reached into his pocket, closed his hand around the two stone objects. Their presence was comforting, calming. He wasn't sure whether to attribute that to their technological property, or to their sentimental value. Either way...

"I was hoping it would be you," he admitted. "I was hoping that you'd be able to forgive me for doing what I had to do."

Her breath caught in her throat, not releasing or relinquishing. Her face was suddenly frozen by what he had just said, and it rung again loudly in her mind, resonating to deep within her hearts... 'I was hoping it would be you'. That simple statement summed up everything for her, and began to answer her questions. But there were still so many left to ask.

Cass took the opportunity granted by her emotional storm's lull to pull the rings from his pocket and press one into her palm. "I brought your ring."

She looked down into her open palm, staring at the object that Cassius had placed there. Turning the smooth, stonelike ring over in her hand, she knew what he was asking of her. But... could she? Could she face truly *knowing* what she had asked of him, ready for either the confirmation of what she *hoped* he felt, or the rejection that she feared?

And was she willing to, once again, truly let him into the deepest part of her hearts? To let him feel within everything she felt for him? She turned the ring over again and again. But, this was why they were in this position, in the first place, wasn't it? Though she wanted to just blame him for how crummy and lonely she felt, she knew it was partly her fault, as well.

Silently, she slipped the ring over her right ring finger, then looked up into Cass's gentle eyes.

"Few people have this kind of opportunity, to be able to look into the soul of another at will," he said, revealing the other ring on the plam of his hand. He slipped it over the ring finger, feeling her senses, emotions, thoughts, and everything, flood into him. "We would be fools to ignore such a gift."

Instantly, she could *feel* him. Inside her, around her; he was her and she was him. Thoughts and conciousnesses merged, and they found themselves thinking directly with each other, as one mind.

A look of shock, of revelation, flashed across her face as his memories became hers. All that she had never known since she had wrapped his fingers around her ring so long ago, when she had departed for Plovois. All that she had supposed, wished about, and hoped for were leveled at the insight to his deepest core... to his heart.

His most guarded thoughts were bared to her now: what he'd wondered when she'd gone to Plovois, how he'd come to the decision that leaving her would protect her from his over-devotion to duty, and how he'd come to regret that decision. The lone, lonely nights on the firing line, and the many minor injuries.

But when it was all stripped away, the underlying emotion that he held for her was simple:

*Love*.

"Cassius!" she cried out as the overpowering emotion of his deep love encircled her, causing her to buckle and lean over, caught breathless. She grabbed his hand, holding it close to her as she steadied herself and let her own guarded thoughts go.

Her deepest fears and highest hopes were offered up to him. How she had tried to forget him; tried to get over him, but couldn't. How she had stayed awake, late into the night, thinking of where he was, if he still wondered the same. How alone she had been as her SpecOps unit had moved from one Top Secret mission to another. How tired and weary she had become of this damnable war.

Yet deep within everything she felt, the undercurrent of who she was, and what she felt for the man across from her was communicated between them more clearly than even a spoken word, or an unspoken expression.

Gently, she removed the ring, breaking the connection suddenly. But *it* was still there. The feeling that had filled her so fully, so long ago at Rel'kessan, was still beating within her, as strongly as the double-time thump of her strong hearts. Gently, she reached up to his face, a *new* connection reaching through and binding them together.

"Cassius," she gently whispered, "I... "

The feeling of her fingertips as she gently brushed them across his jawline caused him to draw in breath. He slipped his ring off of his finger, and put it in his pocket for safekeeping. He stepped closer to her, into her personal space, and rested a hand on her hip. "I know," he said, "I think we're on the same page now."

She began openly crying now, pressing her forehead to his,feeling her tears touch both of their faces. Composing herself, somewhat, she finally said what she'd never dare admit, to herself, or to him...

"I *love* you, Cassius," she whispered so softly as her hand moved back across the strong features of his face, her skin scraping over the ruddy beard growning there. Letting go of all that she had held back for so many years, she pressed herself close to him while pulling her face back slightly, looking at him expectantly.

He met her eyes as she leaned down to look at him. Endless pools of yellow; feline eyes. "I love you too, Tish," he finally said, and leaned forward to fuse their lips together.

The sensation was overwhelming to her, setting every part of her body burning with the fire of pure bliss, his mouth pressed firmly against hers. She had waited so long... too long.

Hungrily, she kissed back at him, pushing her body into him while also leaning him into the room's table. Explosions of want, of desire, but mostly of her true love for him coursed through her alien blood, transmitted to him by her touch, by the pounding of her hearts through her chest, but most of all through the purest kiss...

Cassius returned the kiss with the same ardent passion. They had both waited what had seemed to be an eternity for this moment. He wrapped his arms around her, one stroking her lower back and the other running through her long white hair. In a way, the feel of her body against his was exactly how he'd imagined it, and yet somehow beyond.

As the feelings of euphoria and passion enveloped her, T'Shani's *drive* started kicking in, throwing new emotions and completely overwhelming impulses charging through her mind and body. Strongly, she dropped her left arm down to his waist, then spun him around--still facing her--so that now *she* was the one pressed against the table.

"Tinis," he breathed before continuing to kiss her, letting out years of pent up emotion power his actions. He slipped his tongue between her full lips, exploring her body as she spun him around. Left in the more dominant position, he drew himself against her.

"Mmmm, *qwhi-ut*," she mumbled between their frantic kisses. Laying back fully on the table now, she grabbed his butt strongly, pulling his entire body up and on top of her as she wrapped her well-developed long legs around his waist. She let out a slight gasp of pleasure as she felt his excitement build, and lifted her hips to gently grind on his arousal. All the while her hands were madly pulling at his uniform pants.

Cass blinked as she hauled him bodily on top of her. As usual, her natural and trained strength made for a surprising moment. He moved up onto his knees, straddling her to give her access and to allow him to use his hands. He looked down at her as he reached down to urgently rip her uniform jacket open.

It took them a moment's fumbling, but after a few minutes, they'd managed to undress, revealing T'Shani's secret.

"When did you have the scar removed?" he asked incredulously.

"After Plovois," she sighed as she guided his hand over her naked breast and down her tummy and abdomen to just between her legs, tracing where the scar used to be. "After what happened there, I didn't need it to remind me of my revenge on Toluk anymore," she said simply, hinting at what must have transpired on that *mission*.

"You look incredible, Tinis," he said, repeating her given name. It seemed to suit her now more than it had before. Now that she was complete. They'd both overcome a lot to get to where they were, and the reward was going to be satisfying. He ran his hands down her sides, from just under the swell of her breasts to her hips. "All of you."

She then looked down, to between them, and gently ran her other hand up the inseam of Cass's thigh, smiling as his face went totally slack-jawed. Now, with all the hurt gone, all the feelings mutually understood, and nothing between them but skin, she pulled him down, opened herself, and guided him deep within, knowing that finally she could truly share herself; finally, she didn't have to search any more.

They began to move...

****

Lt. Colonel sh'Akledorian's Office, Gryphon Base, 2386

Several hours later, Cass gently withdrew from her for the last time, exhausted. He moved to lay down next to her on her bed, basking in both of their afterglows. They'd moved to her quarters after the first time, pausing just enough to clean up the Situation Room and sneak away. And they'd proceeded to spend much of the rest of the night together, alternately making love and catching up.

The final time had been something beyond imagination. A unique experience that only they could share. They'd donned the rings that merged their consciousness', and the resulting experience - feeling the effect of their own actions, and the pleasure that it caused both of them - had been overwhelmingly good; they were both completely exhausted.

"Tinis," he whispered, drawing her close. His eyelids were weighed down by the need for sleep, but he forced them open to look into her eyes. His sentimentality got the better of him. "Whatever tomorrow brings, we'll find a way."

She smiled, the smile that was always meant to be hers for so long, but had always seemed to escape her. The smile of complete contentment.

She snuggled closer to him, feeling the heat of his skin against hers. "Always, and forever, my love," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly with the emotion that filled her whole being like she had never been filled before.

"Always, and forever..."

Against all odds, love had finally found them. Maybe, just maybe, they *could* make it through anything... *together*.

Two forms, bound as one, slept silent through the night...

****

Mirusa VI, 2382

Cass's awareness returned gradually, over the course of a minute. He found himself embracing T'Shani a'Akledorian, standing in the middle of the desert. Their awarenesses were merged again, though he wasn't sure how; they were apparently far from the Nerru Guardian's chamber. He released her and took a step back, left speechless by what he'd just experienced with her.

She took a step back as well, falling backwards into the sandy desert floor. Strangely, the pain of her broken ribs was gone. She reached to touch her chest, finding not even a bruise. Then, she lifted her hand to her forehead, then the other as she found no trace of the deep gash to her brow.

A moment later, her body seemed to explode inside her with a *new* feeling, an enormous *energy* of pure euphoria seemingly shared by her's and Cassius's merged conciousnesses. Slowly, her memory returned to her, as she tried to pick herself up from the sand.

"Cass, did we just... " she trailed off, not sure *what* had exactly transpired. As she stood, once again, the confusion cleared from her mind, but the *other* concious - Cassius's mind - didn't. Quickly, she realized that there was something on her right ring finger...

"Cassius, look!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed at what was on *both* their fingers.

He raised his own right hand to look at the strange stonelike ring that rested on his his finger. He removed the item to examine it more closely, and was stunned to discover that T'Shani's presence within him disappeared with it. Hesitantly, he pushed the ring back onto his finger. She was back.

"That's... incredible."

She felt him both withdraw and return, echoing within her, and her within him. Each time drew a slight gasp from her lips, all the while her eyes studied the strange, gray-stone ring. She looked over to him, and took a step closer, a handsbreadth between them. "I guess we... *passed*?" she asked, not sure what else to call it.

Suddenly, an otherworldy force called once more to their minds as one:

~YES. THE FINAL CHALLENGE OF PROGRESS WAS PASSED, AND REWARDS DULY PRESENTED. THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN YOU HAS PROGRESSED,~ The Nerru Guardian pronounced in their thoughts. ~THOUGH THE FUTURE WE DISPLAY IS ONLY ONE POSSIBILITY, PERHAPS THIS EXPERIENCE WILL HELP YOU FIND IT, OR ONE LIKE IT. THESE RINGS ARE YOUR REWARD, TO REMIND YOU AND AID YOU IN THE PROGRESS OF UNDERSTANDING. THEY ARE KEYED TO YOU, AND WILL WORK FOR NO OTHERS.~

With that pronouncement, the presence that had been the Guardian of the Temple of the Nerru'vim, dissappeared.

T'Shani was about to respond, when all of the sudden her TEDD activated, while Cassius's communicator suddenly spurted forth static, followed by the sound of a very frantic voice.

