"The Trusted Right Hand"

Major Corran Rex, C.A.G.
Flight Officer Teyri Jen, Vanguard Two

*****

Corran's office was a mess.

Granted, the last time he'd been in here, he'd gotten into a fight with one of his pilots, Flight Officer Teyri Jen. And she had, thankfully, locked him into a closet.

He heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and turned to see the aforementioned Bajoran. "Flight Officer." he said by way of greeting.

"You wanted to see me?" Jen asked cautiously. The last time they had interacted, it had been... interesting. It was definitely the first time she'd ever had to lock her superior into a closet.

Hopefully, it was the last as well.

"Yeah, come in." he said, frowning. "I forgot how much of a mess it was in here."

"Yeah, well, housekeeping can slide when you get taken over by an evil entity. Call it a trade off." She stood behind the chair in front of the desk, watching the Trill major putter around, trying to straighten up his office. It was a lost cause, even Jen could tell that, but still, he got points for trying. She shifted her weight on her feet, getting ready to move to the door in case he showed any indication of going crazy and attacking her again. Yeah, everyone was 'supposedly' back to normal, but still... Rather be safe then sorry. That was her mantra these days.

Corran felt a momentary sense of disquiet as he saw the skittishness that Jen was trying to hide. Still - it was to be expected. The only real atonement he could make was to be to resume behaving like normal. Even if he himself felt anything but.

Giving up on trying to straighten up his office, he satisfyingly flopped down into the non regulation (and supremely comfortable) chair he'd had installed behind his desk. Propping his feet up and locking his hands behind his head, he motioned to the mostly-cleared empty chair across from him. "Have a seat, Flight Officer."

"I'm good. Thanks though."

"I'm pretty sure the chair doesn't bite." he half-heartedly joked. "Sit down."

"Yeah, it doesn't look like it. But there was that article in the Galaxy Gazette, you know, about the chair that bit someone's ass off. Ever since then, they looked kinda shady to me, don't ya know," she said back to him, relaxing just enough to sit down. Not much, she was still ready to run, but enough. "So, what's up? What'd I do this time? You know, if this is about that sim run I had the other day, I swear to the prophets, I was off my game. I hadn't had much sleep. I was... hungry. I was.... Crap, I sucked. I know it. No excuse."

No, no," the Trill chuckled. "It's not about that at all - though that was definitely the worst flying I've seen you do yet. Still, with everything lately - it's not surprising some of us are off our game."

"Oh. Well... good then. But, if that wasn't what you wanted, then why am I here?"

"Well," he started, picking up some peanuts off the bowl on his desk and popping a few into his mouth. He had to fight down a momentary revulsion and a mental sigh. Gavin hadn't liked peanuts, not one bit. Corran was going to have get past that instinct from one of his new former hosts because frankly, he loved the things. With effort, he swallowed them, and then ordered some water from the replicator on his desk as he turned his attention back to the Bajoran pilot in front of him. "This is about me offering you a job."

"A job?"

"A better job."

"Your job?"

"Ah, no." he shook his head.

"Okay, so what job is there?" she asked him.

"Look, I'll get down to it." he said, and pointed his index finger right at Teyri. "You're one of the best pilots in this squadron, even though you're new. And, you've got a good, level head. You're a natural flyer, and you've got a tendency to be bossy. That translates pretty well into command potential, especially around people like us."

"Bossy?" Jen asked mildly.

"So: job offer. I want you to be my XO, my Number One, my trusted right hand."

"Huh?" was her genius response. An XO spot? Her? "Um... sorry. I never... really thought about it. XO. Wow."

"I'd start thinking, if I were you." Corran replied, giving her a toothy smile. "Did I mention the Lieutenant's bars that come with this gig?"

"Hmmm. Nifty. Lieutenant Teyri Jen. I hafta admit, I do like the sound of that. Before I go polishing my non-existent bars, though, tell me what I'd have to do with this new position. If performing sexual favors becomes a requirement, well then, Rex, I like you and all, but I'd have to turn it down." She gave him a saucy grin, and her eyelid quickly dropped in what might have been, but wasn't quite, a conspiratorial wink.

"Hey," he said, putting on a facade of mock-indignation. "I'd never make that a *requirement*."

"A suggestion, maybe?"

"I'll neither confirm not deny those allegations." the Trill replied with a familiar twinkle. "This is a serious offer, Teyri. You'd be my liaison to the squadron. I'm not "one of the guys" anymore. Even as XO, you still will be. But you also have to help me maintain discipline, create and evaluate training scenarios, and then there's the paperwork."

Jen sobered up. "As a serious job offer, then I'd have to admit that I only have one stumbling block to me accepting the offer. It wasn't too long ago that you attacked me, and I locked you in a closet. I realize that there were extenuating circumstances in that whole thing, but... If you were me, wouldn't you pause for a moment?"

The Major inclined his head slightly. "Honestly? I'd probably have put in for transfer the second things got back to normal."

Jen smiled briefly. "Seriously, though. What would you do if you were me?"

"Jen," he said, using her given name for possibly the first time ever. "I understand your concern. And if leaving is what you want - I won't block your transfer. But this is Starfleet. More than that, Vanguard Squadron is posted to the Galaxy. Do you know how many pilots would kill to be in your shoes? For almost twenty years, this ship has been one of the foremost vessels of the 'Fleet. Under Captain Shoak, Captain Price - even Captain Bhrode, and now Captain M'Kantu... this is one of the places where the action is.

"You're going to see and do things here that most Starfleet officers never even dream of. That's how people become legends. You really want to pass that up?"

Jen looked at him for a moment, trying to get past the memory of the face contorted in determination as he came after her, intent on doing who knows what sort of dastardly deed. Even after she had, through a whole lot of good luck, managed to get him into the closet, it still wasn't something she was going to forget. She had woken up several times since the whole fiasco, his face running after her in her dreams. It wasn't something that you necessarily just got over, and then to agree to work closely with him? To see him day after day after day, remembering that one moment?

Well, that would do one of two things. It would either allow her to move past it, and be able to see Rex as a close and trusted friend as well as supervisor, or it would drive her into leaving the Galaxy, unable to deal with the repercussions of the encounter, brief as it was.

"Well, here's hoping it's the latter," she mumbled to herself, unaware that she was speaking out loud. "You're right, Rex," she said louder. "I'd be a fool to turn this down, especially so soon. I mean, how often does this kind of job just get handed to you?"

The Major smiled, and took pushed forward a small, unassuming jewelry box across his cluttered desk. "Then I think this is yours, Lieutenant."

Jen made no move to take it. "Before I accept that, Rex, I do think that there are some things that I need to get out into the open, and hopefully it won't make you change your mind. I understand that you were being... possessed by something, that you weren't in control of your actions. But it was still your face that I saw." Your face that I still see. "If I... can't do this, for some reason, I want the opportunity to transfer, no hard feelings, no questions asked. Letters of recommendation would be wonderful."

He opened his mouth to speak, and she jumped in again before he could respond. "I'm going to do my damndest to make sure that I am the best XO I can be, the best that you've had. I'm not going to wuss out just because things got weird. Knowing the reputation of this ship, things have been weird before, and they probably will get weird again. I just... want the out."

"If you want the out, it's there." he replied after a moment's consideration. "I want you to know - I get it. I'm just hoping you'll be able to overlook it. That, and I don't believe in running."

"Okay, well, for better or worse, you got yourself an XO, boss." Now she moved to pick up the box holding the new lieutenant bars. A small smile appeared on her face as she tilted the box, allowing the light to reflect of the metal. "I think they'll look damn good on me."

"What wouldn't?" he asked with a rakish grin.

"Secrets to Keep"

Principal Characters
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
CO Major Corran Rex, CAG

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 2
Outside the Captain's Quarters

As a Trill, Corran Rex was used to secrets.

It was paradoxical, almost. For a species that so highly prized the living memory represented by the symbionts, they were almost fanatical when it came to the topic of things that they'd rather forget about.

Only a few years back it had become public knowledge that the general population of Trill was, at large, capable of joining. That scandal had nearly toppled the Trill government almost as effectively as the crash of a Federation starship into their capitol nearly had.

What hadn't become knowledge was that the parasite creatures responsible for attempting to take over Starfleet almost twenty years ago, and then the death of First Minister Shakaar Edon and so many other Bajorans a mere six years ago, were a genetically engineered offshoot of the Trill symbionts, engineered by the Trill themselves on their colony world of Kurl, several thousand years in the past.

Hell, most people didn't even know that the the Trill had had an age of interstellar expansion that had occurred well before Jalen Rex had "discovered" warp drive slightly more than four centuries ago.

And they damn sure didn't know of the combination of the threats from the parasites and the Dithparu that had ended that expansion period and sent the Trill into several centuries of isolation.

And no one new that what had been diagnosed as "T'Rex's Syndrome", an affliction compared to Terran Alzheimer's where the symbiont began to loose track of who it's current host was, resulting in rapid personality shifts.... wasn't any kind of disease at all.

Corran knew, now, that he wasn't sick. The symptoms that had manifested themselves had been the decaying of the centuries-old memory block, gone now that he had removed that wall from his own mind. And no one knew that thousands of other joined Trills had similarly had their memories blocked.

And they all had their own secrets.

Corran needed help. He needed advice, from someone who understood the big picture. And therefore, even though Captain M'Kantu was off-duty, he found himself standing in front of the quarters belonging to the master of the Starship Galaxy.

With a buzz, the door opened, obviously set on automatic.

M'Kantu's quarters were warm, slightly warmer than the rest of the ship, and the air was very dry. Holo-images of terrain that Corran took to be from the Captain's home in Africa on Terra occupied the walls, appearing like windows to another world. The standard Starfleet-issue furniture had been replaced with heavy items made from wood and covered in colorful, patterned fabrics. A series of carvings - small statuettes and masks mostly - stood on stands around the room atop dressers and on shelves. In the background, soft music with a rhythmic beat overlaid with a subdued chant played.

"One moment," M'Kantu's voice sounded from the next room. He emerged a few seconds later, ever-present mug in one hand, and a padd in the other. "Now," he continued, setting the padd down, "what is that you needed to speak to me about, Major?"

Corran had nothing but respect for the Galaxy's Captain. He was an honorable man, a good man. And he was most likely the type that couldn't abide secrets. Increasingly - especially as he continued to integrate his new-old hosts into his sense of "self", Corran found that he didn't really disagree with the notion.

"I need some advice, sir." he said, trying to figure out where to start. There was so much now, that he remembered, so much to go through.

He didn't know where to start.

M'Kantu nodded and waved a hand to one of the chairs. "Please, have a set." Senior officer didn't come to him after hours for advice on dating protocol, and he didn't need to be a counselor to see that whatever it was that Corran needed to speak about, it was something that he was still working through. "Can I offer you something? Coffee?

Tea? I'm afraid that I don't have anything stronger than that."

The Trill nodded, taking the offered seat, and finding the Captain's plush furniture to be more than comfortable. "Tea, sir."

A minute or so later, a hot mug of tea in hand for Corran and a refilled coffee mug for himself, M'Kantu sat down and offered the tea.

"Gathered things together yet?" he asked quietly.

"In my after-action report on the Dithparu Incident," the Major finally began, "And the report that's been appended to my medical file, I noted that I have been effectively cured of T'Rex's syndrome. I assume you've read it?"

Daren had read everyone's reports, not just because it was his job, but because they were his crew, and he needed to know what had happened to them, in their own words. Corran's had been one of the more interesting ones for a number of reasons. "I have."

"Then you know that I listed the cause of the syndrome to be a previously unknown form of a memory block, that was placed in Rex's mind for "undisclosed trauma."

M'Kantu nodded. "Does this relate to what was behind the block?"

"What I've found out, Captain, is that I'm almost two thousand years old. And in those times, Rex has almost always been an important figure in Trill society. There's a lot of secrets that were buried in Rex's mind. Secrets I now have access to. Some of them are secrets for good reasons. Some.. aren't."

Secrets. There were always secrets, and those that felt that they had to be kept in order to protect those they supposedly served.

Sometimes, even Daren admitted that they were right, but often it was fear that compelled them to keep secrets, not necessity. "And those... secrets... are what's troubling you." it was an observation and not a question.

"A lot of it, yeah." the pilot replied.

"Are you comfortable telling me which secrets are causing you this distress now?"

Corran squirmed uncomfortably in his seat for a moment. "That's the thing, sir. There's so much, it's hard to put into any kind of coherent pattern. And I haven't sorted through the context yet. I get these flashes sometimes, some of the things I remember. They seem so horrible, and yet..."

"They're not easily separated from the other suppressed memories, emotions, and feelings?"

"Exactly. I can't be certain about any of it."

"That does pose something of a problem, yes," Daren nodded, thinking the issue over.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I don't mean to bother you with my... personal problems. You're in here, relaxing and reading, and I come in and just start spouting off crazy."

The Captain shook his head. "No bother, Major. I'm just trying to think of a way to help you get this sorted out. You say that the memories and information is all jumbled up?"

The CAG gave a brief nod.

"All right then, your first order of business needs to be to get it in order. We can't do anything with the information until we have all of it, in a coherent, ordered fashion to look at." He sipped at his coffee. "Have you considered requesting the help of someone skilled in things like this? There are Vulcan psychologists – whose oaths of conduct would be essentially inviolable – who specialize in this sort of recovered memory assimilation, for instance…."

"Hadn't thought of a Vulcan," Corran confessed. "Of course, their psychologists don't usually like Trills too much. Our minds are too… unstructured for their tastes." A strange smile crossed Corran's face as a memory floated to consciousness. "Of course, I knew this one Vulcan..." he trailed, and then actually started to redden in the face. "Yeah, never mind. You definitely don't want to hear about that."

M'Kantu quirked an eyebrow at Corran.