[Commander, Lieutenant! We've been looking all over for you! The Imperial Guards are withdrawing. They tried to force their way into one of the temples that we were guarding, and when they opened fire on us, the guardian statues shot back,] the frightened voice of Rima Pennington burst from his comm-badge. [They're yelling something about turning their Gods against them. I don't understand... No wait. They think we manipulated their faith here. We're 'Heretics'. They're gone now, sirs. The Hammer of Progress is breaking orbit.]

T'Shani - still somewhat disoriented by her and Cass's shared experience - was surprised by the sudden burst of rapid information from Pennington regarding the Hydrans and The Hammer of Progress. Deftly, she looked at the specs on her TEDD, noting that all of her personell were now accounted for, somehow. Not wasting any time, she grabbed Cass's hand, feeling his ring in her own hand. She smiled slightly.

"Galaxy, two to beam up."

"CSI: Galaxy" - Part 1

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

Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counsellor/Second Officer

Lieutenant JG Nieca Rey'ol, Assistant Chief Tactical Officer

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff, Security Patrol

Ensign Kio, Medical Officer

Private Alliya Yhwalyan, Reconnaissance/Scout, SFMC Furies

****

0345, 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.

By the time Cass had changed back into his uniform and contacted the necessary departments for personnel, Security had already dispatched Lieutenant Krieghoff to keep the scene uncontaminated, and the young woman who had discovered the corpse, one of T'Shani's marines, available for questioning.

Appraising the situation, he wasn't really surprised by what he saw. Krieghoff stood silently by the door, keeping one eye on the skinny marine, who was making a point of not touching anything. Though he hadn't quite formed a position on the endless Victor Krieghoff debate, he did have to hand it to Security. If anyone could deter people from entering a room, it was Victor Krieghoff.

"What do we have, Lieutenant?" Cass asked the security man.

Victor turned and nodded to Henderson as he spoke. "The ambassador was murdered, sir," he said tonelessly. "He was tortured first. I see no signs of physical restraint, so some form of chemical restraint seems likely to prevent his fighting back during the torture. There was a woman present; the two of them consumed a quantity of Romulan ale and then had sex at least twice. I assume her to be the killer."

Cass glanced over at the ruined body of Ramir Omar, torn and burned by what his advanced intel training lead him to suspect were the contents of a Tal Shiar interrogation kit. He scratched his jaw. "That seems a likely assessment. Can you go into detail about how you came to those conclusions?"

"I know he was murdered," Victor began in his emotionless voice, "because some of the torture wounds are inflicted in places he couldn't reach at the correct angle without longer arms and an extra elbow or mechanical assistance - neither of which is present. I know there was a woman here and that they had sex because I can smell her and smell what they did. I know how many times they had sex, because the scent is too strong for just one encounter. The Romulan ale is on the table," he pointed, "and even though there is only one glass, Omar would not drink alone with a woman present when he wished to bed her, he would ply her with it as well in the hopes of weakening her resolve. Ergo she also drank and took her glass with her to prevent traces from being discovered on it." He turned back, his almost colorless blue eyes looking into Cass'. "I believe the woman killed him, because I see no signs of another individual."

~He's even more observant than I am,~ Cass thought, impressed. He had caught the bottle on the table... not to mention the enormous display case of Rihannsu cultural imports. The Border Patrol would have had a field day. As it was, it would just be impounded and sold back across the border, or supplied to deep cover agents on ch'Rihan. He also recognized the signs of a Tal Shiar interrogation death. But the woman? And the missing glass? Krieghoff was definitely the right one to lead the investigation. "Excellent work. Have you checked the computer records yet?"

Victor looked up at the ceiling. "I haven't checked his internal security monitors, but I expect to find them wiped. I plan to check the climate control logs as soon as the forensics team arrives and start work. Many people forget the logs are there, and that the number of people in a room and the types of activity they are engaged in can be derived from that information."

Cass offered a grim nod, sparing one last glimpse at the savaged corpse. "What a way to go," he shook his head, "Keep me appraised of any new developments. Medical and Counseling should be sending specialists down to help. I've given them explicit orders to follow your commands. As of now, you're in charge of the investigation into the death of Ambassador Omar."

"Yes, sir," Victor nodded. "I'll request additional personnel to secure the corridor and start checking alibis." He wondered if it had been Atole Tekri that had killed the Ambassador. She'd certainly more or less succeeded in eliminating her previous target, and the artificial insemination of Commander Corgan's child made sense in the light of her needing a reason to be aboard.

"Oh, before I forget... Lieutenant Rey'ol asked to be added to the next investigation, which is this one. She's looking to broaden her skills, so I need you to show her the ropes," the executive officer replied, locking eyes with Krieghoff again. There was something very wrong behind those eyes. "I'm sure you can handle that."

The question, Victor refrained from commenting, was not if he could handle it, but whether the Lieutenant could. He supposed he'd find out when everyone else did. Not that it mattered. "Yes, sir."

"That's all, though I do have a question," he replied, glancing meaningfully in the direction of Private Yhwalyan. "What should I do with Yhwalyan?"

That, at least, Victor had an answer for. "She'll need to be interviewed, sir. And her alibi checked, since she was the first on the scene." Victor looked at the young Private who was trying not to fidget in nervousness. "I think it best that someone beside me speak to her. She's already too nervous from being in close quarters with me."

Cass excused himself, turning his attention to the marine, who had waited patiently for him to finish talking to Krieghoff. "Private Yhwalyan, I'd like to discuss what you found," he said, noticing her severe discomfort in the room with such a... defiled corpse. Marines were made of hardy stock, but even time on a battlefield could leave you unprepared for the brutality of murder. "Would you like to step outside with me?"

Yhwalyan was glad to have a moment outside *that* room. The smell made even the most disciplined stomach turn. And if the defiled corpse didn't make her queasy, standing in a room with the security officer was bound to. His presence was quite profound, almost like something knocking on the inside of her head. None the less she tried not to let the man imitating death intimidate her in any way.

Her time with the Galaxy had not been extensive. In fact this was the 19 year old's second mission with the 4th Fleet's flagship and so far it wasn't a pleasant one. First the ruckus on Mirusa Six, and now a dead Ambassador. The Romulan Star Empire was going to want answers, and fast.

"Sir." She inclined her head and followed him out of the room. Taking a deep breath as she stepped into the corridor.

Behind him, Victor tapped his combadge and requested the Security Shift Supervisor, Ensign Khatowren, and then made a series of requests, starting with the necessary notification to Commander Corgan.

"Okay," Cass sighed, exhausted. He'd been about to go to sleep when Ekoma had called him to look into the murder. Now he probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. An ambassador from the Rihannsu Star Empire was dead, and it was obviously not natural. He'd have to call the President's office - probably talk to Abrik again. ~Frak. That's twice in two days.~

As soon as they were outside, Cass leaned against the wall. It was nearly 0400. Standing on ceremony wasn't a priority. Yhwalyan's marine training, on the other hand, was evident, as she stood at attention before him. A freckled, 19 year old kid. He'd been a second year academy cadet who didn't know jack at her age. "Okay, Yhwalyan. How did you find him?"

"I was on a routine patrol around the ship," Yhwalyan began in a quiet, yet confident tone, "The smell caught my attention. This was around 0230 hours. I firstly rang the chime. When there was no response, I then overrode the door lock. After entering I immediately called security, that was at 0300 hours." Her military training taught her the importance of being precise, and clear, epically when reporting to a superior officer. Although she had been trained in many fields, this one she hadn't been as prepared for as she would have liked. Although she was quite adapt at masking her feelings on such matters, because after all marines didn't have feelings.

"I take it you had the presence of mind not to disturb anything?" Cass suggested, hoping it was the truth. He was confident that Krieghoff could handle it, but any complications were going to be hard to explain to Admiral Abrik. And politically speaking, this was about as complicated as it got.

She found the question slightly insulting, did he think that she was trained by an inadequate? "The room is exactly as I found it, nothing has been touched and no one has entered except myself and Mr. Krieghoff," she replied locking on to Henderson's eyes.

"Thank you, Private. I appreciate that more than I can say," Cass breathed a sigh of relief. "Is this your normal patrol route?"

"Yes sir." Yhwalyan replied. "If you need confirmation of my route and orders Lieutenant London can assist you," she said helpfully, although her eyes front stance hadn't changed and her tone was quite flat.

Alliya was a proud woman, she held herself tall, with a grace; one which no amount of marine training could impart upon a cadet. It was something she had taught herself; even though she was a marine she was still, after all, a lady. But she carried herself this way so she would not be overlooked. She was aware that her age was a problem to some; she was far younger than the man in front of her, but she felt secure in the knowledge that she could do things that he couldn't, and she was dam good at what she did. And that was all that mattered. That along with not looking weak in the eyes of a man.

Epically if that man was A) older than you, a LOT older, B) if that man was a superior officer, C) that he had a problem with the fact that you were so young, and was actively thinking about just how young she was..... and D) being that she hated looking weak and feeble, because people tended to pick up on that and blame it on her age or lack of experience and that just pissed her off. No one bothered to ask 'how' someone so young was a marine they just tended to ask the 'how' (on earth) did she do it, what were Starfleet thinking she is 'just a kid' blar blar blar.

"Private, did you just *scan* me?" Cass asked, anger rising in the back of his throat. As a member of SFI's covert operations department, he'd been trained to withstand any telepathic scrutiny that went beyond a simple surface scan. And even those he could turn aside when he needed to. Still, with so many secrets to his name, Cass wasn't the sort who allowed casual scans. He locked his eyes with hers, and locked his mental shields into place, shutting her probe out.

Now why the hell did she suddenly feel her head explode? Why now when she was standing before this man did this blinding pain course though her mind? So far she had had three headaches, but no nausea, though that was until she discovered the ambassador! The first of these headaches had been a dull ach, enough to irritate but not enough to push the hardened marine to go to sick bay. The pain had come and gone without assistance. The second had caught her off guard and had been worse; the dull ach had been upgraded to a throbbing that continued monotonously. The third upgrade was to the sort of headache that hurt much more every time you moved your head. And now this made four, and this upgrade was *not* what she ordered!!!

It felt like someone had taken a serrated blade and was continuously thrusting it into her head, over and over, combined with the previous symptoms of all of the first three headaches.

Little spots of light flooded her vision, she blinked to try and rid herself of them, but it didn't work and she folded onto her knees, Yhwalyan reflectively reached out to grab hold of something to break her fall as she buckled to the deck beneath her.

As the headache threatened to split her skull, she began to hear voices. At first it was Henderson's. She thought he was talking to her, and for a moment she could read his surface thoughts, but then his mental shields deflected her, and she could only hear his voice. But as soon as she could make sense of what he was saying another voice entered her mind, and another and then all she could hear were voices. Like being in the mess hall but there were just too many voices, she couldn't understand them, she couldn't make out what they were telling her. And they got louder as every split second another voice joined the hundreds and then there were thousands and Yhwalyan couldn't take the noise, it just increased the pain in her head.

Curled on her knees, her hands supporting her, her head banged to the deck below and she covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, trying breathlessly to scream out "SHUT UP!" but her voice was a whisper.

Cassius moved to grab her and help her to her feet, but she crawled away from him, muttering something unintelligible. He followed her into Omar's quarters, unsure of what was wrong with her. Something, clearly. A person didn't just sway and fall over when they were forcibly ejected from another person's thoughts.

Yhwalyan wanted to punch something, anything if it would just make everyone shut up! Her little finger strayed from defending her ears and clawed at the carpet. Her teeth clenched together as the pain increased, fuelled by the voices. She tried not to cry out as the unbearable agonizing 'slice and dice' continued in her head. But she couldn't recognize her own thoughts, let alone distinguish her own voice. The only thing she did know was that she wanted to stand up, her training had been drilled into her so much that the only thing her body knew how to do in a crisis was stand straight with eyes front!

Reaching out she grabbed hold of something, just happened to be Krieghoff's shoe. Turning her head a fraction, one eye looked up at him, straining in its eye socket. He was emotionless, devoid of heart, remorse, guilt and conscious. All the things that made her spine shiver and her stomach churn. It made every hair on her body stand on end and sent adrenaline to every muscle, her mind screamed RUN. But as she locked on to his mind, so empty and cold, so extremely quiet the other voices were drowned out. Leaving her with a chilling sensation of sheer fear, the unused adrenaline made her body shake, but the silence... the silence alleviated the pain from the mindless thrum of voices.

She reached up, her hand shaking wildly, and took hold of his arm, her body retreated from him but her hand held on with a fierce grip. It was like trying to push two magnets together by facing their opposing poles, a barrier created in the middle, you could only get so far before each of them spun out of your hand, landing on the floor. What's the call? Heads or tails? Krieghoff's mind felt like that; an eternal coin toss, never knowing which side of the penny was going to land face up. She felt it was tails right now; he watched their backs, scouting for danger - something, she ironically though, they had in common. But when the coin flipped, he would have no qualms with sinking his teeth in, spilling hot crimson blood on to the deck and licking it up. She shuddered again as she regained her balance. Her eyes locked on to Krieghoff.

"Kreighoff, I think she's in telepathic shock," Cass said, stepping over to where the marine was looking up at the security officer. The signs were about right, though there was soemthing... abnormal about the whole thing. Fate could not have picked a worse time.

"CSI: Galaxy" - Part 2

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

Commander Karyn Dallas, Chief Counsellor/Second Officer

Lieutenant JG Nieca Rey'ol, Assistant Chief Tactical Officer

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff, Security Patrol

Ensign Kio, Medical Officer

Private Alliya Yhwalyan, Reconnaissance/Scout, SFMC Furies

****

0400, Ambassador Omar's VIP Guest Quarters, Deck 9, USS Galaxy

And that was when the medical team arrived, escorted by Lieutenant JG Rey'ol, who had asked to join the next shipboard investigation as a way to expand her skill base.

Karyn Dallas followed just behind the medical team, her somewhat wrinkled uniform and tousled hair reflecting the swiftness with which her personal assistant had tried to wake her up and get her dressed. Word of a homicide was like smelling salts to her system, however, and a splash of cold water to the face was about all it took to get her alert mentally if she did not look it physically.

Dallas stopped in her tracks as she came upon Krieghoff and the young female Marine in the quarters. Karyn was uncomfortable around Victor for her own reasons already, and she got the distinct impression that she had interrupted something unpleasant. She cleared her throat, deciding she'd speak to the Private on her own later. She was a Marine, but she had also found a corpse. It had to be an upsetting and potentially traumatic experience.

Karyn nodded grimly. "Private, Lieutenant. Lieutenant, is it safe for me to enter the crime scene? I don't wish to contaminate evidence, but I'd appreciate it if the evidence and facts could be somehow relayed to me. If you'd prefer me to avoid bringing my grav-chair into the room, photos and scans will suffice."

Victor frowned at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, Counselor, not yet. After the forensic team checks things, then you can go in - I'll have them wait to move the remains until you have a chance to see things as they are, undisturbed."

"Thank you," Karyn replied, moving to the side to keep well clear of Kreighoff.

Before Nieca even rounded the corner to the guest quarters the smell of blood filled her nose... the smell of blood with it's rich iron odor. Whenever she was subjected to large quantities of the substance it always made her flustered and foggy.

As the medics began to crouch over the victim, Rey'ol slinked around the perimeter of the room, her eyes locked on the stiff and lifeless body. She tried to imagine what it would be like to kill this man herself... what she would have done to create such an ugly corpse.

Pausing by the bed Nieca caught the sudden sent of a familiar yet taboo odor, she squatted by the bed and its tangled sheets and inhaled once more.

Meanwhile Kio and the other medical officer approached what was left of Ramir Omar. Kio had never been in a situation like this one before, never seen the insides of a man on such display. But she was a medical officer and a Vulcan so she would rather be eaten by a Titanii Werebat than show a twinge of an ear at the grim scene before her. It appeared, she thought, that Ramir Omar had been eaten from the inside out...but of course there would be a much more logical explanation. Most unfortunately there was also a miasma of heady smells in the room which her acute sense of smell could do little to miss. It would appear that Omar's last moments were not necessarily all unpleasant.

Due to recent events in medical (much of which she could not recall) her mental hold over her emotions was not at its best, but all the same her exterior remained calm as she began an initial scan of the body. Her fellow medical officer was scanning the area about his remains and after a moment he spoke out in puzzlement. "I am scanning for DNA, but there does not seem to be trace of anyone besides the deceased on or near the body," he said.

Kio frowned. "Ramir Omar appears to hold traces of poisons and alcohol in his body, I conclude he may have been paralyzed before he was finally mutilated with a bladed instrument. I am also seeing great trauma to his internal organs, but there does not appear at present to be a causality...we may investigate further in sickbay one the body is transported to the morgue." She said and then her attention once more switched to the area around Omar and she began a wider scan of the room with her instrument. "You are correct. There is no trace of *any* DNA in this room save of those people present," she said presently.

She looked across at the man in charge, Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff, and she thought she recognized his formidable person from a past encounter, the side of her face itching in response. But she had no time to dwell upon this, she had something important to impart. "Sir." She greeted him shortly.

She was, Victor realized, the Vulcan that had attacked him in sickbay. He wondered if she would remember the incident. "Ensign," he returned in a voice as toneless as hers.

"The assailant of the ambassador would appear to have left the scene without leaving behind any of their DNA. I may possibly have an explanation."

Apparently not, Victor decided. Or if she did, she'd decided to pretend that it hadn't happened. One never knew with Vulcans. "Which is?"

"There are only a few logical explanations. The assailant may have been wearing a protective uniform, but this seems unlikely as it would appear that they performed intimate acts upon the deceased before killing him." She found her-self becoming a little confused using the word "intimate" in front of Lieutenant Krieghoff. "The second option would be to use an automated devise, but again this is impossible as although it would clear his sexual partner from blame there is still a lack of *any* DNA here, save his own. The only option, and I believe the truth of the matter, is that a small D.S.N was used."

"A DSN?" Victor ran through the list of current and obsolete Starfleet equipment in his head. He knew of at least three things that could use those initials, but none of them fit the description of something that would erase DNA traces.

"A DNA Sonic Needle. It is a device used to target one set only of DNA after a person has left a room so that it would appear they were never there. The only drawback to such a tool is that it cannot be retrieved once that person has left the scene. I believe a more extensive search should uncover it - should I be correct of course."

Which meant that she'd probably already scanned for the device and located it; Vulcans were never wrong when they were being pedantic. "Once the initial sweep is done in the area, go back over things looking for it, then," Victor advised. "We need to determine what evidence the assassin left us before she departed first, in case removing the device disturbs something."

"She wasn't human." Nieca stood and moved to stand next to Victor. "Despite the amount of perfume she wore, what odors she did leave were not human..." She glanced at the Terran briefly. "Humans smell like sour milk."

Victor looked at the Caitian, the Vulcan, the trembling Ensign who was still clutching his arm, and at Commander Henderson, standing a pace away, trying to figure out what was happening with the marine but unwilling to intrude lest he disrupt whatever balance she'd found. First thing, Victor decided, first. You dealt with the living because the dead were past caring.

"Ensign," he said to Kio. "The Private here is experiencing some kind of difficulty, perhaps similar to that you encountered in Sickbay yesterday. See if she is experiencing the same neurological issues and give her whatever Doctor Artim gave you to make them stop - we need her to be functional."

Kio inclined her head in agreement.

"Private," he said, turning to Alliya. "Let the Ensign scan you and take the injection if that's what you need. You don't want to feel like that any more than you want to walk around grabbing my arm to keep from falling."

Alliya shook her head, well in fact she just turned it slowly from side to side, "I'm not holding on to you purely for balance, Sir." She replied in a whisper. "There are too many voices," she explained, "you are the only mind that is.... silent..." she concluded not really knowing at this moment how best to describe him. In fact she felt protected by him; being in his presence, surrounded by him, touching him, all the things she *never* wanted to do when she first met him, and at the same time wanted to throw him out the nearest airlock, the first thought she had when she met him, just to be away from him, to be away from his presence and his overbearing mind. It was such a powerful contradiction.

Victor supposed that made sense. The emptiness inside him was as silent as space when he listened to it. That didn't mean that he wanted the young girl hanging on his arm for the duration of this investigation and beyond, though. She needed to find her own silence, this was his.

"Lieutenant," he turned to Nieca, voice still toneless. "If she wasn't human, then what was she? Andorian? Vulcan? Romulan? Something else? Before I assign you to walk around and sniff every woman aboard ship in the act of having sex, it might be nice to narrow the field."

“Lieutenant,” he turned to Nieca, voice still toneless. “If she wasn’t human, then what was she? Andorian? Vulcan? Romulan? Something else? Before I assign you to walk around and sniff every woman aboard ship in the act of having sex, it might be nice to narrow the field.”

Nieca chuckled "If my nose was that good, do you think I would be stuck on this ship?" She teased before growing serious again.

"Due to the other odors in the room, it's hard for me to pin point it. But I would have to say Vulcan or Romulan... or someone that has assimilated to one of those cultures."

Alliya swallowed hard, she had regained her balance, mentally, but her body still shook; the reaction to being in a room with Victor, but still she would not let go of him. "She, whoever 'she' is still on board the ship." She said quietly, frowning. "I could hear her thoughts, I think it was hers... but there were so many voices, I couldn't tell for sure." She stared at Victor, "I could try and find 'her' with telepathy....?" She asked.

"Negative," Victor said flatly, even as Commander Henderson had opened his mouth to speak. "You're the fourth telepath that I've personally seen losing control in the last 48 hours, which means your power might not be reliable. It's also a violation of so many regulations to have you invading other crewmen's thoughts like that we'd be here tomorrow if I listed them all. If I catch you doing it, then you're going into the hole next to the person who did this. Understood?"