"Well, one of my hosts was a... ah... guru of sorts." Corran replied.

"A guru? A spiritual leader?" Daren asked.

"He wrote a text that's still pretty popular today. The human equivalent is called the... Kama Sutra, I think."

Daren coughed. "Ah, I see."

"Yeah, there was this Vulcan woman who decided she wanted to experiment with an alien species during pon farr, and let me tell you - " he stopped at the expression on the Captain's face.

"Please," Daren said with a raised hand, as if to deflect the very idea, "don't."

"Sorry." Corran winced. "That's one of the things I'm talking about. I think all the voices in my head are drowning out my internal censor, Captain."

"All the more reason to see someone that can help you, before… something slips out," Daren observed. "Especially if, as you seem to think, there is information in your head that might be dangerous or damaging to simply reveal."

"I do."

The captain leaned back in his seat. "While we're on that topic… have you identified any such information?" He held up a hand again. "You don't have to tell it to me if you would rather not, I simply ask if there *is* such information."

"I have." he confirmed. "And no - I don't really want to share it right now. Not until I've gotten a better handle on it. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, Captain."

"I couldn't agree more." M'Kantu replied.

"Take Two Muffins and Call Me In the Morning"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies Psychologist

Bran smiled at Brian. It was the end of the shift for both of them and they ran in to each other in the waiting area. Over the last couple of months they had come to know each other better. Talked a couple of times as well. The last mission had been a difficult experience for both of them. And they had helped each other heal.

"Hi, Brian," she said. "How are things?"

Brian found himself smiling in return. It felt good to smile again, to feel something other than deep, soul-wrenching remorse and revulsion. Sometimes they were still there, but at least in the last few weeks they weren't the sole occupants of his mind. Those feelings weren't in control anymore, and he was glad for it.

"Things . . . go pretty well . . . pretty well, thanks," he replied, nodding slowly. "Muffin?" he offered, extending a plate on which rested four orange muffins and some crumbs filling in for the long-gone others. "Made them myself this morning, thought I'd see what I could do to help get everyone's day off to a good start. They're still pretty good," he added, tempting Bran with their pleasant orange scent.

She sniffed. "Delicious, yes please,"she said, smiling. "I think we have finally seen the worst, my caseload is going down." Branwen looked tired. After her boss had been temporarily relieved from duty, she had been running the Furies as well the last couple of months.

"Yeah, same here -- and none too soon," Brian added, setting the remaining three muffins down on a side table in the waiting area so everyone would have access to them. "I don't know if having to counsel the entire crew is something I want to go through again any time soon. You know," he said, thinking out loud for a moment, "I think it says something that you, Karyn, all of us, were able to rise to the occasion, especially given the circumstances. Engineering and Medical and everyone else have their crises to address, I guess this one was ours. I just wish it didn't have to be stretched out over three months," he chuckled.

"Yes, because it cost us most of our shore leave." In fact, she hadn't taken any at all, not with running two full-time jobs. "I think it has done some good. My marines come to me easier now. They are beginning to open up."

"That's a pretty significant accomplishment, Bran. Marines usually aren't known for opening up and sharing their feelings. It means they trust you . . . heh, that or they're an exceptionally sensitive group of marines."

"We do group hugs and yoga as well these days," she said with a straight face but then started to giggle. "So how about you? How have you been doing yourself, Brian?"

He grew silent for a moment, taking the opportunity to sit down on one of the chairs lining the perimeter of the waiting area. "There are still flashes of memories," he revealed, his tone not overly sad or happy, just calm. "Sights, sounds, scenes that have stayed with me the past few months. Heh . . . maybe they'll stay with me for the rest of my life. I don't know. But I'm functioning again, doing my job, enjoying the company of my friends and co-workers . . . I'm doing okay." His voice retained the calm tone, but he was smiling again.

"Good. I was worried about you there for a bit. You know that first time we met when I behaved so inappropriate," she grinned shyly.

"Nah," he responded, with a casual wave of his hand. "I wasn't the model of professional civility myself," he noted. "Stuff happens. Life's a constant rehearsal -- there are always scenes that can be done better again the next time." He gave Bran a friendly wink.

Brian glanced at the muffin plate and sighed. "Well, speaking of professionalism, I guess I should get going, have a report I need to finish," he said as he got up from his seat. "I'm sure you must have a marine or two to do some aroma therapy or something with?" he joked.

Branwen giggled. "Yoga class first. Take care, Brian."

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around . . . enjoy your yoga," he said with raised eyebrows and a silly grin. He gave her a friendly touch on the arm. "Next time we have a chance, I want to hear how *you're* doing." He smiled again, then headed for his office.

"Nothing But Net"

Captain Cass Henderson,
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Major Corran Rex,
Commanding Officer, Vanguard Squadron

****

Gymnasium 1,
Deck 12,
USS Galaxy

Corran wasn't really surprised, but Cass was late for their daily game. Or bi-daily. Or however often is was they played. The Trill, though, was in is workout gear, and passing the time on the basketball court by shooting free throws until the XO arrived. Granted, while they were still here at DS5, the command staff was being run ragged by 'Admiral Prissy-Bitch', as the (largely female) Vanguard flight crews had named her. There was every possibility that Henderson might not make it. It wasn't like the last few days hadn't been completely insane. Or that when the relief ships had showed up with repair crews and new personnel for DS5, that the ship hadn't been busy coordinating efforts to get the station operational once again. (Not to mention the shipyards.) Luckily, all those scrapped ships out there would be salvageable with some work. Most would, anyway. The Vanguards were flying a rotating CAP - Combat Air Patrol - to keep off the occasional smuggler, salvager, or pirate that showed up, looking for a free ship. They'd been supplemented by the arrival of Freedom Group, off of the Concorde, a carrier that had spearheaded the relief, repair & restocking force.

So Proctor was largely leaving Corran and his pilots alone - something the Trill was eminently thankful for.

It was another five minutes before Cass Henderson walked through the door to the basketball court. He'd been in conference with the Strategic Operations Liaisons from across the Sector, trying to work out a redistribution of forces along the border, mostly to compensate for having to move the Concorde Task Force to repair duties.

The meeting had let out more or less on time, but Lieutenant Commander th'Vhaeraith from the USS Ashoka had required 'a word in private'. After politely listening to the Andorian's concerns for fifteen minutes, he'd become impatient. When a half hour passed, he'd been prepared to strangle the man - across several light years of space.

It had taken him another fifteen minutes to explain that it was impossible for th'Vhaeraith to diverge from the plan that they'd agreed upon - and thus he was now fifteen minutes late arriving - incorrectly dressed and unprepared.

"Hey, Corran," Cass said as he passed the Trill fighter pilot on his way to the changing room. "Sorry I'm late. One of the SOL's was trying to bullshit me again. I'll be back in a second."

"Heh." Corran chuckled as his friend entered the court - and recognizing the expression contained there. "You've got Andorian face."

"What?"

"Andorian face." the Major clarified. "The end result of arguing with either an irritatingly calm or irritatingly passionate Andorian for far longer than you'd like."

"Yeah, I get that a lot, these days," Cass laughed, calling over his shoulder as he disappeared into the changing room. "If it's not Tish, it's somebody else."

A few minutes later he came back out, appropriately dressed, and stepped over to where Corran was waiting. He looked down at the ball, balefully. After nearly an hour of giving himself 'Andorian face', he was pretty beat. "How're you holding up? I heard *they* got you too."

"That's a hell of a way of putting it." Corran replied, absently dribbling a ball. "You want me to tell you about this time, or the last time I met them, eight hundred years ago?"

"I was asking about this time, but I suppose 'both' might be a better..." Cass replied, immediately - before his brain caught up to his ears and made the connection. "Rex, what do you mean, *eight* hundred? The last time we talked about your age, the largest number I remember being mentioned was closer to five."

"You're a quick one, Cass." Corran deadpanned. "I can see why you became XO - obviously your towering intellect dwarfs us mere mortals."

"Why thank you, Corran" Cass replied, ignoring the sarcasm in his friend's retort. "I'm guessing our run-in with the Dithparu left you with some new developments. Care to share, or is that a story for another time?"

Corran began his story as they started their game, giving the details as they wen through the customary series of blocks, shots, rebounds, passes - and of course, fouls. He related the details about the memory block, his true age, his thirty additional past hosts, and of course, the nature of the "disease" he'd formerly suffered from.

Laying that final bombshell rather nicely distracted Cass, who stopped in the middle of his guard, and Corran was able to score a three-point shot.

Cass recovered on the next play, feinting and ducking back to the other way to sink a jump shot for two. While Corran was fielding the ball, Cass thought about the implications of what he'd just been told. "I'll freely admit to not being too knowledgeable about Trill biology, but isn't T'Rex's Syndrome pretty common?

"Among supposedly older symbiotes, yeah." Corran nodded. "Meaning there's about, oh, a million or so symbionts who've had some of their memories blocked. Possibly unwillingly."

"That's a pretty big portion of the population," Cass said. He wasn't too surprised. It wouldn't be the first major revelation to come out of the Trill government in the last few years. They seemed to like their secrets. "Have you contacted President Durghan yet?"

The CAG shook his head quickly. "Not yet. Lirisse has enough on her shoulders right now. And besides - what proof do I have? Two thousand years worth of memories that'll take me months - if not years - to sort through."

"That's true enough," Cass said, moving in to guard as Corran moved the ball back across the court. Fake left, block right, too late... The ball ricocheted off the backboard. "Sounds like you'll have to handle that side of things as they come - and in the meantime, get to know your 'new' past."

Corran caught the rebound. "Yeah... it's interesting." he said. An understatement, to be sure. "It's just this big jumble. I keep catching myself doing things I don't expect. I woke up yesterday standing on my head."

"I feel like I've been turned on my head these last few months, if that makes you feel any better," Cass replied, maneuvering to cover him again.

"Did you develop a sudden fascination for crocheting or Klingon bat'leth making?"

"No, but my schedule seems to have developed a sudden fascination for putting me in the path of Admiral Proctor," Cass replied, though his face broke into a grin at the idea of the lanky pilot toiling over a forge... or sitting in an overstuffed armchair, legs covered in the blanket that he was crocheting. "And now they tell me I'm supposed to take over for the Captain."

"Allright, you win." the CAG conceded. "So what's your story?"

"Proctor complained to Starfleet Command, so their relieving Captain M'Kantu of command pending an investigation by Starfleet Security," Cass elaborated, putting the ball up for a three point shot. "Command decided that giving me a field promotion was the best option, so now I have... everything on my plate."

That brought a frown out of the Trill. "They're taking *Proctor's* word over the Captain's? " he questioned. "Who could possibly take her seriously?"

"Anyone who hasn't lived in the same solar system as her for six months," Cass shook his. Unfortunate, really, but rank had weight to it, even for people like Olivia Proctor. "In my estimation, Command did the intelligent thing, and sent out an investigation, though that's going to put Captain M'Kantu on DS5 for a while longer."

Corran raised an eyebrow, and hooked the basketball under his arm, pausing the game. "You're not just saying that because you're getting a fourth pip for a little while, are you?"

"No," Cass replied, grateful for the reprieve, even if it was born of doubt. "I'm saying that because it's better than if Command had just bought Proctor's story. I won't deny that I'd like my own ship someday, but I've only been an executive officer for two years. I feel comfortable acting as a stand-in, but I'm not prepared for command just yet."

"Just checking." Corran replied, and then suddenly made a shot for another three-pointer while Cass thought the game was stopped. It sank with a satisfying swish - nothing but net.

"Typical fighter jock," Cass grumbled, shaking his head as he retrieved the ball. Dribbling back up to mid court, he passed ball to Corran, fielded the pass back, and then made his way up the court, evading the much taller Trill. His height was an advantage in their semiweekly games, but not an insurmountable one. "The biggest issue is what do I do for help. I need to name a temporary XO, before we leave for Atlantis - problem being that my options aren't that good."

"Karyn's next in line," Corran admitted, "But her disability is a problem."

"Beyond that, she's a political nightmare," Cass replied, weaving to the left. "Command and Council still haven't gotten over the Ianjep nightmare four years ago. Not entirely, anyway."

"And Jimmy-boy's a little too... intense." the CAG continued, trying to run down the list of the Galaxy's senior-most officers.

"You have that right. I'd pick you, but you're a subordinate command, so it's a non-option... even if I could pry you from the cockpit."

The Trill shrugged there. "Eh, it's happened before. Grey had a Marine for her XO over on the Arizona for years."

"Oh yeah? I hadn't heard," Cass replied, taking an opportunity for another two point shot. "Well, if I can use that for precedent, then the job's yours if you want it. You won't see too much stick time, though - that I can attest to."

Corran let out a deep breath. He'd just gotten a new XO - Teyri - for the Squadron. Was he ready to turn things over to her, even temporarily? He wasn't sure. "Consider me your backup." he said finally. "If you can't get someone else for the job, then I can place Lieutenant Teyri in temporary command of the Vanguards."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cass said, snagging the ball to effectively end the game. He'd gone from tired to exhausted, so it was time to quit. "I'm going to see if there are any over-ripe department heads in the Concorde Task Force, or unattached officers floating around."

"Good plan." Corran replied, tossing Cass one of the two water bottles from the side of the court. "And congratulations. Condolences, too."

"All of the above, all at once," Cass shrugged, barely snagging the water bottle. "At least my senses are back. Three months ago, I would have fumbled this bottle. I'm barely a P3, but being without any sort of mental ability for four months was like having everything slightly out of focus."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Boy Meets Girl"

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile.
Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

He had asked Maya to leave him alone, to stay out of his head for a while. Being forced to talk to her, smell her, see her, even touch her was stirring up things inside he didn't wanted to or needed to let out. Not now. Finding a place to be alone on a ship like the Galaxy was no easy task. Especially when one did not want to remain in the assigned quarters. He had started to like the quiet of the night. Well, maybe not like since his favourite time of the day had always been the night, but he appreciated the darkness in a completely different fashion than before.