"Which you unlawfully did to me about five minutes ago," Cass said, "I'm ordering you to report to sickbay and remain there until the CMO tells me you're released for duty. Ensign Jeffries, escort her there, please."

The security ensign lead Private Yhwalyan from the room, though she immediately began to protest.

Kio took advantage of the understandable silence that followed this statement to scan the woman and was unsurprised to find that she displayed strong signs of the neurological disorder she her-self had suffered under. She had taken to carrying a plentiful supply of the devises that clipped easily to the back of the neck and tapped into the brain stem to still the activity. She wished she was not so busy as looking further into the firing of neurons in the dead zone of their minds would have been greatly intriguing to her enquiring mind, but as it was she other things to attend to.

She walked across the room and peered into the rim of the window. There, just as she suspected, was the Sonic Needle. She wasted no time in pointing this out and saw that Victor was not at all surprised. He seemed to her to present an interesting challenge...and then she remembered. It was he she had attacked in sick bay, it was he who had bruised the side of her face...something that was now no longer visible but her jaw bone still ached. "I must thank you Lieutenant for your earlier intervention in sick bay. I do not believe that the affair would have ended well if you had not been present."

"It's what I do," Victor said in his quiet, toneless voice. "I solve problems." He blinked once and then abruptly changed the topic. "You said something about the DSN earlier?"

"There will obviously be no DNA residue on the Needle, but I believe this may be a valuable clue. The person who committed this murder was a professional; this was no once off killing. This devise is not widely available and it is possible that she might be traced through a supplier, but I believe we can assume that whoever planned this will have covered their tracks efficiently else where. We can also assume she was not under the influence of the recent affliction affecting the telepaths on board the Galaxy as there has been a firm indication that this has lead to a more base need for violent gratification." She allowed her-self to catch Victors eye at this, recent events still in her mind. "It is more likely that she saw this as a good time to commit a murder."

"The markings on the body are however not the work of a person looking to make a quick and efficient killing. There was emotion involved here, revenge a high probability. This man was made to suffer, taken from the pleasures of the body to the agony of a slow death in moments. It is likely he knew the assailant as if it were revenge there must be a history, has anyone questioned the security staff? I would have thought he would have a detail attached to him and they would have a record of who he interacted with on the Galaxy?"

"The Ambassador refused a Starfleet security detail and relied on his own personnel," Victor replied. "Locating them and determining who he was with last, and why they aren't present now is the next step."

"So the assailant was a non human female of a fairly attractive cast I would imagine who was acquainted with the deceased and was not a telepath. She is obviously highly dangerous, we must find out who was guarding the door before the murder took place, it is possible the killer may have further business to attend to."

"I've alerted Security and they're tracking down the Romulan security detail now. We'll know if one of them is missing soon enough," Victor noted. "I saw you take the scan, is the Private's problem similar to the one you had?"

"Affirmitive."

"How long does the treatment take to work?" Victor asked. "She still knows things we need to." Among them, how to tell her fingers to let go of Victor's arm. "As soon as the crime scene is done, I'll be tracking down the whereabouts of the only confirmed Tal Shiar assassin aboard to eliminate her as a suspect." He paused. "One way or another."

"That sounds like an excellent plan. Be sure you question the Rihannsu Naval Intelligence Liaison, Major T'Riasau," Cass replied. He had to leave, but before he did he needed to establish a list of people to be consulted. "Ensign DiMillo was keeping tabs on the ambassador during his stay. You'll need to talk to him as well. I'd send Lieutenant' Rey'ol to talk to Omar's staff, Sub-Altern Himne and Arrain Valarkiek, his head bodyguard. And beyond that... go over this place with a fine toothed comb."

"Now, I need too go inform Starfleet Command and the Security Advisor of what has happened here. The son of the Rihannsu Proconsul's death on a Federation starship is going to have dire ramification for our relations with the Rihannsu."

"You're in charge until I return, Lieutenant Kreighoff."

OOC: Content alluded to but not done on "camera".

"Unexpected Things"

Featuring: Second Lieutenant Greg Ward
SFMC Blue Team Commander/ARC Operations Command-USS Galaxy

Ensign Teryn Wilat
Flight Control Officer-USS Galaxy

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

Location: the office of 2nd LT. Greg Ward, "Marine Country"-USS Galaxy

Greg Ward was filling out some paperwork that he knew was coming after he read the PADD that Furji had given him a while earlier about what ARC unit which bore the name "Dead Cell" under the command of Colonel Dillon Everett. Greg slammed the the PADD down on his desk, Everett was a disgrace to the core. During the Dominion War, Everett had attempted to take command of Major Flowers' unit when Flowers refused to follow what Flowers felt was an illegal order which it turned out to be. Dillon was also the same man who tried to order Greg into merging his ARC unit with his on board a special operations starship which was involved in the battle of the Sol Asteroid Belt.

Greg was about to grab his uniform's jacket and go to get something hard to drink when operations contacted him from the bridge. "This is lieutenant T'Rehn to second lieutenant Ward. You have a message from a Saria Ordo, director of the Trill Science Academy." the female voice said

Greg's right eyebrow went up in a confused manner, "Very well lieutenant, I'll accept the message. Put it through on the monitor in my office." Greg responded after he tapped his comm-badge and sat back down and moved the terminal screen towards him as he activated the channel. Saria Ordo looked to be more like somone's grandmother than the head of one of the federation's most prestigous schools, the banner of the Trill Science Academy hung in the background behind her.

"Leftant Ward, it is good to see you again. I take it that you've been keeping busy?" Saria asked as she folded her hands in front of her as she smiled at the screen.

"In a sense, ma'am. What can I do for you?" Greg asked, somewhat concerned about what the head of the academy would be calling him as he raised an eyebrow which was no doubt wasn't lost on the other trill.

"Leftant, I am contacting you to let you know that the academy has processed your request to apply to continue your correspondence with the academy has been approved. Congradulations, leftenant." Director Ordo expained to which Greg smiled, he'd been waiting on that application for over six months, before the Akula had crashed on Trill.

"I guess this is a good sign that the Akula's crash a few weeks ago hasn't permentally stopped the pursuit of knowledge, just the pursuit of keeping paperwork, yes?" Greg asked as he chuckled just a little bit.

"Of course, Mister Ward. That is the way of the universe." Director Ordo said with a smile on her face. "I look forward to your paper, have a good day leftanant." she said and then the channel was closed with the insigna of the trill science academy before it went back to the sigil of the SFMC-ARC Command which then went to black as Greg signed off of the terminal and leaned back in his chair, a smile was very evident on his face. He was keeping a promise to his father when he first told his father about his choice to join the core back in 2360.

Greg got out of his chair and headed to his quarters, when he got there he changed out of his uniform and slipped into a pair of gray uniform pants with a black commando shirt and he was about to sit down on his couch when he thought of something. He moved over to his desk and activated the terminal there and a few seconds later, he was greeted with the face of Teryn Wilat who looked like she'd just gotten out of a shower as her hair was wet. "Lieutenant Ward? What can I do for you sir?" she asked him, blushing just a little.

"Well, I just got some really good news from my homeworld and I was wanting to share it with someone and I thought I'd share it with you first." he said as he sat down in his chair. "I just got the go ahead to continue my correpsondence with the trill science academy." he told her

"Wow, that's impressive. I knew that and the VSA were two of the hardest schools to get into aside from the klingon warrior academy and the andorian Colonel Shran ch'Dragov imperial guard academy. So why did you think about telling me first?" Wilat asked with a raised eyebrow

"Well, I thought that since I was just getting off shift and I was wondering if you had some time to kill.." Greg asked which made the older man blush just a little bit but he saw that Wilat was blushing just a little bit too which made him feel a little bit better.

"Well, I did get off shift and I was thinking about just bumming around here so to speak but I don't see why I can't come over to your quarters and hang out, Greg." she responded with a small smile on her face. "Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Yes actually, I was wondering if you had anything stronger than what you can get normally from ten forward. Between the good news and the news that I was dealing with before I got that news if you understand me?" Greg said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Wilat nodded, she'd had days like that on the Galaxy and the Terrain before that. "I've got something that I think that you might enjoy trying, it's a bottle of something from 2352 though, that strong enough for you..or would you like stronger?" she asked, a slight smile appearing on her face.

"Why, do you have romulan ale?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Romulan Ale? No, I wouldn't drink that swill if my life depended on it. On the other hand, I do have a really old bottle of kanar that I've been saving for a special occasion." she said with a soft voice, as if there might be someone listening in on the channel. "A bottle of twenty three oh three that is..."

"Twenty three oh three?! I really don't want to know how you came across that but I think this counts as one of those occasions. Go ahead and bring it, the door's unlocked but I am going to grab a shower before you get here though, dress for comfort rather than a state dinner okay?" he said with a smile and a wink.

"Alright, I'll there shortly." Wilat said as she smiled and then closed the channel, leaving the trill marine to head off to the bathroom part of his quarters to grab the aforementioned quick shower.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

OOC: Suggested listening-"American Woman" and "Heaven's a Lie" by Lacuna Coil

Time: A few minutes later, about five or six give or take...

Teryn Wilat entered the quarters of Second Lieutenant Ward and she heard a strange thing coming out of the bathroom area of the quarters, it sounded like some kind of old music which sounded like something from Earth's past. It was a type of music that she wasn't familar with, it sounded strange as it was about something called an "american woman" and it sounded like Bail Torvana, one of the more famous Bolian singers would do but it was most certainly wasn't something that one would hear from a marine, especially not one like Ward.

Wilat took a look around the living room portion of his quarters, there was an assortment of small momentos ranging from a holo-picture of Greg and a couple of other people including a shot of an older man with shoulder length blonde hair wearing a pair of sunglasses wearing the same kind of marine armor that she saw Greg and Grace wear when she first met them, only he had a strange insigna on his collar where Greg had a single gold bar on his collar. The blonde haired man had an arm over Greg's shoulders and a huge smile on his face like the blonde man was a proud father and Greg was his son. The picture was taken apparentally in front of the remains of a shattered assault vehicle of some sort and from the lines, it appeared to be a Dominion assault vehicle-perhaps the J-32 as it was called by her friend over in Tactical.

"That photo was taken after the second battle of Vulcan, it was right after we managed to route the dominion forces. The blonde guy is my old CO and a man that I looked up to in Major Roland Flowers or as "Dog" because he was one very determinded guy. I mean once he took the unit behind enemy lines to get Donut back after he was captured by a cardassian detachment during the war with the dominion. He carried Donut over one shoulder while Tim and me kept him covered. Now that was a fun mission." Greg's voice came from behind Wilat and she turned around and saw Greg was finishing pulling on a black shirt. He was wearing a pair of gray pants along with the shirt and his ever present dog tags. Wilat blushed a little when she caught herself actually thinking that he looked damn good for a man in his mid-30's. She quickly caught herself and held up the bottle of 2303 Kanar and presented it to him.

Greg took the kanar and let out a low whistle, it was a bottle of 2303. "All I can say is damn, Wilat and I really, *really* don't want to know how you came across this." he said as he lead her over to the seating area and offered her a seat while he went to grab two short glasses from the kitchen area. He then looked at the bottle and the glasses then at Wilat who just kind of smiled and took the bottle from him.

"Here let me do it, Greg." she said, still smiling as she opened the bottle and poured the kanar into the glasses and handed one to him while she took the other. Then she held up her glass and said "To old stories..."

Greg held up his glass and said "and to new tales." then he tapped his glass against her's and took a drink from his glass. He hadn't had kanar before and thought that the cardassian drink was much like cardassian orcha juice which was tart like the terran cranberry but also had a pleasent taste like the terran grape. But instead, kanar was slightly syurpy and it was strong.

Well, strong in the sense that one could use kanar to help burn a hole through abalative armor, but that was just Greg who preferred a good stout ale from the Corvallis colony or the occasional flute of Trill rapeg wine. But then again, Greg was a strange kind of guy.

He smiled after he drank the kanar, sometimes all it took was a simple drink to help forget about the bad times.. ==================================

A while later, the bottle was more than half empty while the two were sitting on the sofa and Greg was telling Wilat stories about some of the insanity that the members of the unit that formed his ARCs had done in their down time prior to the assignment on the USS Titan which lead the entire unit to the Galaxy.

"And then, Caboose in his usual way told Tucker that he liked himself and that made Furji almost spit his drink on a visiting admiral of the eighth fleet!" Greg said before he took a drink of his kanar. He couldn't care less if the station was about to explode into a mass of tribbles, what mattered most was the fact that he was enjoying spending sometime with someone outside of his usual circle.

Wilat, like Greg, was feeling the drink enough that she decided to do something that she normally do when she was sober which was stand up and she walked over to where Greg was. She then took the drink out of his hands and then straddled his lap, much to his confusion. "You have to forgive me.." she said as she bent down and kissed him on the lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. After a few seconds, she broke the kiss and was worried that she had insulted him as she pulled back, blushing very hard.

"Oh god, I'm sor.." she started to stammer out when he reached up and gently caressed the left side of her face and bent up and gently kissed her on the lips while his arms went around her waist and kissed her for a few seconds before he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.

"don't apologize, you've got nothing to worry about if you're doing something that you feel is right." he said as he looked at her.

She nodded and stood up, smiling while she did so. She went over to the desk and tapped in a few controls and then a strange little song started to play which was kind of haunting.

#Oh no,#
#here it is again#
#I need to know#
#when I will fall in decay#

#Something wrong#
#with every plan of my life#
#I didn't really notice that you've been here#

#Dolefully desired#
#Destiny of a lie#

#Set me free#
#your heaven's lie#
#set me with your love#
#set me free#

Wilat walked over back over to where Greg was and slowly started to move with the music, almost like she was being swept up into it like a siren's call but she made her way over to where he was and once again straddled his lap and held his face for a second and then bent down and kissed him as hard as she could. After a few minutes, her lungs burned for air and she broke the kiss.

"You know, I've got a secret to tell you..would you like to hear it?" she said softly as the music continued to play in the background.

Greg could only nod, normally he didn't think himself as attractive especially since what happened Dina all of those years ago during the Cardassian War which lead to the events of the Maquis and all of the hard travelling years in between.

But here he was, with an attractive woman in his quarters and mostly dead bottle of really old drink on his table. The sober portion of his mind realized that while he didn't plan any of what had happened so far but it reflected on how similar this was to his first encounter with Dina. It was quick and sudden, but Dina like Wilat was able to see apart of him that no one hardly saw because they all felt that all marines were was unthinking and unfeeling killing machines of the federation.

No better than the Jem'Hadar in some opinions....

At this point, his mind stopped talking when Wilat leaned over and whispered something into his ear that slowly made him start to blush hard. When she pulled back, she was blushing too and breathing just a little bit more.

"Are..are you serious?" Greg asked, unsure what to make of what she had told him. Wilat merely nodded and then simply pulled her shirt off with a deft moment and then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Would I have done that if I wasn't?" Wilat said simply, "Just let go, there won't be any regrets I promise." she said softly and then she kissed Greg again and didn't hold anything back and neither did he..

"It"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

If black were a feeling, this was how it would feel.

If silence were water, he would drown.

If numbness were luminous, a million stars couldn't outshine it.

Somewhere, buried within the almost lifeless form that lay strapped to a cold biobed, something of the essence of Brian Elessidil remained. Barely.

Relatively speaking, the events that precipitated his virtual disintegration to this state occurred quickly, rapidly accelerating through his body to his mind until the very consciousness that defined him as an individual collapsed in on itself. Only the barest flicker of self-awareness remained. "It" was the only appropriate appellation now, any trace of what could be called "him" locked deeply away, frozen and undetectable.

It didn't know where It was or even where It was not, all differentiation of the otherness of place, people and things blurred into an endless haze. It had no sense of physical discomfort or pain, indeed no sense of physical existence at all. Thought was banished. Emotion, snuffed out. There was no memory or comprehension of time at all to mark the difference between "then" and "now".

It was alone.

Basal functions operated autonomously at the physical level, sustaining the container but no longer offering any connection to the outside; something that in itself could have been interpreted as an act of self-preservation, as it was through such connection -- telepathic and empathic connection specifically -- that the imposition of this state of quasi-life occurred. But far below, where It now existed, only a single thread of energy, a pattern that no longer conveyed meaning, persisted.

Please help me . . . I'm still here. Help me . . .

It couldn't know how this basic electrical charge that reiterated through a repeated cycle of synapses had been branded there. It couldn't interpret this physical manifestation or provide it with any context. The two simply co-existed, It and the energy pattern, trapped in the same physical place but entirely isolated from each other and everything else.

If there was a key to unlock them, it would have to come from outside.

"Logs: Prologue"

Lt.JG Cain Forrester
Chief Historian

Stardate: Current

Accessing Audio Logs for Lieutenant Junion Grade Forrester, Cain.

Playing file Galaxy-1

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

This is the personal log of Cain Forrester, Lt.JG, Chief Historian, USS Galaxy-blah blah blah.

Hmm. First thoughts on this ship. It's a prestigeous ship with a misfit yet closenit crew. A crew thats been through alot of shit together. Meh, I'm gonna stop kissing their asses now. It's definitely advanced, and a powerful vessel, even before the recent refit following the Battle of Havras. I accessed her historical logs from my small station in the science labs and did a full research project on her and her voyages. An amazing little journey she's had. Been shot up alot too. Formerly commanded by Robert E. Lee Price, who I had the pleasure of meeting back in the Academy. Meh. More like a passing inspection of my Temporal Physics class.

Anyways, the crew itself is an interesting bunch, but they appear to be acting strangely lately. That or the lot of them is always this ornery and pissy. Way too much tension, been picking up a little of it myself. When I first reported to the CSO, Lt.JG Hunter, she seemed alright, calm, and seemed to ease my nerves a little bit....I dunno. But I saw her at a later time and she was off the wall. I instinctively made myself disappear. She had pointed ears, must have been a half-vulcan or something.

When I reported to sickybay for a physical, I was examined by a Vulcan by the name of Kio. Ensign Kio. She was very cold, and distant, as if something was bothering her. Later on that day, I returned to sickbay after shocking myself on a faulty console, and met two people that bother the hell out of me already. Lt.JG Dr. Jack Slen, and a hologram named Dr.Axl. I questioned them about the previous CMO Dr. Fienberg. Dr. Slen threatened to kick my ass then left. The Hologram was a bit more forth-coming. He said that Dr. Fienberg returned from the surface following the last mission, but disappeared without a trace shortly afterward leaving only an engimatic message and his wife. Slen is a highly sarcastic, arrogant and bitter man. He's half trill I think....I could have sworn I saw spots.

I met Slen again about 2 hours later. I was supposed to be on my duty shift...doing something, I don't know what. Hunter didn't assign me anything. Thats about when I took it upon myself to research the Galaxy's history. Well, anyways, I was down in 10-forward with a cup of ruby-red grapefruit juice and a padd at the bar, just reading. He approached me and asked me what I knew about Fienberg. I told him all I knew, that Commodore Savage had refered me to him since I picked the Galaxy as my next assignemnt. he seemed overly agitated and irritable, but when I offered him some pizza and a drink, he glared at me, but I noticed he didn't give them back.

I decided to continue my "Work" in the Library. A Vulcan Ensign named Sar, was currently on duty and glared at me the entire time I was in there. This shifted to an "evil" look when I replicated a large pizza. We'd met before when I first came aboard so he basically told him in a very blunt and almost mean tone, "Lt. Forrester, please refrain from making the Library Greasy."

He was right of course, so I replicated some napkins and let that be the end of it. Everyone seems to be on Edge for some reason.

Supplimental:

Well, We're going somewhere for some reason, but I forget where and Why. But I've noticed that people are getting more and more irritable and agitated as we get closer. I've also noticed something else. While some humans appear to be affected, I've noticed that it's those with telepathic abilities that are the most pissed. Vulcans, Betazoids, the Trill(Dr. Slen for example....although I'm sure that he isn't joined. It's probably from the Hybrid Genetic Structure.) Hell I dunno. I just know They're pissed, and I'm going to avoid them until they come off it.

Supplimental:

I couldn't sleep. Very slight but nagging headache. I dunno why. So I got up and went for a walk. Decided to check one of my favourite places on a ship, Ventral Maintenance. There was no one on shift down there, so I just hung out, and set up my antique "Television" and "Playstation 2." I finally got tired...then remembered that I needed to haul those damn things back up to my quarters. I was dead asleep by the time I layed down in bed. Well, better end this and go to my station before Hunter "hunts" me down. Maybe I can actually be on time for a shift today.

OOC: Alot of Cain's posts will be Historical Audio logs like this one. Episode Title first, then Logs, then the log number.

"Creepiness" - Part 3

Commander James Corgan, Chief of Security/Hazard Team CO
Major Corran Rex, Vanguard Squadron CO
Lieutenant JG Claire Barnes, Security Officer/HT XO
Lieutenant JG T'lan, Hazard Team Specialist
Ensign Marcus Slayton, Engineer

******* Deep Space Five *******

*Kthuk* *Kthuck* went the suction cups, suckling and slurping on the duranium lined turbolift shaft. Feet shuffled into toeholds, and if they were lucky, handholds could be used in the arduous climb to the top.

T'lan and Corgan had no easy time climbing the turbolift. In a stroke of negative luck, they found the emergency ladder bars for the last fifteen decks melted by a high powered phaser.

To make matters worse, the bottom of the turbolift shaft, zoomed in and outlined in infrared held the wreckage of a turbolift pod, torn as if made from paper mache. The turbolift was empty of life.