She didn't know where she wanted to be. Her quarters felt too quiet; Ten-Forward felt too loud. The holodecks were full, and she didn't want to be anywhere near the Galaxy school. She didn'twant to talk to Ella right now, who was having her own problems, and she obviously couldn't talk to Himne as she had just broken up with him. She needed to think, or contemplate, or something, and there was only place on board she could think to do it. Unfortunately for her, somebody else was already there.

The room was dark, save the faint silvery light from the stars outside. Someone was by the entrance. He could hear the heartbeat in the dark. Slowly he lifted the goggles protecting his eyes. Immediately the veils of darkness lifted and he saw a dark haired Vulcan woman stand in the doorway. No, he corrected himself a second later. That one was no Vulcan. Some halfbreed of sorts. The thin smile of a predator graced his face for a moment before slipping back in the darkness. He replaced the goggles again and a peaceful darkness took away the stinging pain in his eyes.

She stepped further in the room, waiting to see if the man was going to acknowledge her. He didn't. She decided to just leave him alone and do her own thing. ..this decision lasted for approximately 35 seconds because minding her own business had never been her strong suit. She stepped closer to the guy and said, "Hi."

He was sitting down, leaning against the wall opposite the viewports. His tattooed arms rested on top of his knees, with his hands hanging down. "Leave the lights off.." He was in a foul mood, caught in events moving too fast for him at the moment. Time was what he needed, time to get his bearings again. Time was just something he wouldn't get more of.

"Okay," she said slowly, watching him. He looked like a guy trying to outbrood Victor Krieghoff. She didn't actually think this was possible, but it'd be interesting to watch. "You going for what? A night avenger kind of thing? Live in the shadows, scowl a lot, curse the world? Very Batman of you."

The stars outside fascinated him. The light outside the ship seemed more alive than it had ever done before. Seeing the world with new eyes. "I'm... sensitive to light.. and I think the world is doing a good job at cursing itself without me lending a hand.." he replied in a low voice that sounded like he had been drinking a lot of alcohol the last few days. "And don't know no Batman."

Ah. He was one of those. Broody/self-pitying/scarred past drunks. Those kind of guys were either very interesting, or veeeeery boring. She chewed on her lower lip for a minute, thought about it, and went to sit near the Batman wannabe. This was probably not one of her brightest ideas, going to sit near some scary looking stranger in a pitch black room, but she went and sat anyway. Old habits were hard to break, and listening to sad stories was any good barmaid's.

She  pulled out a small flask of ale that she'd taken to hiding in her uniform. Taking a small sip, she offered it silently to the guy, and said, "Batman's this guy who had this real crappy childhood. He goes through all this trauma, right, and because of it, Batty decides to go right wrongs, avenge the hurt, protect the innocent, and all that jazz. Half the time, he's hated by the world, even though he risks his life every night to save it. Sound anything like your story?

He accepted the flask and took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed it back. "My story?" he asked with some contempt to his voice. "That Batty sounds like a utopia thought up by some liberal peacelover on drugs.."

She shook her head at this total sacrilege, but decided not to comment. She watched him as he talked, interested in spite of herself.

Leaning his head against the cool bulkhead he held up one of his hands into his line of sight. "I don't really care about doing the wrongs right.. I'm usually the guy that causes the wrongs.. " he continued with a morbid tone to the words. "and as far as innocent goes - there are none." His hand closed into a fist hard enough to make his knuckles crack. "Tell me.. what brought you here? Guilt? Fear? Worn out?"

She thought about that. "Triple shot of all three, I suppose," she said, and drank from her flask. "Mostly just the last one, though. Life on this ship can make you very tired. I don't suppose sitting alone in a dark room is helping any, though. Darkness only makes the hard thoughts louder."

She watched her broody companion for a moment in silence. He was so intensely morbid that she almost wanted to laugh at him; he didn't appear to have the slightest bit of a sense of humor, which was something she usually needed in a man or a friend. But she felt a little sorry for him anyway, though. Maybe going through a psychic mind-raping was giving her a little compassion for others, who knew?

She stored her flask away safely within her uniform, and said, "You wanna go somewhere louder? Make the thoughts go away?

He turned his head towards her, tilted to one side and looked at her. His eyes covered by the dark goggles. "And where would that be?"

"That," she said,"is up to you. We can go to Ten-Forward. . the holodeck. . .my quarters. . .your quarters. . .what are you in the mood for?"

As long as it didn't involve sparring. He was filled with energy waiting searching for a way out and a sparring would most likely end very bad. In a single fluid motion he pushed himself away from the wall and stood up, still looking at her. "Your quarters." was all he said.

Hmmph. If anyone had else had answered 'your quarters', she would have assumed that they wanted to screw. She couldn't read this guy, though, so she wasn't sure. He had a very caged look, as if something inside wanted to get out, but she didn't know him well enough to know if that meant he was horny or violent. Or both.

If he did want to have sex, though, she kind of wanted to know about it. She certainly wasn't against the notion. He had that muscled, grrr looking of a marine, and she had never had sex with a marine before. It could be kind of interesting.

She raised an eyebrow at him appraisingly and decided to be more blunt about the whole thing. "So, when I say 'make things loud' and 'in my quarters' together in conjunction, I usually mean 'Do you want to fuck?' Your absolute lack of expression makes me unsure if you're interested or not. Are you, or are you more interested in talking or drinking or something." She thought about that. "I guess that could be okay, too."

He stood patiently and waited for the words that seemed to pour out of her mouth in and almost endless stream, to end. "I didn't say no, did I?" his voice rasped in I've-had-a-little-too-much-too-drink-in-the-last-couple-of-weeks kind of voice. He walked up to the door and turned to look at the shorter woman. "Coming? Or you plan on talking more?"

"Gee, I picked a charmer this time, didn't I?" she said outloud, and rolled her eyes. "I'm coming." She walked towards him, and as they left the room, she turned to him. "I realize conversation isn't big with you, but I have just one question."

"And what might that be?" he replied, holding back a sigh.

8-ball raised her eyebrows at him. "What the hell is your name?"

"Common Bonds"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Ensign Paulo DiMillo
Intelligence Officer

*****
Cora's Office,
Intel Center
USS Galaxy
*****

Paulo walked down the corridor. The Captain had been relived of command, and that bitch of and Admiral must be behind it. He walked into the Intel offices and smiled not seeing Saul. He liked the fact he had been transfered out of the department, though Cora wouldn't say why, and Paulo knew she knew. But that would have to wait. He went up and knocked on the window to show he was there and she waved him in.

"Morning," Paulo said as he headed right to the replicator. "Computer, two raktajinos." After the two cups materialized he picked them up and took them over to her desk and set them down, then taking a seat himself, sipping on his raktajino.

Cora accepted the drink with a smile, "Thank you. If there's one thing you always remember its what I like in the morning."

Paulo smiled. "Well after having these meetings for a few years in a row now, one learns a few things, and your welcome."

"Anyway I have some good news for a change," she paused, "At least I hope it turns out that way."

"If it has to do with Intel, it can't be," he said taking a sip.

She looked at him, "We're going to be the first Intel team to canvas the area Galaxy is headed. Obviously Starfleet wants data but we get to go at it fresh with no previous information to interfere."

"That will be a nice change," Paulo replied. "Will we have any support from the Hazard team?" Paulo asked.

"I'd say that's up to us and what personnel are available. We want to have ourselves covered but we don't want to give ourselves away on this one either," she paused, "Have you met with our newest addition to the dept yet?"

"No not yet, though I have gone through his record. Interesting?" Paulo asked. "And I say give us three, just enough to give us enough cover, and we can fit into a small shuttle easily that way."

"Raynor's otherwise occupied this mission but he's interesting to say the least. However I was referring to our Counter-Intel expert," she let that sink in.

"Oh," Paulo replied feeling a little stupid. He had gotten a lot of help and was actually able to block out the thoughts. "No not yet."

Cora continued, "As for the extra assistance I'll see what I can do." Although her own plans called for some true undercover work would only be hampered if others got in the way.

Paulo nodded. "Though if you want to go full undercover, maybe just borrowing some of their toys will be good enough," he said with a smile.

"So how are you doing?" The question seemed appropriate to ask.

Paulo didn't respond for a few seconds. "I am doing better. I have learned to block out most people's thoughts and emotions, so there isn't much of a problem there anymore," he started. "It kind of nice to have my own mind back without hearing what everyone else thinks. Though I still can't believe I did what I did back on DS5."

"Believe me I understand all too well. Everything that happened on DS5 is impossible to forget. When I think of how close I came to dying as a result of all that. Its been a rough time for all of us."

Paulo nodded in understandment. "It's just scary that things like that exist out there, that can take us over on a whim and make us do things we don't want to do." Paulo paused taking a sip of his raktajino. "How are you doing?" Paulo asked her.

Cora took a sip of her drink as she pondered the question for a moment longer, "Can't expect an overnight change after 4 months of rehab as a constant reminder but I'd say I'm doing okay. Getting help."

Paulo nodded. "That is good," he said taking a sip. "To tell the truth, I kind of stopped going. I can't stand talking to people that know nothing about me. I much rather talk with someone I have a history with."

Absently Cora nodded, "I hate it with a passion but I go because I really can't afford not to right now. In my career I've done some awful things but this...the rage...the pure need for revenge and total hate are still overwhelming at times but I know that's not me."

Pete took a sip of his drink. "Well if you ever want to talk, I am here," he said. "We both have been through a lot, and it couldn't hurt to talk to someone that knows what you are going through."

"Just the fact that you are here and you do understand means a lot. Part of me wants to get back to feeling human on some level," she paused and took a sip. "It seems like I'm still trying to sort it all out yet all of it haunts me. What's your first memory after the whole incident was over?"

Paulo thought a few seconds as he took a sip. "London and I where helping Jamson restore power, when we then turned and started attacking Jamson. Then..." Paulo trailed off. He didn't know if he wanted to tell Cora about waking up naked to London. He still didn't want to think about it.

"Anything has to be better than waking up in sickbay afraid you may never move again," Cora responded.

Paulo nodded. "That would be true," he said taking a sip of his drink. "Are you physically recovered?" He asked.

"Physically yes I'm almost back to myself," Cora replied with a smile. "It will always be with me but I defied the odds."

Paulo smiled. "Well good. It wouldn't be the same without you," he said with a caring smile.

"Thank you," she replied her sincerity clear. "If I haven't mentioned it before now I'm glad to have you around."

Paulo smiled. "Well, I am glad to be here. I don't think I could stand being any place else right now."

At that Cora nodded. "So how about dinner? It will give us a better chance to talk and to get ourselves away from duty for a short time."

Paulo was taken back for a second. "Sure," he said after a brief pause. "I would love to. Your quarters or mine?" He asked.

"Either is fine with me. Which do you prefer," it felt odd asking that question but Cora was more than relieved to have her invitation accepted.

"Yours," he finally said. "Mine is a bit small, and I can't cook."

"1900 then," Cora replied briefly wondering what had gotten into her but didn't want to ignore the feeling it provoked either.

Paulo nodded. "I will be there," he said just as a comm channel was open.

["Smith to DiMillo."]

Paulo groaned. The young woman named Smith would be the end of him. "Yes, go ahead Jackie," he finally replied.

["Sir, we have received the information you were waiting on for case number 236."]

Paulo smiled. Maybe she wouldn't be the end of him after all. "Thank you Crewman, I will be right there. DiMillo out."

An inquisitive look appeared on her face. Though Cora said nothing a let him explain.

"Case 236 is the Nara and Saul case. I haven't closed it yet," he said. "There is something there, and I will find out what it is."

"When you do let me know," she replied. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a lesson in futility, known as paperwork, demanding my attention."

Paulo smiled as he stood and bowed a little. "Have fun with that, and I will see you at 1900."

"1900 and don't forget the wine," Cora replied feeling the best she had in a

long time. It would be good to forget about her problems for a time.

"I have a good bottle in hiding that I will have to break out," he said. "See you tonight," he finished as he exited her office and headed to get to work.

Stood still on a highway
I saw a woman
By the side of the road
With a face that I knew like my own
Reflected in my window
Well she walked up to my quarterlight
And she bent down real slow
A fearful pressure paralyzed me in my shadow She said 'Son, what are you doing here?
My fear for you has turned me in my grave'
I said 'mama, I've come to the valley of the rich Myself to sell'
She said 'Son, this is the road to hell'

On your journey cross the wilderness
From the desert to the well
You have strayed upon the motorway to hell (Chris Rea; Road to Hell part 1)

"insight 1: Scapegoat"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Ten-Forward***

Outlet. Everyone needs one. A way to blow off steam when things get out of hand or simply too much to bear. Baile had a few. Fighting was one of them and it was the best although fighting in the holodeck no longer worked for him. It had to be live combat. That's when he was at his best. Drinking was another.

He had been drinking since he entered the marines. On leaves, off duty and sometimes even on duty, but Colonel Caileb had never cared about it. None of

it affected his performance as a marine. No, his performance as a killer because that was what he was.

Normally he drank alone, or rather he drank and Maya was there. She was often there, but at times she left him alone. Ever since his eyes had been replaced he had changed. Into what only God knew. He turned another shot glass upside down and filled the next one. Bad memories filled his head, adding to the chaos inside his mind.

Nara sat in her normal corner. Not reading or sipping. Just staring out the window as she hugged her legs to herself. It took a lot of emotional energy - which she lacked these days - to convince Saia to go to school. That the Dithparu were gone and 8-Ball was not even working in the school any more, and even so, she's not really evil. Mischievous, yes. Evil, no.

She took a deep sigh and closed her eyes a moment willing the tears away. She was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She wished she could be with Saul. This seemed a good time to have someone. Even if she wanted to push him and everyone away. It was a struggle just to push that old independent, "I can take care of myself" attitude away. She had done it before, but it seemed the worse the situation, the more tempting it was to hide away. And the harder it was to hide that she did need someone.

Five. Six. He tossed them down, one by one. He wasn't really aiming to get roaring drunk. If he did then there was a likelihood people would get hurt and he'd get thrown in the brig. Seven. He turned the seventh glass upside down and pushed it close to the others.

The rumors about him had turned to truths. It was known he had killed several members of the crew while they had been possessed by the Dithparu. No one could accuse him for it, not legally anyway, but socially - that was another story. Good thing he had never been a very social person.

Nara opened her eyes and momentarily caught a glimpse of some people pointing and whispering. It wasn't about her. No. The pointing was at the bar. Apparently, someone had done worse than fiddle with the environmental controls.

She looked toward the bar herself, seeing a freakishly familiar man. She blinked and tilted her head watching him chug the drinks.

She shuddered as vague memories--memories of seeing someone else's memory--hit her. She stood and slowly walked closer. He didn't seem as dangerous as the memories of memories made him. He looked more like a man looking to drown his sorrows, or something. Leaning heavily on his elbows Baile kept looking at the empty glasses. He filled a new one, but the bottle down, took the glass, closed his eyes and tossed the alcohol down. He grimaced as he lowered his head again. The light

in the room made him irritated, but the sunglasses kept some of it out.

Everyone else onboard the ship had an excuse for their somewhat morbid behaviour earlier. Baile didn't. He was what he was - a purebred killer. Every time he saw Maya he was reminded of it. ~It's what you know.. What you

are..~. Maybe. Slowly a heartbeat started coming into focus in the noise that was his world. He sniffed the air, but the stench of alcohol was all he

could feel.

He knew when he was being watched and like most of the time he didn't like it. "Seen enough, Sparky?" he grumbled and refilled the glass again.

"My name isn't Sparky." She felt it odd she knew to respond to him as cold as he would her. Even if he wasn't so obvious about it the moment you met him, she felt like she knew more about him than she should. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to figure out as much about what happened as I can. I met you before, but there's something else. I know a little how you fight."

The marine tossed back number nine and placed the glass on the table as if it was made of some highly instable explosive material. "Know how I fight?" he replied, keeping his head bowed. "And just how the hell do you figure that out, Dorothy?"

"Call me Nara, Naranda, Lt. Call me something besides those cheesy nicknames

you change at every turn." She replied before getting back to the subject, "Are you aware HOW this crap happened? Do you care that your crewmates had no choice in the matter? Do you know that we were occupied by beings? That everyone you killed was innocent?" She heard the rumors, and for once gave a

flip about it.

In fact she had quite an opinion on it. The fact she wasn't caring how he would react was an afterthought.

Innocent? There was a figurative four letter word. He looked at her and removed the glasses. The light caused him to frown, but the blank eyes looked at her, seemingly absorbing the light that fell on them. "That's one way of looking at it, Barbara.." he replied, ignoring the request to call her Nara.. "And no - I don't care HOW this crap happened."

She slightly startled at the eyes. She whispered "Ioa." She looked at him narrowing her eyes, "You fought Ioa."

The name didn't ring a bell first. He hadn't bothered to remember their names, but then it clicked. Pouring himself another shot he leaned on the elbows again. The shot just stood there. Tempted him. He could feel the eyes

of the people around him bury daggers in his back. Let them. Their problem. Not his. "The Dithparu couldn't fight worth monkeypiss... she was no exception.." he grumbled.

She got up in the stool next to him and looking at him, whispered, "I don't know what, but there's something odd about you. Victor doesn't admit it, but

he seems to care even though he considers himself Death incarnate. You, on the other hand are just as vulnerable as the rest of us Terrans. Something else is up, and I'm not in the mood for some marine, we don't care bout no one, attitude."

She leaned in closer, "Why did she find you interesting enough to penetrate?"

What the fuck? Had Baile been sober things would quite possibly gone ugly right from the get go. Alcohol was certainly not needed a requirement to unleash pain on others. He had virtually no idea who the young brat in front

of him was and who she thought she was to address him like that.

"Firstly - your mouth is a lot faster than you survival instincts, Priscilla.. You should look into that.. Second - Who the fuck is Victor and thirdly - Who the fuck do you think you are?! Not in the mood? Well, sorry Sally.. It's called life.. Deal with it."

She glared at him. She knew she was just taking it out on him. But what the heck. Why not. She doubted the man was crazy enough to start a fight, but if

he were, well she didn't care too much at the moment. She wanted to beat the

crap out of someone. "Lt. Roswell. We met on Trill. For a thankfully brief moment. I'm someone who's pretty ticked about what happened and you're my scapegoat."

Temper flared up inside Baile. The ascended warrior within him welcomed the challenge. It would be an entertaining break from the mundane pace he had settled into. His entire being screamed for battle, to walk the bloody fields, charging the enemy. But this was not an enemy. It was a kid with a big mouth. He refilled the glass and downed another shot.

"You're standing on a line. On the other side of it is a minefield. You might make it there. You might not." he warned her. Baile never made empty threats. Empty threats were useless if people started to think you didn't have the balls to pull it off. "Tell you what.. Go play in an airlock... "

"Insight 2: Conversation"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Jebediah Baile, Marines

***Ten-Forward***

You don't just talk to Baile. Talk could get you in a heap of trouble with such a man.

"You're standing on a line. On the other side of it is a minefield. You might make it there. You might not." he warned her. Baile never made empty threats. Empty threats were useless if people started to think you didn't have the balls to pull it off. "Tell you what.. Go play in an airlock... "

She stood down and looked away a moment. Reason hit her a moment. Something else she felt she shouldn't know. He would beat the crap out of her and feel

none the worse for it. She on the other hand, win or lose, would feel like an idiot for starting a fight over nothing.

"Sorry." She muttered, figuring he didn't care that she was. "Thank you."

"For what?" the marine asked her and refilled his glass.

"Trying to do something." She still didn't look up at him. She instead had started to move her finger around some pooled water from the previous stool's occupant's drink. "You tried and actually were ABLE to do something."

"Do or die, Simper Fi." he replied and put the glass down. "I got bored... and it was a too good of a fight to miss.."

"Sometimes it's do AND die." A smile crossed her face, "Which is actually quite honorable in itself. I guess I can give myself that. That I at least tried."

"Tell me something.." he looked at her, frowning ever so slightly. "What is it with you monkeys when you go into battle?"

She did turn to look at him, "Us monkeys? What do you mean? Starfleet?"

"Yeah."

"We fight to the best of our ability. We do our assigned job. Mine being to make sure everything works the way it should. And if need be, fight. With hands or phaser. And before you get all superior on me, I was a soldier in a

war. Maybe not a marine, but I did fight in a war. I saw friends killed and I killed. I killed my own people. I'm in Starfleet now and one thing I learned is that sometimes you can't be on the front lines fighting. Someone has got to make sure things are organized, that the equipment works. There has to be people to patch up the wounded. You need more than soldiers in a war." She was still looking him square in the eye, expecting him to laugh. Or in his case, say some smart-butt retort.

At least she made no damn excuses. "With hands or phasers.." he replied. "Most Fleeters I've seen fighting has their ass in one hand and the other stuck in it." Baile really didn't like Starfleet personnel. The takeover by the Dithparu had done nothing to change that. "When you monkeys go into battle I see a bunch of over confident fools who thinks the enemy has the brain capacity of a retarded snail. Explain it, cause I just don't fucking get it... Every damn ship I've been onboard there's always some monkey who needs to show that Fleeters are tougher than Marines... "

"For one, you're stereotyping. Secondly, you're right about some of them. I even overestimate myself and underestimate the enemy. These things were invisible to us. We didn't know until it was too late. I can't speak for the

other 'monkeys' but I know I fought till it nearly killed me. Except, when you have someone to take care of, you start to fight only if you can live from it. We have to pick our battles. This one was worth fighting, so I fought for all I was worth. Problem was, hurting ourselves and others didn't

do much aside from forcing them to find someone else to take over. Hardest battle to fight is in the mind and will." She didn't know where the philosophy came from.

He shook his head. "Not good enough Barbie.. I've seen this behaviour every since I joined the marines. Some fleeter comes up with a half-assed plan that assumes the enemy is blind and brain-dead and then when the shit hits the fan you call for us to clean up your mess..." Then he shrugged. "I fight

to win and I'll use any means that I can to make sure I do..."

She sighed, "Not trying to convince you. You asked; I answered. I'm not saying we're better or worse than you. We do things differently. We need you

to come in and fix things, yes. And..." She paused and shook her own head, "No. No use in trying to say you need us. You won't believe it and I really don't feel like being insulted again."

She looked down at the table again, "You're really a jerk. Some would say that's a stereotype of marines, but my roommate is Branwen. I'm sure you met

her already. So is it that you guys just grow into hardened stones?"

"Thing about Branwen is she can get stubborn and bossy like a marine, but at

home, she's totally different. Some people know how to leave the warzone behind them. Seems to me that the weak people can't let go."

She wasn't sure why she said that. She'd blame her mother on that too.

A very unnerving smile started spreading across Baile's face. Interesting. "Marines needs bus drivers and that's you. Marines can't run logistics on their own and that's a crucial part in warfare, but for some reason Fleeters

needs to piss territory and not let us do our job." Baile could feel the irritation inside of him grow by each second. "And Lt London.. She's a fuckin rookie.. The greenbean seen less combat than my left foot, for crying

out loud.. And as for weak... you have no idea what you're talkin about, Bambi..." his voice was low and filled with irritation.

"Red tape is everywhere. That's life." She threw the words back at him, "And

don't tell me you blame Bran for being young and inexperienced. Heck, you were young once. Maybe better than she is, but we can't all be perfectly heartless. She doesn't admit it, but she's ticked and hurt about Saul. The marine in her won't admit it. And I know weak. Weak also tries to forget the

warzone.

The secret is a balance. "Who knows? If I hang around marines enough, I'll learn to face up to it." The words were empty BS as she was sure he knew.

"We all have demons. How we deal with them determines how we live life and how we leave it. Can't blame anyone but ourselves for our lives."

Demons? She had no idea. He poured himself one more drink to stall for time,

to push down the rage that was brewing in him. His knuckles went white as he

gripped the bottle. "You think this," he said and tipped the bottle, "is about forgetting the warzone?"

She looked confused a moment and looked at the bottle. "No. I meant I was. You seem to hold liquor well."

"You know the difference between a soldier and a warrior?" he asked while downing the shot.

If there were a back on the stool, she would had sat back, but instead she looked at him and leaned her chin on a hand, "Enlighten me."

The grip on the bottle tightened even further. Her attitude was pissing him off. Badly. "Soldiers want to forget the battlefield. The warrior wants to forget not being on it."

"I hate war, so I guess I can't be a warrior. I don't want to forget the battlefield, though. If we forget that we fought for something, everything is in vain. It doesn't mean anything anymore. If we forget, then we're useless."

"I don't want to forget the battlefield. If we forget that we fought for something, everything is in vain. It doesn't mean anything anymore. If we forget, then we're useless. The memories are just hard sometimes. Surely you

can understand that. I don't think it's about the title or what we call ourselves. War is a part of life. A sad part, but a part nonetheless. Some people were born to fight all their life. Wars, demons, themselves, what have you." She shook her head, "I don't know what I'm going on about. On Sakaria, I'm looked at by the title they gave my father, and then the one they gave me. Here, that same title is giving me grief. Either way, I feel pressured to live up to it."

"Dorothy.. What the hell are you talking about?"

"On Sakaria, they titled me 'Warrior Daughter of Sakaria.' I fought no better than anyone else. It's a thorn in my side. Especially here. People think I think I'm better or something. I thought for once, I could escape people pre-judging me. I did escape people putting me on a pedestal, only to

find myself fighting to climb out of a pit to prove myself worthy to be even

a Starfleet officer. I'm really not sure which is worse. People overestimating me or underestimating me."

The marine nearly sighed. ""You've got to be shitting me, Mandy... that's your main worry?"

"No. It's one of my many petty worries. Like if Marks is gonna get justice. If Bran will ever get over Saul so we can all be friends. If Oshea will ever

stop thinking I'm a lazy deserter. If Saul's life will ever not be a complete mystery. I worry about little things like that. But if you want to know my main worry, it's that I wonder if Saia will ever be safe and if she'll be safer with me or back on Trill. But people like you wouldn't understand worries. You don't have any, do you?" She was being sarcastic now. He wouldn't admit anything and they both knew it.

If he and she and this and that. Had she any idea how it all sounded? "Bella.." he started, but had to interrupt to stop himself from laughing. "This is why I'll survive longer than any fleeter... "

She looked at him a moment, "You'll survive, but you don't care. Life isn't all about surviving. But I guess that's the very reason we need people like you and Victor. You do the surviving, so we can do the living." She smiled, "Should I bother apologizing for bringing all the sap over?"

"I play the part I do because someone has to.." his voice had lost some of the amused tone. "You need to stop apologizing for what you are and who you are.. Because you are.. With every damn word you say.." Baile said and pushed the bottle away. "I'll never apologize for who I am and what I do... I'm good at it.. damn good at what I do.."

She smiled at him, knowing well and not expecting a smile back, "Point taken. Whether anyone likes it or not, we fleeters and you marines serve together, and this may be lost on the likes of you, but I want to say it's an honor to serve with you." She couldn't say she warmed up to him. But she respected him.

"I'll give you some advice, no extra charge, Nara.." he said, using the name

she wanted him to use. "There are people who are born killers.. War is what we know and do better than anyone.. Don't try and match strides with us.. You'll only end up losing yourself."