Somebody, best to James knowledge, didn't want anyone to reach ops.

T'lan still battled the unknown uneasiness that struck all psykers in the area. As they came closer to ops, the symptoms gradually turned worse. She sweat more freely, and even her breath turned more ragged. She still insisted on moving, her Vulcan stubbornness (or resolve, if being stubborn was too 'emotional') always allowing one foot to move in front of the other.

T'lan and Corgan reached the main turbolift doors to Ops. An emergency panel was blown out, its internals handing out like ropey intestines. The doors were intact. Blast resistant to withstand phaser fire and plasma torches, James found it odd that the doors were not welded shut. The standard servo mechanisms weren't even locked down.

"Together now." James beckoned T'lan. Sticking the suction cups to the turbolift door, James and T'lan pried them open. When the door parted enough for a body to squeeze through, James came in first.

The sight he saw astounded him.

The Ops Centre of any starbase was a huge affair, more encompassing than even the bridge of the USS Galaxy. It was an area of station that could fit, with much shoehorning, one of the Galaxy's larger holodecks. Lined with a plethora of panels, junctions, chairs, relays and plastic plates, ops had to be the largest command centre James had ever seen. A viewscreen large enough to be considered opulent and excessive on the USS Galaxy was dwarfed by the size of the ops centre. In front of the screen were consoles in crescent moon shapes, angular and sharp, unlike the design aesthetics of the Galaxy made during a more peaceful time.

He saw all this through a short shaft of light from his wrist lamps. This annoyed him to no end. "Lieutenant," He asked his Vulcan subordinate, "Are you packing one of those emergency power cells?"

T'lan replied, "Yes sir, there is one in my backpack. By my calculations, the power cell in my possession will provide ops with power for one hour, twenty two minutes, thirteen seconds."

James, astounded by the Vulcan's accuracy, said, "It will be enough to get power to ops and unlock some essential systems... maybe get some answers. Do it."

T'lan pried open a panel, revealing its spiderweb relays. She dug into her pack, setting aside tool packs and cords to pull out a square, gray and black power cell. She connected a fat, transparent cord that glowed yellow when connected to the power pack, then snapped it in place on the station's power node.

Ops flared into life, but it was nothing like James expected. For one, it was slightly bigger. Its immensity was clouded by even the darkness, limited by the shortcoming of seeing the world washed out in green or red. It became much larger, that much more real as the lights came on and consoles sparked to life.

The other was the state of decay.

Ops was in ruins, again his optics and his wrist lamp did nothing to do it justice. Every console was lit up on red alert status, that is, those that were still intact. The room had etchings of phaser fire everywhere, and even explosions from anti personnel weapons. The overhead lights flickered and some were destroyed entirely. The captain's chair, placed in Ops dead center, was shot with multple beams that criss crossed through the leather and metal.

In all the evidence of violence, there were no bodies. Audio warnings were disabled. Consoles, though lit, were locked out.

"What went on here?" James asked himself. There was a struggle, but no bodies. Ops was being secured, but the job was incomplete. The inconsistencies didn't add up.

By T'lan's emotionless expression, she agreed. "Sir, we can access the controls, but without power to the rest of the station we can only send commands that will activate once power and computer control is restored."

"We can do it from here. All we need to do is deactivate the lockouts and..." Corgan ran to the engineering console, only to find it blown out. "Christ!" He tapped his comm. badge, "Corgan to Rex. We can't access engineering from Ops. You'll have to restore power from there. I'll try to find more answers from here."

["Rex here."] came the pilot's reply. ["We're almost there -it's a long climb down to the engineering core. I'll let you know when we've got something."]

"Ok... meanwhile." James ceased communications, his attentions turned to the main operations console unit. T'lan worked feverishly, literally by the sweat of her brow, and figuratively by the pace of her fingers, to rework the console.

"I am locked out, sir." T'lan said, "We now need you to unlock the station."

"Aye." Corgan set the rifle on the ops centre chair and leaned over to the brightly lit keyboards and dead, black vision screens. "Computer, deactivate station lockdown level 2 and bring all essential systems online. Authorization Corgan Gamma Epsilon Black."

The computer chirruped in its matronly voice, =/\="Authorization confirmed. Access granted. Reserve power on."=/\=

The station grew brighter as viewing screens reactivated themselves. Some flickered from glancing wounds to their vitals, others with burnt out holes didn't bother to activate at all. But for the most part, Ops was intact enough to work. Screens flashed red from their last unknown crisis, warning of an event that for all he knew was still playing itself out. The viewscreen showed the stars, and then the USS Galaxy.

"There we go." Corgan rewarded himself with a self satisfied grin, "Computer, tell me the status of the station's reactor, and tell me what systems are online."

=/\="The reactor core is off line. Environmental controls online. Gravitational controls online. All other systems on standby."=/\=

"Good." James said to the computer, "Activate all other systems once the reactor core is online."

=/\="Affirmative. All non vital systems on standby."=/\=

T'lan emerged from the ops console, wiping the Vulcan sweat off her brow. "Sir, I think you should see this."

Complying with T'lan's request, James approached the console. He saw the layout of the space station as a 3-D interactive model, rotating in a computer generated starfield. The station's damaged areas pulsated in red blocks, but the damage itself was nominal.

In a huge amber field, labelled unknown, was a structure. Though hard to make out on the station layout, it appeared to be an asteroid with unknown metal protrusions. It was directly anchored to the station, next a station docking bay.

The intensity in T'lan's eyes grew, her green Vulcan irises virtually glowing with an emerald fire. One glance from over his shoulder, and he recoiled.

"T'lan?" James asked with concern.

She stammered, "We must... go there. I must go there."

"Sh*t. If that doesn't spell foreboding..." James slapped his badge, "Commander Corgan to Hazard Team. Meet me at docking bay seven as soon as you are all done. We have an unknown structure to explore. Over and out."

He then opened a channel to the USS Galaxy, "Commander Corgan to Galaxy. The station is operational. As soon as the rest of the team wraps up, we're heading to the unknown structure."

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

If the Ops Center of Deep Space Five was an immaculately abandoned ghost town, the station's reactor bay was the town's butcher shop.

As they crawled out of the jefferies tube that led into the large room, Corran heard one of his companions drop something as they all froze.

There were bodies everywhere, in varying conditions of damage. In more than a few places, there were only limbs. All of the bodies looked like they had been, literally, torn apart. Nearly every open surface had some form of blood (in varying colors) decorating it. The few operational panels gave some of the blood a strangely prismatic effect, where it shone through where the blood had already dried above it.

It was a level of violence that Rex could only recall once in his twenty-five hundred years.

Even as his eyes tried to take everything in, Rex shook his head at the thought. You're five hundred, Rex, not twenty-five hundred. He corrected himself, his mind glossing over the notion that he'd seen something this violent before. Finally he spoke. "Barnes, scout the area. I don't think anyone's still alive, but let's make sure."

"Roger that." the security officer piped off, and began to explore the cavernous room.

Slayton, let's get this power core online." he started to say, and then saw that the young engineer was standing as though frozen. "SLAYTON!" Corran yelled, getting the kid's attention.

Marcus was looking around the room, remembering the battle where the Hiroshima was boarded and the fighting in engineering was the most brutal, the memory was so pain full that his free hand went to his abdomen where the scar from where a Jem'Hadar bayonet went through him, skewering him...

When the SFFC major shouted at him, this caused Marcus' head to clear and then Marcus shook it to get it cleared the rest of the way before he turned to face the older trill.

"Look, kid, I know it's a pretty horrible thing. We need to get this station working, though, so we can find out what happened to these people, okay?"

"Sorry, I had a flashback to the war sir. Some it is still fresh. I'll get right on it sir." Marcus said and then he went over to the nearest engineering station and wiped the blood off of it the best that he could and started inputting commands into it. He started reading some of the information that was coming back to him.

"Major, can you take the engineering sub-systems station over there?" Marcus said as he pointed at the smaller station off to the side near the core. "I'll need you to help me get the central core systems back up and running, it requires two people working on the operation systems at the same time in order to do a controlled restart." Marcus explained, his mind now focused on the intent of getting the station's power core back up and running.

As Corran began inputting his command-level authorization codes, more and more banks of terminals came online, as he and Slayton worked together to restore the systems to a default mode.

"There doesn't appear to be much physical damage here.." the young Engineer muttered. "It's like these systems were.."

"Disabled on purpose." Rex finished, no tone of surprise in his voice. Finally, the station's main reactor lit up, and the normal systems returned to active mode from standby. "Looks like that's it." the Trill observed, and looked over to see Slayton's eyes darting across the screen in front of him.

"Life support, atmospheric integrity, force field systems are all online. Main Power and the Main Computer are up, too, though the computer's a little sluggish. We'll want to send a team to the computer core, Major." the Ensign reported.

Corran gave a nod. It wasn't surprising - especially if this had been sabotage.e He looked around the dimly lit room. Anything we can do about these lights?"

Slayton shook his head. "No. The system won't process any command to return lighting to normal levels."

If Corran Rex had been a more superstitious man, he might have thought that something wanted to keep everything all dim and creepy, to set them off guard. That was a foolish notion, of course.

'Not so foolish a notion as you might think', a voice in the back of his mind said. It was a voice that sounded somewhat like his symbiont's whenever Corran and Rex had been forced to speak directly instead of sharing thoughts, but immeasurably older.

'What do you mean?' he asked, though the strange voice did not elaborate further. Shaking his head and chalking it off to the atmosphere, Corran tapped his commbadge. "Rex to Galaxy. Captain, you're clear to dock and send the rest of the teams over. Main power and life support are online. Also recommend you send some cleanup crews, and...well, keep anyone with an unsteady stomach over there. I don't think there's anyone left alive here aside from Elessidil's Chief.."

*The world through new eyes*

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile. Recon Specialist Furies Detachment

Dr Ethan Westlake Doctor of sorts. NPC (Trey)

Sickbay, USS Galaxy

Marines are used to carry heavy burdens, physically and mentally. They are trained to do so through marching, weightlifting, heavy packbacks, basically anything that will make them stronger. Baile was no exception. Normally Baile would have been able to carry Vosak on his shoulders for miles, but normally his head didn't pound like a demolition crew and his eyes didn't feel like they were on fire. Normally his body didn't feel like it had just gone through hours of fighting without blocking a single punch. Or maybe it did, but then he wouldn't be carrying Vosek on his back.

Carrying Vosak throughout half the ship had resulted in only a few things. Baile's back felt like it wanted to snap in two and his temper was fouler than an Elephant packing a rocketlauncher. With his free hand he pushed aside two securityofficers, ignoring their calls for him as he passed them by.