She immediately frowned and looked at the table. The advice sounded familiar. She finally answered, "I suppose I should know that by now. I could be as arrogant as you and have nothing to prove that I have any right to be."

She wasn't sure what good it would do to tell of the worst memories she had of the war. Causing two comrades to die because she was so impatient, trigger happy and cocky and ran out before the command. Being in a POW camp and the words spoken by an old, wise Sakarian man. It wouldn't do any good on a man who's seen worse and more of it than she would.

A person didn't have such an attitude unless he had to deal with such horrors. And if he hadn't built the attitude, she summed up he would had killed himself or not survived any of it. He was right. She couldn't match him. They simply had different roles in life.

He leaned against the bar, shaking his head. "I've been in more wars and battles than probably half this ship put together." the marine said. "During

the Dominion Wars I had a total of eighteen days of leave and most of that was spent transferring from one place to the next.

I've seen things no normal and sane person ever should even hear about.. I've been so far behind the enemy lines I've been sure we would never come back again.. So I play the part I've been given."

Civil wars were different, Nara assumed. Sure you were fighting your own people, but it never quite as brutal as any battle she's encountered in Starfleet. She experienced that the first battle she was in. "There's something else. Like I said before. Something that Ioa saw. I couldn't see all she had in her mind, but I know she was scared of whatever it was."

She looked at him again, "I'm just wondering if it's something we should fear."

"What did she see then?" he could feel her presence long before he saw her.

"Something else in your mind."

"Insight 3: Ghosts"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Ten-Forward***

The thing about talking to anyone, was eventually you see past the rumors and reputation.

"Something else in your mind."

The thing, what ever it was inside of him, managed to slip out of Baile's control for a second and look out Baile's eyes. That was his true nature. The ultimate predator. "I have a lot of things in my mind.. care to be more specific?" he asked while ignoring the blond woman next to him.

Nara searched her memory for what little she got out of Ioa. "Another mind. Not the same species, but like the Dithparu as in they don't have physical bodies. A ghost. Heck, I don't know. I wasn't there. I'm going off someone else's memory."

"Must be.." he remarked offhanded. "And as far as ghosts goes.." he pointed to his head. "Plenty of those in there."

"Ghosts normally don't come out and flat out talk to you. Or...." She thought a moment, "Basically push out..." Nara shook her head, "Your ghost was able to resist what we couldn't." She shook her head, "You lucky dog. You have a guard at the door of your mind."

He nearly looked at Maya who was standing behind Nara. Damn she was so bloody good looking. "Not your memories, like you said yourself." Maya smiled at him, but he had the feeling he would need to get the girl sidetracked from what they were talking about.

Nara looked at him strangely, not quite understanding what he meant. "I don't know specifics, and I've gotten a talent for repressing, but what I allow myself to remember from her memories is that. Some kind of menacing presence. It threatened her. And Ioa believed it was stronger than the Dithparu. Apparently this being didn't seem obliged to help us with that though. Is it there just to protect you?"

Maya leaned in closer to Nara. "She is pretty... but she's not a part of this.. She is not like you, Killer.. She's weaker, indecisive.." The blonde woman walked over to Baile and leaned against him, letting her finger trail the outlines of his chin.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Nara..." he said after hearing her speak. Maya's scent made it harder to keep control over himself. How he wished he could feel the rush of battle right that very instant.

Nara tilted her head slightly, "Just curious then." She turned her head seeing someone pass.

Baile finished the last shot and stood up. He nodded to the bartender to give him one more bottle and grabbed a handful of shot glasses. Not really true to regs, but saying no to him wasn't easy right now. His reputation made sure of that. No one knew if he was going to start killing people again.

She just looked at him. The grabbing of the glasses would had been a good hint, as he seemed one not to be concerned HOW the drink got to his lips, but she didn't want to assume anything either. So, she just watched him a moment.

The marine pushed himself away from the bar and started leaving Ten Forward.

His head was aching, just like his eyes and it was wearing down on him.

Well, there were no hints. Now it was just the fact that she felt she was being shrugged off. She stood, and walked briskly to catch up. Once out the door, she spoke, "Did I miss the memo?"

"Insight 4: Following"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Corridor Outside Ten-Forward***

Well, there were no hints. Now it was just the fact that she felt she was being shrugged off. She stood, and walked briskly to catch up. Once out the door, she spoke, "Did I miss the memo?"

Naranda didn't take being shrugged off kindly, so when Baile just walked off

with so much as a goodbye, it left her offended.

He stopped and tried to ignore the look on Maya's face. "Sandy.. you're talking in tongues again..."

She sighed, "Well, people usually say goodbye when they decide to stop talking to someone."

Baile shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "I've never liked Ten Forward. So I'm

going somewhere else.."

Walking out in the hallway the woman continued to follow him. Stopping he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The light in here made his head ache. That and hearing her pulse start beating inside his head. "And here I thought we had reached an understanding... I'm a marine and I don't care..."

"Oh, I figured. However, I thought I caught a hint, but then maybe not. I didn't think you were the type of guy who would take glasses when he could drink straight from the bottle. Wasn't sure if you meant me to come or not."

She wondered if she should be embarrassed. She decided not to care. He didn't.

Baile looked at the shots glasses in his hand. "During the Dominion Wars I learned a drinking game from a man called Beuchamps.. real quiet guy. That's

what these are for.."

She looked at the glasses. Ok, so he hadn't intended for her to follow. Right now, she wanted to not think about what happened. Odd thing was, this man gave her an odd reminding of it. So why did she want to hang out with him? She looked at him. Seeing the creepy eyes again. That's why. He felt nothing. And it was starting to rub off. "How do you play?"

Those inhuman eyes looked at her, shielding what ever mysteries they held from anyone that looked into them. He eyed her from top to bottom. "Think you can handle it, Cakes?"

"Why don't we find out?" She smiled competively.

"Suit yourself..." he replied and started walking down the corridor. Everyone they met tried their best to avoid looking at his eyes, the most visible sign of his change. In Baile's world those people didn't even exist.

After a few minutes they reached what had been his goal - an observation deck.

Nara ignored the people. She admitted it bothered her a little, but she really had no time or tolerance for judgmental people. Sure they were likely

correct. Every minute with the man seemed to confirm he was a creep. But someone she knew she could trust non-the-less.

Trust not to rape her mind or body anyway. Maybe she was just a glutton for punishment. Maybe she wanted to be with someone rough so she was forced to at least act as rough herself. She wanted to feel as tough and confident as she did when in battle on Sakaria. Being with a hard-nosed marine seemed to fit that bill.

She stepped inside the room and ignored the peacefulness of it. She didn't want peace now. She wanted to relive "glory" days. She only a few times drank with the other soldiers, but now it seemed a good time to relive that.

She had gone through a very harsh battle and this seemed suitable.

He rolled his head from side to side, popping the neck loudly, much like a boxer getting ready for a fight. The bottle went on the table, one glass each which he filled. "This game was about the only time the big guy spoke..

For every drink the opponent takes you have to reveal a kill you've made. The more shots your opponent takes the more you have to reveal. No winners or losers here.. Just demons waiting to wreck some havoc.." he explained with cruel look on his face.

Nara thought a moment. She figured she had less than him. She wondered if the mines counted. She nodded, "Alright." She grabbed the glass not bothering to see whose turn it was. She poured it down her throat and then looked at him expectedly as she swallowed.

(Backpost)

“Introductions…”

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commanding Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Captains Office, November 25. 2382, Two days before transfer of command to Commander Henderson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ Another ship another Captain ~ Kimberly thought with a smile, she had to admit, while the upheaval of going from one assignment to another was a bit annoying, and leaving friends behind was not easy, this was part of going to a new place she really did enjoy, the meeting new people and getting to know them.

While she hadn't really been on the Relentless long enough to get to know too many people she did have a few regrets, especially about a few of her clients who were now going to have to settle down with new counsellors, though she was sure Telk would handle them all easily, there was a counsellor who could cope, she remembered with a smile.

Getting off the turbolift she looked around the bridge and smiled at the duty officer, ~ Better get used to seeing this, ~ she thought, walking over to the Captains ready room she tapped the chime and waited.

"Computer, pause." Dimming the display to the day-log, Daren brought up his calendar, not completely unsure he had an expected appointment. Verifying the chronometer against the day planner, he realized he had lost track of time, and almost forgotten his new Chief Medical Officer had arrived recently. The interview was due in a few short minutes.

How easily the hours flowed together these days. So much had to be addressed and dealt with. The station was due to come online by the end of the shift after scores of SCE's had descended on it to virtually rebuild it from the inside out. Memorial services for so many... Starfleet Command was requesting hourly updates on progress, interviews were scheduled with he and his command staff, psychiatric evaluations on the telepaths on board his ship, his ship practically rewired. And Proctor still harassing him even after she had left for her command post six weeks ago. Thankfully the object of the entire incident was destroyed; towed off into the nearest sun by a score of non-telepaths in whatever ships were operable.

So, he turned his log entry terminal down to a close, and called out to the visitor to come. He lifted himself out of his chair with a minor groan to cross the carpet to the replicator.

Hearing the summons Kimberly walked into the ready room and stood smartly before the Captains desk, "Lieutenant Kimberly Burton reporting Sir," she announced cheerfully, placing the PADD with her orders on his desk.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant." Daren placed his usual order of homebrew tea, which materialized onto the tray before he had even finished his sentence.

"Would you like a cup?"

"Thank you Sir, just some water please," she replied gratefully.

Daren nodded, ordering a standard glass, at which he carried and settled in front of the woman.

"I trust your trip was uneventful?"

"More or less Sir, yes, a bit of a strange encounter en-route, but I passed it to Fleet command for a follow up," she added as an after thought.

"Nothing can be so much as passed on as a random strange encounter out here, Lieutenant. Bear that in mind on this ship. Report anything out of the ordinary."

“Believe me Sir, I’m only too aware of how out of the ordinary things can get, I report just about everything, and it goes in my logs too,” she assured him

He nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his seat, then thought otherwise to stand instead. "I'm sure you'll find things far more exciting here, Doctor. More than you may like. We've a habit of getting ourselves into the thick of it of late," he waved a hand out towards the station drifting just beyond. The starship was now docked via a massive arm. The umbilical connects had finally come online for both station and ship. "Our patrol route takes us along the borders of the Romulans, Hydrans, Yanek, Judari, and Breen. Nothing is ever routine here."

"I've heard that the Galaxy has an interesting record," she admitted, “and that you've just come out of another hazardous assignment," looking thoughtful for a moment, "I think perhaps that's one reason I may have been considered for the job sir, I may be a new Doctor, but I'm also a fully qualified counsellor as well, perhaps someone thought a little crossover might be helpful," she suggested.

The dark-skinned Captains' forehead creased as he nodded. Setting his cup down, its steam twirled lazily into the air as he crossed his arms.

"We could use all the assistance that can be mustered. Mandatory counselling sessions are in order for the telepathically-inclined and any crew that were assaulted by the Dithparu. Everyone is taking on double-duties here while a great majority of our personnel are being evaluated. I'm afraid you'll have to handle both Medical and Counseling duties until the evaluations are done. Commander Karyn Dallas is someone you'll want to get in touch with."

"Aye Sir... If I may though, I've never encountered the Hydrans, and I've never even heard of the Judari, what are they like?" she asked curiously.

"The Hydrans have been assigned to us as our focus for Strategic Operations personnel here, being both the Tactical and Intelligence groups coordinated by Commander Henderson. Much on them is classified, but suffice it to say, any exobiology needs you are required to know can be acquired through him. They were one of the three groups we encountered at Havras, with the Breen and T`Kith`Kin. What is known of them is that they believe we ignored them after Operation Unity in 2310. Since then, for reasons known only to the Diplomatic Corps, relations with them ceased. Seventy years of silence, and now they have made contact again, not for opening relations, but for apparently, vengeance.

"We've had only a single close encounter with them since Havras, thankfully without an interstellar incident, not too long ago. It was through the actions of our ship's Liaison officer that hostilities were averted."

Reaching for his tea, he continued on after inhaling the aroma. Memories of his grandmother came to him as they always do.

"We've not encountered the Yanek. No one has, to my knowledge. We only know of their name through third-party channels. The Judari was assigned to the Relentless. I'm surprised you never heard of them. Captain Therrien must be content to be able to concentrate on the exploration side of Starfleet." He sighed. "Allah knows it may be some time before we get back to it."

“I was only aboard the Relentless for a few months sir, and she wasn’t in her regular patrol sector while I was there, other assignments,” she explained, “but everyone is certainly happier when exploration is the mission, I think most people see that as what we’re supposed to be out here for.”

M’Kantu only responded with a humming sound.

“Correct me if I’m wrong though Sir, if I recall, wasn’t there one encounter with the Yanek, the USS Arizona under Captain Rianiassastranara'Cessk,” mauling the pronunciation ever so slightly as she always did, “I was aboard when she went into the Black Nebula.” Kimberly asked.

“Quite possibly. I’ve never met her or had any dealings with the Arizona since Havras. It’s been a rather exciting year here of late, so contact with other Captains has been limited. Though, Federation Day on Earth is not a sign of better things to come.” He waved his hand.

“Anyhow, Lieutenant. Enough of this morbid thought. Tell me about yourself. What is it you hope to attain here on the Galaxy? Career aspirations?”

“Well, to start with to learn my new job better, I may be a qualified Doctor but there’s always more to learn, especially when you’re new,” she admitted, “long term though, I’m honestly not sure, I have two tough qualifications behind me, for now I just want to practice and be… useful,” she admitted, “I haven’t really given much thought to the long term future.”

"I'm sure you'll find yourself taking opportunity of many situations on the ship, Lieutenant." His terminal chimed. Reaching over, he read something as it scrolled by his screen. He nodded minutely as his face darkened.

"Doctor, I must apologize, but I will have to cut our meeting short today. Perhaps we can share a meal later? After the mandatory sessions are completed and we're underway? I have an incoming message I need to take."

“Of course Sir,” Kimberly said simply, standing, “thank you for you time, and, I’ll see you soon.” Standing to attention for a moment she smiled and left, leaving the Captain to his message.

[…]

"Captain, Are You Aware There's a Klingon On Your Bridge?"

Commander Kol, First Officer
Major Corran Rex, CAG

---------------------- Transporter Room Three, USS Galaxy ----------------------

Major Corran Rex was waiting patiently to receive the Galaxy's new first officer. It seemed the thing to do, as he knew the man, and would be the most accustomed to the Commander's particular... idiosyncrasies.

["DS5 Transporter Room 12 to USS Galaxy Transporter Room Three."] came the call of an almost panicked-sounding Chief, breaking the room's silence.

Chief Jensen was manning the station, and his eyes darted up to meet the CAG's. While there was surprise on his face - there was very little vocal communication in such routine transports at this - there wasn't one bit of surprise on Corran's.

The Trill simply reached forward, tapping the comm control on the transporter console. "Galaxy here. Go ahead." he said, bracing himself.

["Are you, ah, ready?"] came the sound of a nervous junior rating. For a moment, Corran pitied the kid.

"Send him over, DS5." the Major said, and gave a nod to Jensen. "Energize, Chief."

Jenson complied, and the new first officer materialized in the familiar blue sparkle of the transporter, only moments later.

The Commander stepped off the platform, his heavy boots thudding even on the metallic deck.

Jensen looked up.

And up.

"Holy Kolker." he whispered, taking a good, long look.

Corran smiled. "Commander Kol," he said, stepping forward. "Welcome to the Galaxy."

-------------------------- Bridge, Deck One USS Galaxy ---------------------------

Heads turned as he entered, and stood in front of the Captain's Chair. Many stared openly, no doubt surprised at at his size. Even amongst Klingons, Kol was not a small man, at just over seven feet of height as the humans measured it. He was also very much aware of that fact, and he often used that to his advantage as an intimidation tool. It Fahd certainly worked in this last year he had spent as Executive Officer of the Arizona.

He saw one Ensign, near the rear Engineering stations, actually start staring open mouthed, her hands slightly trembling. They feared him. That was good. That was right.

Placing a hand on the side of the chair, he spoke loud enough to address all present. "I am Kol, son of Korvath, grandson of Kor, the Da'har Master. I now take my place as first officer. I speak for the Captain, but I stand for the Crew. None of you are worthy of my blood, or my life." he said, and gave a good solid look at every person manning the bridge. "And I very much doubt any of you ever will be."

If a pin had dropped on the bridge at that point, the drop would have echoed from bulkhead to bulkhead. "If everyone on this bridge does not resume work within three seconds, I will behead you all, and bring in the next shift early."

"He's kidding, right?" another crewman whispered to Ensign Delphino, the one whose hands had shaken for a moment earlier.

"Would you like to find out, Ensign?" Kol said threateningly, head snapping around to meet the young human dead in the eyes.

"No, sir." he replied immediately.

"Excellent." came the large Klingon's reply, as he sat down in the Executive Officer's chair. "Now bring me this vessel's Record of Battle. And if I do not like what I see, then I will be most.. displeased. You would not like to see me.. displeased."

Ensign Colby Elliot swallowed the small lump in his throat. "You mean the ship's log, sir?"

"Whatever you call it."

"Right away, sir."

Corran just watched the entire exchange with a slightly amused look,and cleared his throat as he stood next to the Commander. "Commander, Captain Henderson is waiting for us in the ready room." he reminded patiently.

The big Klingon's brow knitted together a moment. "Yes, of course. Very well, my evaluation of the efficiency of this.. "crew" can wait until later." he replied, and stood. As they crossed the bridge to the ready room, the new first officer caught sight of something near the turbolift.

He lowered his voice to a whisper (the bass of which still traveled pretty far) and addressed the pilot. "Corran, there is a diminutive feline in uniform standing guard on the bridge. Is it the ship's... mascot?"

Corran's eyes darted to where Ensign Khatrowen was standing at his post. "No, that's Ensign Khatrowen. He's a Security officer." he managed to reply with a completely straight face.

Kol didn't miss a beat. "I see." he replied. "He will make an excellent snack." the Klingon replied, and pressed the doorchime for the ready room.

Rex couldn't say for certain the man was joking. He very sincerely hoped so.

For Kol's bio, go to http://www.ussmiranda.com/bios/kol.htm JPs available on request, send to pat.weber@gmail.com

"One Tough Customer" -- pt. 2

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Lt. j.g. Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

For a good several seconds Brian let his words hang in the air between them, sensing that Cora had heard them with more than just her ears. He could feel her resistance and was actually glad for it -- there was no need to resist that which held no effect.

"There's no better place to let go of some of that control. Let's not worry about the gory details for now . . . tell me more about how all this is effecting you," he gently encouraged. "What does being out of control mean to you?"

Cora looked at him, "Its frightening is the only word that immediately comes to mind. In this case well I had no clue I would be vulnerable."

Brian had no difficulty comprehending. It was a frightening experience, being on the inside of your own mind and body but with both under someone -- something -- else's control. And he hadn't known in advance either. By the time the crew began to make the connections he was already possessed.

"Can you say more about the frightening part? What specifically were you afraid of?"

"I'm not sure really, though I'd have to say not being me or returning to myself is one thing. And learning that like many of the other telepaths I too was possessed," Cora responded quietly.

It was evident to the counselor that vulnerability was a difficult lesson for the woman. It wasn't really *easy* for anyone, but the typically "stronger" types seemed to have the hardest time when it inevitably tore a hole in their illusion of emotional invincibility.

"That's a very understandable reaction, Lieutenant," Brian said empathetically. "The only thing worse than feeling like you've lost control -- in any context -- is feeling like you'll never get it back. But it's a process. It may take time."

Somehow hearing his last comment made things even more difficult for the Intelligence officer. In that very competitive world there was no place for weakness, "Easier said than done." Cora knew it only started with that one comment but went far deeper.

"Darn right," he readily agreed. "It's *not* easy. It can be a lot of work. But that's why you're here, and while I can't magically make you feel better or somehow give you an end run around the process, I *can* help you through it. But you *are* going to have to do the heavy lifting . . . and the first task is about really seeing what's there." He knew the first step could be the hardest; he just hoped she'd be willing to take it.

"A Terran theologian in the fifteenth century once said, 'Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself.' That's what this is all about."

She didn't know what to say to that. Hopefully it was true. However Cora found herself in a very dark place, one she didn't want to be in. Physically over the last several months she'd had more than enough vivid reminders of that. "So what now?" The question sounded tentative even though it had to be asked.

"What now is we keep going," Brian kindly answered. "You're off to a good start, Lieutenant, really. Let's talk a little more about the discovery of your ESP . . ."

"What do you want to know about it? I think so far I've been pretty open in saying I didn't know anything about my abilities until this incident."

"But you do now," the counselor pointed out. "Whether you like it or not, it's now part of your life, so I guess I was wondering if you've thought much about it post-Dithparu. It seems like it could be a pretty significant change for you."

Cora nodded, "Yes it is part of my life but in all sincerity my time has been spent trying to recover from the Dithparu incident. Yes the ESP is a big change for me but I'm not sure the reality of that has fully sunk in yet given everything else aside from asking myself how to I live with it."

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Brian felt an uncomfortable stirring. The discussion had suddenly come very close to home for the recovering Betazoid.

"The topics aren't as separated as you might think." There was a hint of uneasiness in his voice. "Facing the reality of an event like the encounter with the Dithparu also means recognizing that it's mostly because of this new ability that you were vulnerable to it . . . and that something similar could happen again." The statement uncomfortably reverberated through his mind.

For a long moment Dobryin was very quiet. His comment clearly bothered her because she'd had that thought herself and knew just how closely the two were related. "Things will never be as they were," Cora's comment sounded more like a whispered resignation than anything.

"No . . . they won't," Brian quietly agreed.

He was speaking to himself as much as to her.

"The Chief and The Chief"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

Lieutenant Raven Darkstar
Tactical Officer

Saul Bental considered himself a sane person. Even more sane than usual. Sure, he did some insane things in the past, but all were based on sound, calculated reasons and logic.

Now, sane people don't, by definition, speak to themselves. They can if they want to (It's nice talking to someone who agrees with you on everything once in a while), but they're not supposed to do it aloud. "How am I suppose to deal with this?", He told himself with frustration. "He's a friggin' Lieutenant. Used to be berevert commander on board. He's Bhrode's man - that nutto could've dropped him on the Captain's chair had he felt like it... and yet I have to tell this Indian WRESTLER what to do. Couldn't they just give me a bunch of Ensigns to order around?" By the time Raven entered the Chief Tactical Officer's office, Saul was ready to beat Commander Henderson with a Pakled for promoting the unsuspecting Dutchman to his current position. Darkstar seemed to fill the entire room. His presence seemed to loom over every nook and cranny of the office, as if he were some how challanging a batallion of angry Klingons or Breen to fall from a venelation grate, armed to the fang. His leathery face wore a stoic expression as he scanned the walls and desktop, noting that the multiple awards, certifications and potographs of the former Tactical Chief shaking hands with various members of Starfleet hierarchy were gone, replaced with a more spartan, personal decor. The most obvious being a three-dimensional photo of a big sail boat.

He nodded ever so perceptively in approval and Saul could see, not for the first time, Bhrode's steely influance in the Indian's demeanor. "Shalom Raven.", Saul began. Darkstar glanced at the chair, calculated that his weight and bulk would render it useless in 8.5 seconds, and clasped his hands behind his back in the 'at ease' pose, although truth be told, the Indian's 'at ease' pose looked more like that of a predator waiting to strike. "The reason I asked you to come over is that I really want to get to know the people I'm working with, and giving pumpous speeches isn't the best way for that... so, I'd like to hear everything you have to say... about you, about your role here, the department, whatever. I will also be glad to answer any questions you may have." Saul leaned backwards, staring the massive Indian in the eye. He didn't have high expectations for this intake interview. None at all. Raven paused and sniffed at the air. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the Tac Chief. "I am here to destroy that which has an intent to do the same to this ship, to protect the ship against 'the crew's uncanny ability to maximize their inefficiency', and to protect this ship from the lunacy that is Leo Streely. Not nessicarily in that order." Darkstar recited, quoting Fleet Admiral Bhrode and once more sniffing the air and leaning foreward a bit.

"I concur with the first part.", Saul nodded, "As for the crew's alleged inefficiency, I'll do my best to make 'at least' the Tactical department efficient, and am willing to accept any reccomendations you might have. As for Ambassador Streely... I thought he was posted here by the same Admiral who assigned you?"

"Correct" Darkstar said. He once more sniffed the air around him. To the chief, the man looked like a wolf catching a scent in the wind. "I must say.", Saul smirked, "that your posting as senior Tactical Officer is much less questionable than the Ambassador's posting."

"Mine is not to question the will of the Admiral." the indian growled, allowing his Bhrode conditioning to show. Saul raised an eyebrow. "It is my belief that there's nothing wrong with... questioning the acts of superior officers, even tell them your opinion respectfully, as long as in the end you obey the orders to the best of your ability. I'm not saying the decision is unsound, I'm just... curious."

Darkstar pondered the thought a moment. He had admittedly not thought of Streely as nothign more then a nusiance. A well meaning pest, but a pest nonetheless. "Leo seems to know everything that is happening on this ship, both officially and behind the scenes. He has the ability to dig up dirt others can't. He is often overlooked due to his outrageous personality. In the past this has allowed him to get places few others could." he said, crouching down and peering under the Chief Tactical officer's desk, placing one hand on the carpet and sniffing once more. Not quite able to place anything, he stood upright again and remained silent. "Is there anything wrong with the carpet, Raven?", Saul inquired.

Darkstar just grunted.

"At any rate, I suppose what you say about Leo is probably a good explenation. I haven't thought of it that way."

Raven bore a hole into the Tactical Cheif with his gaze. A handful of minutes died a slow death before the Indian even blinked. "You may be correct." he said.

"Anyway, we're not here to discuss the ambassador.", Saul rubbed his hands together. "You been here forever - except for when you were transferred to Bhrode's command where you were Chief of Security, let me ask your opinions of some of thew ship and her crew. What do you think of the ship's ability to defend itself?" "It's ability to defend itself is only as good as those who are operating it's defensive systems. The best defense is a good offense. I believe few in this department or on this ship hold that principal. That could be a weakness in battle. Also I think loosing the Phase Pulse Cannon at the retrofit was a mistake." Saul nodded. "I'll look into it. If it is indeed worth the maintnance cost and the energy consumption, I'll have them reinstall the cannon during the next retrofit. Now, what do you think of your peers, the people who work with us in Tactical?"

"With all due respect, I have no peers in this department. Loret has not been seen in weeks. Your Assistant Chief of Tactical is an Ensign. Bosco is Bosco and would be distracted by the first nipple he saw. This is quite possibly the thinnest department I have seen since the Galaxy Engineering Department years ago. A concern since we have one of the most critical departments on the ship, especially in this day and age."

Saul frowned. "Lieutenant, I tend to disagree with most of what you said. Chief Renora has only BEEN here for a few weeks, she's still adjusting, and since she's on TAG it's no wonder you don't get to see her. Re'yol might be an ensign, but people with her service record tend to have two pips if not more. As for Bosco... well, I suppose we should keep the nipples off the bridge while he's on duty."

"As you say, Chief." Darkstar rumbled dryly.

Saul smiled slyly. "You know, I'm glad I didn't ask you for an opinion about ME."