Dr. Ethan Westlake was standing there with a nurse talking about giving Lt. Sanchez another dose pain medication for his headache. Ethan wasn't sure what was going on. Being a doctor of neurology and internal medicine, there wasn't much he could do for them other then treat the symptoms while science officers try and figure out the source of the problems. Looking up Dr. Westlake noticed some marines coming into Sickbay. One of which was being carried by a one who looked to be in pain. Only a doctor could see that kind of pain worn on the marine's face. "Nurse... take care of him." He said about Vorsak.

Ethan moved over toward Baile. "Dr. Westlake... what happened?" He asked, trying to look at the man with the mohawk style hair cut.

"He had tequila with Mr Sandman... how the hell should I know." Baile grumbled irritated. "Can I put this pile of sheit somewhere?"

"Put him here..." Ethan said, helping Baile get the other man off his shoulder. "I want you on that bed.." The British medical officer said as he looked toward Baile. "Sovon..." Ethan called out to the Vulcan doctor, "start with this one. I'll check on him." Ethan said gesturing toward Baile. Moving over toward the other marine, he looked at his eyes. "What the...-" He cut off pulling his tricorder. "What happened to your eyes, son?" The older man asked.

"Fuck!" Baile cursed out loud when the doctor removed his sunglasses. The pain bore down like plasmacutters. He closed his eyes as hard as he could and covered them with a hand. "No idea doc.. " he said with more irritation than pain in his voice. He was getting really tired of it all. "It just hurts like fuck."

Dr. Westlake furrowed his browl. He wasn't able to identify or triangulate what happened to Baile's eyes. "I'll give you something for pain in just a moment. You eyes are familiar with eyes I've seen on predators. Almost like cat like eyes only more fine tuned. I can't identify them, or even suggest what happened to your normal eyes." he said noting the surgery wounds. "Son, have you been operated on recently?" He asked.

"Surgery? Cats? What the hell are you talking about?" Baile replied, sounding more and more irritated by the moment.

"Looks like you've had some kind of eye replacement." Westlake said. Then looked at Baile. "You don't remember any of that?" He asked.

"I think I would have remembered if someone poked my eyes out.. " Baile commented sarcastically. His eyes replaced? What the hell for?!

Looking over Sovon shook his head no. Westlake shrugged. "I don't know. I'm working on trying to figure it out." He said sliding the sunglasses back on. He then reached for a hypo to give him something for the pain. "This will help with the pain and in flamed feeling. I need to get a better scan of your eyes."

"Look doc.. you flash any light in my eyes and I'll shove that tricorder up your ass. Understood?"

"What no dinner first?" Westlake asked, sarcastically. "No flashes of anything, son. I just need to scan you eyes." he said, holding up his tricorder and scanning them through the protective lenses.  "Whoever did this really was crude... I'm going to have to give you something for infection."

"What ever floats your boat, old man.." Baile replied, but inside he was starting to get worried. He couldn't even think of a reason for someone or something to replace his eyes with whatever they had put there instead. "Look doc.. I don't care how you do it.. get me eyes that works. Not these pieces of shit."

"Son, we can't just replicate new eyes like your old ones." He said. "I can't even offer implants until I know more about what happened to yours and how he has used these eyes." He said, then paused. "For the time being I'm going to have to pull you off active rotation."

Baile grabbed the doctor's arm, not realising just how hard or where he grabbed it. "The hell you will doc.. I'm the best damn recon onboard this ship.. hell, I'm the best within a hundred bloody lightyears and I got a job to do. And as far as getting me new eyes - just bloody do it.. I don't care you don't know what happened to my original ones. Just get these out!" The marine spoke the last words with a low and dark voice.

"I can't until I know more... and I'm sorry. My orders stand." He said. "Hurting my arm isn't going to get your eyes back, son."

He looked at the arm he was holding as if he didn't really understand what it was and then he let go. "Look doc. I didn't come here to get fucked around.. I'm no Fleeter pansy. I've been running around in jungles with half a pound of shrapnel inside of me. I feel fine doc.. " It was strange to say that but it was the truth. The eyes did hurt and his head throbbed like never before, but deep down he knew that his body was still as strong as it ever had been.

"I'm sorry, but my orders stand." Westlake said, "least until you can be seen by the Chief Medical. She can recede anything." Westlake said then. "Now let go of my arm."

Baile did as Westlake wanted and let go of the arm. Basic tactic. When an enemy is entrenched - flank them. Silently Baile nodded. "Alright doc. Do your magic then."

"I'm going to give you something for the pain.. once I look over the scans of your eyes. Then I'll know more about how to go about fixing all this." He said, then rested a hand on Baile's shoulder. "Don't worry, son, we'll get through this."

"I've been through worse doc.. trust me." Baile replied, but held up his hand when Westlake held up the hypo. "Got a thing for painkillers.. I don't take them." Dr. Westlake looked at him and shook his head. "No, this is a antibitic. I'm concerned by the inflammation in your eyes.. this will help with that." Ethan replied, pressing the hypo against Baile's neck and pressing the trigger.

Again Baile's world transformed into an existance of pure pain. Without thinking he grabbed Westlake's arm and twisted it until the hypo dropped out of the hand. Just as quickly he grabbed the doctor by the collar, spun him around and locked his arms around the neck. "Are you trying to bloody kill me?" he growled, biting down on the newly erupted pain. The thunder in his ears started again, as if things weren't chaotic enough.

Ethan couldn't say anything, could barely breath as he tried to get Baile to let go off him. All he was doing was giving him something to fight infection. Struggling to get the man to release him, he then pulled a hypo from his jackpocket with his free hand and pressed it into Baile's side, injecting him with a sedative.

Baile felt the sting from the hypo, and it was only through a monumental effort of self-control Westlake's neck stayed in one piece. He pushed the doctor away from him. People around them had certainly taken a note of the commotion. Normally men went down like clubbed baby seals, but Baile stayed on his feet long enough to pull his sidearm from the holster. He couldn't see a thing, or hear anything due to the metal band in his head running the drum solo, but the gun pointed squarely at Westlake's chest none the less.

A second later Baile's legs gave in, but the mind refused to go down. He slumped to the floor, the gun falling out of his hand. It was like watching an oxe getting sedated.

Westlake stood there for a moment, taking in air. When Baile went down he moved move and kicked the gun away from Baile and knelt down. "Help me get him up on the bio bed." He said to some male nurses. Once they got Baile up, Westlake set up a stasis field to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else.

The sedative didn't last as long as the doctor had expected, but for some reason it never did on Baile. The marine doctor that had checked him when he joined the marines had called it Marine's resistance. Baile didn't really give a shit what it was. Waking up and not being able to move didn't exactly improve Baile's already foul temper. But at least the lights were dimmed, but the neck and head still burned like he had swallowed a just taken a shower in gasoline and lit a match.

"Calm down, Lieutenant." Westlake said. "Don't fight the field.. I assure you won't be able to move." He said, running a medical tricorder over Baile. "What I gave you was just a antibiotic."

Forcing himself to relax was far from easy, especially when every fibre in his body wanted to put a bullet in Westlake's head. Baile felt confused. He felt far more aggressive than he had ever felt. "Well.. it hurt like the fuck, doc.. like I said.. skip the meds."

"Okay.. ok.. no more medication.. I'm taking a sample of your blood." He said, pulling a hypo and taking a sample of Baile's blood.

"This is a joke, doc.. turn off this damn field."

"Well you promise to remain here until I say you can leave?" Westlake asked.

"Yeah yeah.. " Baile responed with a slight irritation to his voice.

"I didn't hear you say it.." Ethan said, not moving to deactivate the field.

"What the hell is this? Boyscouts are us?" Baile grumbled. "Alright doc.. if it keeps you from crapping yourself, then yes.. I promise to stay until you say otherwise."

Releasing the field he then looked at the tricorder. "I want you to rest here, until Dr. Rabb can look you over." He said, not sure what else he could do for the marine.

Baile sighed. "Look doc.. I feel fine and you need the bunk for others than me." he said, motioning to the rather crowded sickbay. "I don't need to rest. I need to do something." Although his body was bruised, it still felt ready to jump into action on a second's notice.

"You are not fine, look at yourself. You don't have normal eyes anymore and for some reason even local antibiotics set you on fire." He said then handed a chart to a nurse. "Get this to Dr. Rabb as soon as possible."

Baile shrugged, keeping the unfamiliar anger in check. "I've always reacted badly to meds."

"Doesn't say that in your file." Westlake pointed out.

"There's a lot of things my file doesn't say."

"Look, your going to have to see Dr. Rabb. That is all there is to it." Dr. Westlake said as he looked at him. "Now get comfortable and wait, she'll be with you shortly."

"Whatever doc.." the marine shrugged.

"Marines.." Westlake mumbled moving off to see about another patient.

This was bloody unbelievable. He came down to drop off a sick man and ended up detained himself. Baile had never liked doctors, but this certainly took the winning prize. Whoever doctor Rabb was, he or she had better get there soon.

(OOC Note: Those who were in the sickbay JP with me should give this a gander. Your treatment is here)

"A Difficult Puzzle"

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer

w/ Assorted Medical Type people

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

Artim looked over the sleeping forms of the two Vulcans and the Caitian on the bio beds while his four century old brain puzzled over the scan results. As he expected there was a neurotransmitter imbalance as well as increased levels of adreniline and testosterone, especially in Le'on. That wasn't a shock, it happened from time to time. What he couldn't figure out is why the imbalance was happening.

The two Vulcans endocrine system was acting like it was in pon farr, but the other biological signs weren't there. Thyroid function seemed normal in all three of them, but it seemed like the organ was simply being tricked into thinking there was nothing wrong. Same with the systems that were suppoed to regulate their neurotransmitters. It just didn't make sense!

"Doctor, the neurological scans you requested are completed and on your terminal, but I don't think they'll tell you much.", the senior nurse said in a matter of factly tone.

"Let me guess, all precisely at baseline." Artim said looking down at his console, tapping a few keys to confirm his suspicions.

"Yes doctor. If I'm not mistaken we've run just about every scan in the book.", the nurse replied.

"Indeed, now I need to think. Could you do me a huge favor and get me some milk and cookies. I need to focus." Artim replied with a childish grin.

The nurse simply shook her head and walked over to the replicator returning with a plate of choclate chunk cookies and a tall glass of cold milk, earning her a smile from the doctor. Muching on a cookie, the crumbs falling all over the console he stared at the scans. They hadn't made sense for awhile now, things that shouldn't be happening were happening right before his eyes. All the medical knowledge and expereience that Artim had and he couldn't come up with a cause for the things he was seeing. It should be right in front of him but it wasn't! Without thinking, Artim's fist came down hard on the console, spilling some of the milk all over his jacket. Grumbling to himself, Artim walked over to the replicator to replicate a cleaning tool. As he was going through the files, he noticed something he'd totally forgotten about...and it was just what he needed!