"You are an analyst and a numbers man. I think you are out of your element, yet you are my department head. Commander Henderson saw something in you and I am obliged to follow your orders. First officers have a history of making bad judgements on this ship though, and I believe you would have trouble making a tough instinctive call without overanalyzing the matter. That is dangerous. Only time will tell if I am wrong." "I don't claim to have rich history as a Tactical Officer. You know that, I know that, and Commander Henderson knows that.", Saul said sternly. "And that is also why I'm going to be very liberate in seeking the other senior Tactical Officers' counsel at first. At FIRST, Lieutenant. And as I said earlier in the conversation, experienced officer or not, once I do turn something into an order, I expect it to be followed, even by Commander Janx and yourself."

"My duty is to do what is nessicary to ensure the safty of this ship and her crew, not follow a blind or misplaced order. Sir." Darkstar said matter of factly, walking around to the other side of the desk and looking behind Saul. He sniffed once more and placed his palm on the top of the man's desk. It felt slightly warm to the touch. Satisfied, he resumed his position before the Chief. "I expect you to tell me if you think that I do something wrong. If I am indeed wrong, that thing will change. If not, it will remain, and not following it is called insubordination. I know this is an awkward situation, hearing that from someone who you officially outrank, but I'm afraid that's the way it is."

Darkstar nodded. "If there is nothing more, I have duties."

"All right. I'll see you on the bridge, Raven."

As the doors closed shut behind the massive Indian, Saul opened his desk drawer. Inside, a semi-eatten Falafel was awating the irritated Tactical chief. The pitah and the balls were still warm, and some Thina sauce spilled on the PADDs inside the drawer.

Their distinct smell caused Saul's nostrils to expand, and his stomach growled in expectation.

The Tactical chief sniffed the Falafel, smiled cheerfully, and took a very big byte.

"A man about a horse"

Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea
Chief Engineer / S.C.E. Liaison

:: Interior Corridor, USS Galaxy ::

Anna had pretty much stayed shy of everyone since the 'telepath uprising'. She didn't want to deal with anyone or try to answer any questions that where bound to be asked. Instead, she focused on fixing the ship and once that was done she opted for couple of days of rest and relaxation. Also giving the same for her crews, cause the good work they'd done.

The problem for all this was Anna wasn't good at taking time off, nor was she good at just being idle. Usually when she was she did something to make a problem just so she'd have something to fix. Such at the little near interstellar incident she did on Romulas. What could she do like that here on the Galaxy, short of insulting the Klingon in command and having her head lobbed off with a bat'leth?

Anna found herself though just walking the ship, dressed in casual clothing of black denim jeans and a form hugging black long sleeve turtle neck sweater. She hated wasting time, time was something a person couldn't get back or replace with something else. It was precious, more expensive then any of the finest goods a Frengi could sell; at least to Anna it was. Pausing for a moment, she turned and began to take strides toward the holodecks. Having thought she'd go for a horse back ride.

She'd not been in ages, it always made her feel so free. Stepping into the lift car, she called out the appropriate deck and then waited for it to arrive.

"Insight 5: Drinking Games"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck***

Nara had followed Baile into this strange Séance. Calling the demons to come

out and play. She definitely wasn’t being herself today. Maybe not being yourself sometimes helped you be more like yourself the rest of it time.

Demons of old would come out today. The main question was how the Fleeter would handle it. He leaned back as she tossed back the first drink. "Magnus Rhimes... merc.. cut his throat while getting inside their outpost in -78."

Slowly he filled one glass. It would probably be an even game this, with him

having tossed down a lot of booze earlier. Without diverting his eyes from Nara he tossed it down.

She concentrated on the aftertaste wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

When Saul and she tried to exchange stories, it didn't go well. Here, though, it was a blatant challenge. She was half tempted to kid about a roach she killed. Instead, she dug deep to her first battle, "Jonus Mioi. Shot him in the chest with a phaser. We went in to rescue some POWs. It was on stun, but he died of infection before we got him to our camp." She took another shot, racking her brain for any hand-combat situations she could recall.

"A nausciaan whose name I don't know... got the jump on a guy in the squad when we cleared out a bunker. Shot him in the head at point blank with this." he said and patted on his firearm. Like most spec ops he very strong opinions on what weapons to use. Bullets was his preference. The second drink went down without so much as a frown on his face.

"Someone, I later found out her name was Mewi, came after me, knocking the gun out of my hand. When I got the chance, I slammed her head against the concrete wall." Nara chugged the next drink, hoping to get enough into her before the emotions threatened to be revealed and she lost. She knew and she

was sure he knew this was competition. Or at least a test. They both also knew she likely would not get through this without the same solidness as him. They likely both expected it. Likely, both didn't care.

The marine chuckled. "A concrete kiss..." Then his face grew more somber and

seemed to think about what he'd say next. "A Romulan Centurion. He led a team into the same area as us. We killed them one by one. Took him down with

a steel wire." The next drink went down just as easy as the other one. It was time to up the stakes.

"A group of raiders. They attacked the medical unit I was at. I think I was able to put a few down with a scalpel. Others by phaser and I remember I got

one by choking him with suture wire." Her face crinkled trying to remember the details. She shuddered. She hadn't realized how far she pushed many of these memories. The memory jumping thing brought out some, but not all, of her harsher memories.

She took another drink with near-trembling hands, praying the alcohol would start to set in soon.

Maya looked at him a bit irritated. "This is not very nice of you and you know it." she chided him, but Baile met her gaze evenly. "Talk the talk. Walk the walk." he said with a shrug then turned to look at Nara. "Sinjia.. a Bajoran.. not sure what her problem was, but she attacked me while I was on leave... broke her neck." He readied two glasses and knocked them down one by one.

Two. She half wondered about the talk and walk business, but she had to concentrate on two more stories. "First battle after being promoted to commander, got a lead that a commandant was about to attach a fort city, and

we went in to disable him. Three guards stood at his door. We weren't going to kill them, but when we heard their backup coming.

We had to move quickly, so we shot them in their heads. There were three of us, so it worked well. Three months later, we were in a battle in a desert and I personally killed about five people." She then proceded to drink three

glasses. She knew he would keep calling and raising, but the alcohol was starting to kick in and she really didn't care.

Baile snickered. "Looks like we got ourselves a live honest to God killing machine here..." He then looked at the glasses. "Saktin Bay.. clearing up SI's mess.. They told us we would be facing hard opposition.. It was nothing

but scared kids who couldn't handle a gun without shooting themselves... We left no one alive." He had so many personal hells to choose from, so many faces that wanted to talk to him, show him their hatred. He poured himself three glasses, just like she had. "Now, none of the easy shit... I want to hear the killer in you... something personal.. Not that bullshit you just spit out.."

"You owe me two." She looked at him blankly. If they were playing this, it was going to be fair. "And 'something personal?' What do you think those were? Some movie I watched?"

She narrowed her eyes, "All of those kills were my own people. All people of

Sakaria."

"You want sympathy go see London.." Baile said with a shrug. "And as for two

drinks - none of those kids were older than fifteen.. They were just in SI's

way.. "

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. I'm not going for sympathy, but I'm giving you what I've got. You know not to be surprised that the worst, or best, depending how you look at it, is running into a person who was one of your closest friends in military training, only to learn that they were traitors for the other side." She paused and filled another glass before she continued, "He managed to get the weapon out of my hand. My first good hit was at his jaw. Then, eventually, I managed to punch him good in the nose. I

sat there, watching him die. Half of me grieving over a friend, the other half feeling triumphant for defeating the enemy. I watched the life drain out of him. As soon as there was no pulse, I left his body there." She picked the glass up, and drank from it three times.

She looked at him, "Your turn, Oh Killer of Killers." She sarcastically spurted before taking a seat.

"Expect the worst from people, cause they usually won't let you down.." he shrugged. "Most of my kills have been up close. I'm nearly always close enough to see them in the eyes. That's the difference from Fleeters in their

fancy ships.. I dare to watch them as they die.. "

"Maybe you're a warrior as they tell you; maybe you're a garbage collector. I can say I really don't give a flying fuck which.. But there is a difference between you and me... I don't apologize for what I do or what I am... How's that for a secret?"

"There's no secret to that. You tell me not to apologize for what I am. What

I am is someone who mourns death, even necessary death. I'll dish it out if need be, and I'm not afraid to face it. I do it, and I'm not afraid to feel it. I can deal with it, but I never want to be hardened to it. War is a necessary evil. Something we go through for peace. I'll be a part of that. It's in my blood. For Sakaria or the Federation, no matter how screwed up they're getting lately. There is a HUGE difference between us. You're afraid

to feel. I'm afraid NOT to feel. Maybe that makes you a better killer, but it makes me a better person."

They were right. Alcohol really loosens the tongue.

"Insight 6: Pinned"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck***

Nara had done it. She had insulted the man who she knew could break her in two. She was oddly brave, and somehow confident he would do anything short of killing her.

This was just too easy. Apparently alcohol was not her forte. Beauchamps had

been a master at this game. Then again he had been built like King Kong. "Afraid to feel? That's a good one.. You think war is honorable, some kind of pastime with a gentleman's agreement in it. In your world warriors are honorable. A warrior gives mercy when asked for, doesn't kill unarmed opponents... I've got a newsflash for you, Barbie.. War changes us all.. You

stay out there long enough and you'll become me... except I'm born to do this.." Suddenly his hand shot out with remarkable precision and caught her by the collar. With ease he slammed her down on the deck and placed a knee on her chest, pinning her down.

The knife appeared in his hand seemingly by magic and it didn't stop until the tip rested against her throat. "You sit here, tell me stories on how many you have killed and you understand nothing.... I'd not lose a second of

sleep running this through your throat.. Not a single second.." He shifted more weight on her ribs, pushing the air out of her lungs. "You can't scream

now.. Not enough air in your lungs..." he grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her to look him in the eyes. "You think you know me, that you can even begin to understand just how much better I am than you... "

Those inhuman eyes looked at her and he no longer bothered to hide the hunter inside. The killer, as she had called him - The Killer of Killers. He

was a new breed, a human the universe had never seen before. No mercy, no weakness.

For a moment, a flash of Marks passed through her. But Marks had no knife. Marks' touch was more invading. This touch. This touch that hungered for blood, she could handle. She couldn't scream. He was right. She knew he wouldn't kill her, though. There was no reason to. Yet, she couldn't really respond either.

She could had fought back, but she decided a different tactic. Something that would throw him off guard as much as he caught her. She still didn't know how well non-telepathics could hear mind-speak, but she tried, ~I don't

claim to know you. You can kill me and not care. You don't need to cram that

into me. I get it. Now. What the hell is the point in this?~

The marine kept pressing his knee on her chest. Maya stood behind her and raised an eyebrow. The Baile she remembered had never taken kindly to telepaths or telepathic intrusions. She made sure her presence couldn't be felt and continued to watch the drama in front of her.

"There is no point.. there is no point in war expect killing.. You sit there

and try match paces with me.. I've spent my whole life killing people and I know war intimately.. It's what I live and breathe.." his eyes burned into hers.

She considered saying something. Words were useless on this man.

She looked right back into the eyes. No matter how it brought the chill up her spine. She's seen the cybernetics in her father, so it wasn't exactly new. Just still as frightening. She wanted to fight back, and had the sick realization she hadn't sparred or trained in too long.

She needed to do something though. And soon. It was hard to think with the pain. The lack of oxygen didn't help either. She moved her feet to get the soles of her shoes gripped on the ground and pushed back, not really sure what to expect.

He could hear her heart speed up, could hear her breath becoming more forced. Small beads of sweat broke through on her forehead. "Helplessness is

not a good feeling, is it?" Suddenly he stood up again and took a step back.

"You want to be a warrior?"

She remained seated on the ground, catching her breath. After a few moments,

she finally answered, yelling it out, "I fucking know helplessness! Whatever

the hell you're trying to prove you don't have to!" With that, she jumped up

and put a hand against the wall to lean on it, still catching her breath.

"Insight 7: Game Over"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck***

Maya looked at Baile. That was unexpected. He sat down on the edge of the table and looked at Nara. His face was as caring as the mouth of a Great White Shark, but still there was something. Sadness? "I spent nearly the entire Dominion War behind the enemy's lines. It was... bad.. The things we did there made the Dominion send squads after us.. I'm not a good person, Nara... I'm downright evil.. There will always be expectations, and in war those will turn you.. You'll find places inside yourself you don't want to see.. "

She looked at him and for a moment felt sorry for him, but then all that went away. "Why are you telling me this? You've made it clear you don't care

and you don't have my sympathy." She walked over and took a drink, but to clear it up, added, "Game over. Just drinks."

Had the blonde woman been able to manifest herself to Nara without risking everything she would have. Maya would have thanked her. The last remnants of

Baile's humanity was eroding, like water wore down stones. He was standing on the edge of an abyss, being pushed further and further towards it. Few people had the skill to actually defeat him in battle. The worst enemy Baile

had ever had was himself and for all of his experiences he was blind to that

fact. Baile would defeat Baile.

The marine didn't know why he had said it. Didn't know why he had cared. Maybe he had felt she had been his last chance at redemption before whatever

was happening to him took him to places he wasn't sure if he'd return from. "Game over.." he said quietly, taking up one of the shot glasses and looked at it, closed his hand until it cracked.

Nara sighed, after the blood rushed back to her head. Her voice still cool, "I know the places inside I don't want to see. I perfected the art of avoidance. I had completely blocked out one memory up until several months ago. I hate feeling helpless and in that moment I was so completely helpless, and when I finally remembered, I ran the scenario in my head countless times and each time thought of a way I could had gotten out of it.

I think that's worse than being actually helpless. Remembering and knowing you weren't as helpless as you had thought." She didn't look at him, even after hearing the muffled sound of breaking glass.