"Eureka!" Artim shouted to noone in particular. The nurses all looked at him with narrowing eyes. A decade ago, a doctor on the Al-Batani had employed an external device that could regulate hormones and neurotransmitters from outside the body when the internal systems weren't working properly. The device was built into a collar that could be worn by the paitent with only occacsional adjustment by a doctor every six hours. It wouldn't solve the problem he had here, but it could treat the symptoms of it, which was as good as anything at the moment. He'd have to adjust each collar to the biology of each paitent, but that wouldn't take long. For the first time in awhile Artim cracked a huge smile as he replicated three of the devices. The allmighty Miran intellect had struck again!

"Entanglements" (Part I)

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

Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx,
Starfleet Strategic Operations Liaison [APC: M. Miller]

****

Executive Officer's Quarters, Deck 5, USS Galaxy

He'd worried that the morning would never come. First there had been the worried call from Holly Hostetler Richman. Then Ambassador Omar had turned up dead. The resulting investigation had consumed most of his sleeping time, and had required him to deal with Kreighoff (who had been eerily normal), Yhwalyan (who was a man-hating telepath with no respect for mental boundaries), and a whole slew of other officers volunteering to help with the investigation.

Not his kind of morning. He'd followed up by a long conversation with Admiral Akaar and Admiral Abrik, which had really boiled down to them telling him to keep it quiet and keep Command and the President's Office informed. Abrik had told him that the Rihannsu Ambassador to Earth, a man named Kalavak, would be informed. He was grateful to not be the one having that conversation.

And that had been his final thought as he'd fallen into bed for a two hour nap before he would be required to be awake, if not on duty. Being able to respond during Alpha and Beta (which he lead) was a requirement for any XO.

As he stared at the ceiling in his quarters, he knew he should get up. Something was going to happen, and he'd be needed. If he was lying in bed, it would take that much longer to respond. He rolled over and glared at the wall chrono. 0913. Alpha Shift had begun. He was more or less free until 1500.

"Computer, where is Ekoma Janx?"

[Ekoma Janx is in Gymnasium B, Deck Seven,] the computer duly informed.

~Ugh... don't feel like exercising,~ he thought to himself as he rolled out of bed.

Zombie-like, he shuffled over to the wall closet to pick out some civvies to wear. After the night he'd had, it was definitely an out-of-uniform day. He selected a pair of jeans, a gray tee shirt, and a well worn zippered blue sweatshirt.

~It'll have to do if I want to see her.~

****

Deck 7: Gymnasium B

~One... and Two... and Three... and Four...~

Ekoma counted to herself as she moved with each repetition of the trans-grav weight machine.

Right now, it was all that she could do to keep *other* certain thoughts from invading her mind. Thoughts of where she was going in her career, her relationship with her own XO (and the wisdom of that, in itself), and the strange entanglement that seemed to exist between her, him, and one certain blue-skinned Andorian woman.

No, all she wanted to do was sit here, and pump away at the machine, until it hurt so much that she couldn't go any further. Then, she'd go back to her quarters and collapse, hopefully falling into a deep sleep, not having to think at all about Cassius Henderson. At least... not right now.

Clearly, the universe had not taken into account what Ekoma Janx wanted.

Or maybe it had, but was circumventing her conscious mind to get there.

In any case, Cass Henderson arrived in the gym about halfway through her workout. He wasn't dressed for a workout. He didn't walk over to one of the machines. He clearly wasn't there for the purpose that the room was intended for. Instead, he calmly walked over to where Ekoma was working out, as if there was nothing wrong between them.

As he walked over to the trans-grav weight machine, Cass took a moment to surreptitiously appreciate the way her slim body moved, the tight workout clothes accenting every muscle and line, every curve. His time on Mirusa VI had taught him a lot about the nature of his relationship with Tish a'Akledorian, but now he just hoped that he and Ekoma could find some peace... provided dead senators and abandoned starbases would let them.

~Dammit,~ she swore to herself once she saw Cassius approaching her. Didn't he *know* that she wasn't ready to talk to him yet? That it was *her* place to come to *him*, when she was over being mad at him?

~Men...~ she grumped to herself while keeping her gaze perfectly straight on the blank wall across the gym.

"Hey, beautiful," Cass greeted her, playing dumb to her obvious irritation at seeing him. He needed her to come out and say what she was feeling, but knew that if left to her own devices, she was likely to take the easy path and never mention it again. And thus their relationship, so recently begun, would end. And he couldn't allow that.

~Dammit!~ she swore to herself again. He knew she was susceptible to his charm, and was working it over on her. She *wanted* to stay mad. Dammit, she *would* stay mad! She kept pumping at the machine, speeding up her pace and giving Cassius the Silent Treatment.

"I thought you should know that last night you handled the news about Omar very well," he said, complimenting her professionally as he arrived at her machine. He pretended not to notice that she'd just brutally cold-shouldered him, and leaned against one of the machine's posts. She'd have to give in eventually. He'd irritate her with his ignorance, to the point where she'd have to just come out and say whatever it was that was bothering her.

She blew at a strand of her blonde hair as it flopped in front of her eyes. She knew what he was doing... knew *exactly* what he was doing. But she couldn't back down, not now. Not until *he* said he was sorry. ~Beside,~ she reasoned to herself, ~*I* didn't do anything wrong, *he* did.~

Instead she focused on finishing her reps, pausing momentarily to dial the trans-gravs up another 10 kilos. Of course, she over-dialed a bit too far, and found herself quickly struggling to finish the full repetition against the heavy grav feedback. Grimacing, she didn't back off though, bound and determined not to show any weakness to Cassius, lest he succeed in totally charming away her last defenses.

"Don't you think that's a bit much, Ekoma?" Cass asked, deciding that he had to break first because he didn't want her to injure herself in their immature contest of wills. Her willfulness was attractive - sexy in a way - but he couldn't stand to see her do what she was doing. "Whatever I did, it can't possibly be worth hurting yourself."

Of course, the logic was sound; even a Vulcan couldn't argue *that* point. But she wasn't Vulcan, and definitely wasn't feeling very logical, right now. She finished the set, pushing the platens all the way back to the locked position, and releasing herself from within the machine.

Sitting up on the workbench, she just stared at him, her beautiful jade eyes now glowering through him like a caustic acid with The Look.

"That's real mature, Eko," Cass shook his head, annoyed. Perhaps she needed to be dragged back to the temple of the Nerru'vir'im on Mirusa VI. The Guardians of Progress would have a field day. "I get that you're mad, sweetheart, but if you don't tell me why, I'll never be able to rectify it, apologize for it, or make it up to you. Honestly, we're both adults, I think. Not to mention Starfleet Officers."

She sighed heavily while towling the sweat from her skin. She knew he was right, she knew that her reasons for being mad at him weren't that well founded, really. But dammit all, they were *her* reasons. They could be as damned-founded as she wanted them to be!

She sighed heavily while towling the sweat from her skin. She knew he was right, she knew that her reasons for being mad at him weren't that well founded, really. But dammit all, they were *her* reasons. They could be as damned-founded as she wanted them to be!

"Cassius," she spoke between clenched teeth. She *wanted* to stay angry at him. But now that he was here, she was quickly losing her offensive ground. "I'm not mad at you." She knew it sounded absurd, probably, but it made sense to her. Really, she wasn't *mad*, per se. More like very disappointed.

"Then why the silence?" he asked. Careful to avoid violating her personal space, he sat down next to her on the bench. "If you're not mad at me, then why have you been avoiding me ever since I got back from Mirusa? Honestly, I've been trying to get together with you, but either one of us is on duty or you're hiding away somewhere."

She looked over at him, scrunched her nose, and couldn't help but sigh. "You just came back, like *nothing* had happened between you and the Lieutenant, Cass. And when I went down to Sickbay to see if *you* were all right--because I had no idea if you'd been hurt, or seriously injured, or whatever--there you were, by *her* bedside." She stopped, trying not to let her emotion get the better of her, before continuing: "Did you ever think that just *maybe* you might call me on the bridge and say, 'I'm okay, Eko'?"

"Yeah, I did. But before I could, we were all quarantined by Medical, and by the time I got out, a dozen other people were demanding my attention," he sighed.

So that was it.

"After that, I decided that I would just go see you. But at that point you were already hiding."

"For that matter, you were pretty quick to jump to a conclusion," he continued, slightly hurt by her implication. "Did it occur to you that nothing happened to T'Shani and me. Nothing that changes the way I think about you, in any case. And in all fairness, you *did* tell me to take care of her."

She stood quickly, and walked over to the towel exchange, pulling a clean on from the rack, then throwing the sweaty one into the recycler. For a few seconds, she stared at the monogrammed Starfleet insignia on the towel, and the Galaxy namesake and registry ringing it.

"I know, I know, Cass. I guess I just... " she stopped short, sighing heavily, trying to will herself to say what, deep-down, she thought was an insecure, school-girlish thing to say.

"What? Are you jealous?" he prompted, standing up to follow her. He joined her at the towel rack and kept his voice low. There was no need for anyone else to hear the conversation, especially since their relationship was now against regulations, as of his promotion to Sector Strategic Operations Officer. "You shouldn't be. You're the only one that I think of romantically."

"Really?" she asked, a glare of sarcasm tinting her one-word reply. "Cass, I *see* how you are with her. And don't get me wrong, I *do* believe that you want to be with me... But it seems that you want to be with her... too." She looked down into the still-folded towel held in her hands, feeling awfully dumb for saying what she had just said.

He thought about that for a moment. There might just be more truth to what she was saying than he'd originally assumed. Their experience on Mirusa certainly pointed toward it. He sighed again. "Look, Eko... I don't entirely understand how I want my relationship with her to go. The *testing* that we underwent in the temples on Mirusa VI made it more clear, but not enough to say one way or the other. On the other hand, I *do* know how what I want *our* relationship to be like."

'So, why don't you just *tell* me what happened, Cass?' she wanted to ask him, but didn't feel as though she were quite ready for that answer, herself.

Instead, she unfolded the towel, and ruffled her still-damp hair with it, before turning back to him. "Look, Cass. This whole thing is getting... entangled. You, me, her... not to mention that our relationship is strictly taboo, right now. I've got alot to think about, okay?" She knew she must be breaking his heart, and wanted to make it up to him, somehow.

"Hey, why don't we just talk, okay? Maybe over dinner? I know one of the observation lounges, down on 35, that no one ever goes to. Maybe, some neutral ground?" she asked, trying not to push him in a direction that maybe he wasn't comfortable with. Or was it *she* who was uncomfortable with all this? This was too damned confusing.

"If that's what you want, Eko," he said, allowing that disappointment and apprehension the welled up inside of him at her words to color his voice. "But if it's going to be a breakup dinner, I'm not interested. I've been pretty much alone for seven years. Letting me down gently would just be insulting."

She reached out, and touched his face, gently, realizing that how her words must have sounded to him. "Cass, I'm not letting you go, that easy. Just... we do need to talk, okay?"

"Yeah, we definitely do," he nodded. There was something inherently soothing about having your face touched by a beautiful woman. "I'm game."

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