Baile ran a hand through the Mohican haircut. He was a man born in the wrong

age of man. He should have been born a Crusader or footman in the Dark Ages,

with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. A scarred hand closed around the neck of the bottle.

"I'm.." he began, his eyes empty. The blond woman standing a few feet away looked at him with a growing sense of alarm on her face.

Nara set the glass down. She wasn't sure if the unspoken word was sorry or not. Did it matter? "I kinda got to reconcile that by trying my hardest with

the Dithparu. It was like a nightmare. Screaming, but not hearing the sound of it. Wanting to run, but your body won't respond. With Marks, I COULD had fought, but the shock and fear paralyzed me. Made me weak and stupid. I think I'm more angry with myself than him. Weakest, most shameful moment of my life and I plan to keep it that way."

Maya started shaking her head, looking at her warrior, her king of killers. "Don't.. don't say anything." To her dismay her warrior didn't listen, her words not reaching inside, couldn't go past the last remains of humanity.

Seconds passed. The pulse on Baile's neck throbbed visibly. His muscles stiffened, displaying a very fit and deadly killing machine. Maybe it was the desperation and anger in Nara's voice that touched that which had once been Baile, maybe. He didn't know. Alien eyes looked at her, saw things Baile had never seen with his old eyes. Maya's voice was nothing but a distant whisper. She was telling him something, but he couldn't hear what. "I'm.. changing.." he said with a low voice.

Nara was lost in her nightmarish memories and the voice so low, she nearly missed it. A second passed before she turned to look at him, almost startled

by the eyes. She opened her mouth to say something about everyone changes, but she could tell he didn't mean normal, run-of-the-mill changes everyone goes through. "What do you mean?" She put some pieces together of this odd, scary conversation, and added, "Does it have to do what that thing Ioa encountered?"

Maya's features darkened. She should have reacted faster. He had slipped into a place where she couldn't reach him. A very dangerous place. For everyone.

The Terran looked up. It was like he wore all of the monstrous things he had

done like a millstone around his neck. This was his farewell to humanity. Soon something new would arise from the ashes.

He shook his head. A woman only visible to Baile relaxed ever so slightly. Doors opened in his mind, but not even she knew what was waiting behind them. "I can't explain it.." he said with the same low and pained voice. "All I know.. is that I'm no longer.. me..."

She hated to admit it, but suddenly she was very sad for him and wanted to hug him. Hugging a porcupine. Now THAT was stupid. "You win." Was all she could come up with.

Both he and Maya fell silent. He looked at Nara and Maya looked at him. For the first time since her awakening Maya felt worried. What if she wouldn't be able to be there for him? What if he stopped listening? Would anyone be able to reach him then?

"I always win.." he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. There was a sadness and mortality to his voice not heard in a long time. War had only losers, no winners. He drank heavily from the bottle, deep gulps, each burning its way down his throat. A cheap attempt to distract the pain in his

mind.

"Insight 8: Telling Them To Screw Themselves"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialst

***Observation Deck***

After a brief moment seeing Baile in a way not many had seen, and likely never to see again, Nara moved the topic around to something she could handle. She couldn't handle Baile, not when he seemed almost vulnerable. Not

when any attempt at sympathy got you closer to being murderized.

Nara sighed and jumped up to sit on the table, "Well, you like killing things. Maybe if the courts don't do anything to Marks, you kill him for me?" It was a crude joke, but he was with a crude man. She was even half-way

serious because the freshness the memories at the moment.

It stirred inside. Impatient. Passionate for the kill. Hungry to see the world with new eyes. "Dogs of war and men of hate with no cause." he quoted and lowered his head. His cause of fighting had been stripped bare of any illusions a long time ago. Now he saw it for what it was. "You're asking me to kill a man?"

She looked at him and thought. "Well, I said maybe." She leaned over, putting her chin on a fist as she spoke, "Not really. As much as I'd like to

personally, something tells me it's not right." She sat up again, "Stupid conscious." She looked at him again, "Maybe that's it. Maybe you're losing your conscious? That being is taking away any remorse?"

The Galaxy had a sense of humor. And a flair for the cruel. "I've not had a conscious in a long time.." he replied, "only nightmares... " The killing meant nothing to him. The challenge was everything. The thrill of the hunt. The prospect of walking on the edge of the knife. "I'm more than I ever was before.."

Maya looked at him, listening to his words. He was right. He was more than he had ever been. He was hers and she was his. Walk the walk. She knew, deep

inside where words meant nothing. The perfect hunter.

Nara's eyes felt heavy, but she had a few minutes left in her, "Well, you don't seem like a friend type, but how about being my drinking buddy? For the rare times I drink. I would have Bran, but she doesn't seem able to hold

alcohol well. Plus, as far as she's concerned, whether she tells me or not, she thinks I stole Saul. I don't blame her for that." She lost herself in a thought again before turning to him, "Dunno how much more you'll change, but

sometimes getting drunk with someone is therapeutic."

The glow in Baile's eyes started to return. Slowly. Like a bird testing its wings for the first time. "Drinking buddy..." he replied and handed her the near empty bottle. It was strange that he didn't feel the booze more than he

did. "Drinking is for telling the demons in your head to go screw themselves.. Then you step into the ring and don't leave until either you or

the other guy is lying on the floor."

She smiled, "Well, that guy lying on the floor will likely be me every time,

and I'm ok with that. I just ask that you be sure I can wake up the next morning."

She laid a slender hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles ripple underneath her fingers. It was palpable, filling the air around her. The once living woman looked at Nara. Was it pity she felt for the young woman? No, she decided firmly. It wasn't pity. The remnants of Baile's humanity echoed in her as it left him. Grains of sand, washed away by the rain.

The marine looked at Maya, saw the woman he had once loved and.. That was then. He turned to Nara. "What will you do now?"

She pulled her legs up and crossed them on the table, having horrible posture and she bent forward, "About what? Marks? Wait till they decide when

to have the trial. Then just let it go from there. I really don't see why it

won't work out. I've got evidence here." She pointed to her head, "As a telepath, I can show the memory to anyone." She frowned, "But that means I have to relive it."

He caught the glance from Maya. She was warning him. Stifling a chuckle he looked back at Nara. The blond woman walked behind the young Starfleet officer. "Don't Killer.. Don't do it." Trying to command him was out of the question. The only one who could truly order him was hundreds of light-years

away and she was beginning to have some doubts whether that would work in a few months.

"Knowing your co-workers"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo
Terran Intelligence Officer

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath Intelligence Officer

*****

Raynor was tapping his fingers along the desk... looking over his "Intelligence" report... He himself was still trying to give an accurate psychological profile of the remaining Dithparu, that may have escaped Deep Space Five the first time... It was difficult. He was typing it up rather than do the annoying vocal recording, just it allowed him to look over what he was saying and see how that sounded if someone was reading it. That was a problem with recording written reports vocally... you were able to listen to the tone of your voice, but written reports didn't have any tone. So you can't imply things through tone, and you had to spell it out.

Also some of the historical data he was able to get out of the Dithparu would wet historians pants about a hundred years from now. When it considered declassified enough to admit that Raynor existed, with the ability to absorb the memories of the dead. More than enough memories of the same event from almost everyone's point of view that died in an incident. First hand accounts that you couldn't get anywhere else. It sucked because Raynor wanted to summarize, but he knew for the sake of accuracy he couldn't. He was mainly because of this he hadn't really met too many people in his department. Read their files, but not really met.

He stretched... yawning, looking around, before putting his hand over his forehead rubbing it. He needed a break. He looked around again.

"Looking around isn't going to solve the problem," Paulo said. "And I am pretty sure looking for someone to attempt to help you isn't going to help."

"Unless I'm looking for someone to help me break the monotony..." Raynor responded, putting on a tone somewhere in between serious and sarcastic. "I mean normally I'd wait for the music and spontaneous dance numbers... but for some reason those don't seem to be kicking in. Might have something to do with the fact that no around here seems to be in a very random mood," he finished, grinning.

Paulo looked around. "I like it this way," he responded. "And if I started to dance, they would have to burn all the video from it, I am sure."

"Wouldn't do you any good..." Raynor said, thinking about it. "The event would be burned into people's memories. And they wouldn't let you forget it." He laughed, then stuck out his hand. "Zev Raynor."

Paulo held out his hand, "Paulo DiMillo."

After the traditional human shake of greeting, Raynor looked around the room. "So what IS the most exciting thing thats supposed to happen around here?" he asked looking around the room. "Catching someone jerking off by themselves in these offices, or wearing ceremonial Betazed camouflage?" (Often referred on earth as one's 'birthday suit') "I hear if you want blend into a crowd of recently married Betazoids, there's nothing better."

Paulo smirked. This guy sure had something. "Usually we have happy hour Fridays, and if you try just hard enough you usually can get someone to take their shirt off, though, believe me, seeing a Telerite topless is nothing to write home about," Paulo said with a grin.

"But isn't that the entire point of intelligence?" Raynor asked with smirk on his face as well. "Write home about every single pointless even and let a team of analysts that do nothing but sit behind a desk trying to figure out some pattern that will help us predict enemy movements? Or neutral movements... friendly movements... bowel movements..." Raynor let his voice trail off... and he began looking off into space...

Paulo let out a laugh. "Yeah, but I really don't want to know about other people's bowl movements... for that matter I don't want to even know about mine."

"Personally I wouldn't mind but... What are you up to?" Raynor said switching topics so obviously that anyone could spot it, but still it would awkward to try and change it back because of the tone Raynor took in speech, and the gaze he gave people. He patiently waited for an answer.

"Just here picking some things up," Paulo responded. "A case I am working on has just gotten a little bit more movement, so I wan to run a few things through my brain for awhile. You?"

"Chatting... avoiding looking at evil in the eye and farting, jacking off then use that same hand to pat everyone on the back, wondering if we can post pictures of my favorite porn stars on the wall, and of course scraping together every bit of info on the Dithparu I can gather." Raynor answered in a cheerful voice. "In other words a typical work load for me."

"Sounds very uninteresting," Paulo said, "but a lot of our work is uninteresting."

"That's why you have to spice it up a bit from time to time..." Raynor said.

"Good point," Paulo said. "Well, I should go. Need to get these done and get off to another meeting. Nice meeting you."

"See ya around..." Raynor said, watching as the 'eager' young ensign turned leave. He turned back to the lap top, and began to sing loudly and badly some very old late 20th century tune. He could of sung the song well... but he didn't particularly feel of giving the mental effort do so.

off: backpost

"Samantha's New Groove, part two" from the fairy tale chronicles

Samantha Widdlestein
Arel Smith

***

"You got his legs wrong." Arel Smith commented.

The two of them were sitting on a bridge, while across the way on the other, now, broken bridge, the "Emperor" and "Pacha" were dangling a few feet above hungry crocodiles while being attacked by deadly scorpions and huge vampire bats. Fairy tales could be so cruel.

"Yeah?" Samantha asked happily. She looked over to where Pacha, who was being played by Arel's newest boyfriend Cole Slaton, was desperately bicycling his legs in an attempt to move higher.

"Yeah. His thighs are a bit broader and..." Arel started and then seemed to think better of it. "Never mind."

"No, this is fascinating." Samantha said with a mischievous grin. "Do tell. We never had slumber-party girl talk while you were onboard the Galaxy."

"Fuck off, Sam." Arel said and then laughed as the two characters across the way continued to squirm.

"I knew you'd enjoy it." Samantha said smugly.

The security officer rolled her eyes. "It would be nice if you could leave my love life out of your holo programs for once."

The girl thought about it for a moment. "Nah."

Arel shook her head and turned to look as the two figures were attempting to work together to make their way back up to the top.

"Yeah, like that would ever happen." Arel muttered.

"Huh?"

"I said how long do we have to watch the moron twins before you tell me what's wrong?"

The smile abruptly died from Samantha’s face and Arel raised an eyebrow. “That bad, Kid?”

When Samantha didn’t answer, Arel frowned. “You going to tell me about the scar, at least?

“Got my face cut.” Sam said with a shrug.

Arel gave her a look. “I never thought I’d see the day when you couldn’t or wouldn’t leap at a chance to tell me the unabridged version of anything, Samantha.”

Samantha started to open her mouth but Arel beat her to it. “Care to elaborate on how you messed up your face and who’s hand I have to go and hack off because of it.”

The girl fumbled for the words. How did you explain that a possessed half Vulcan had decided to carve you up like a Sunday ham and then, as a follow up, another possessed person had decided to hang you by your thumbs? It sounded like something she might have written, over the top and not terribly believable.

“Can I come to the Miranda?” Sam blurted out instead.

“To live?” Arel asked. “I don’t think your parents would like that. You already had them transferred once and you’re too young to live on your own.”

“I can get emancipated.” Samantha said.

“Why would you want to?”

“It’s just... It’s safer with you!” She explained.

Arel shook her head. “Sam, this year alone I became a Klingon, got put in an alternate reality, and then got blown up. We all got blown up. Trust me, it’s hardly safer onboard the Miranda.”

“Well, how about I feel safer.” Sam said with a scowl and then crossed her arms.

Arel smiled. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Look, you can ask your parents if you can come with me but even onboard the Miranda I'm not going to be able to keep you safe every second of your life. Of course the Miranda's security is better than Galaxy but ... what you feel right now? It will get better, I promise. Besides, you don't need me. You're the one that saved me from the Hirogen, remember?"

Samantha remembered. She had been so scared then but right now she thought she'd rather be in that jungle again.

“Did I ever thank you for that?” Arel asked her suddenly.

“No.” Samantha said. “You very pointedly refused to. It was quite rude actually." A small smile formed on the girl's lips. "You could thank me now though."

Arel seemed to consider it.

“I can show you some moves so you can get out of a grip if someone has a knife at your throat.” Arel said instead with a grin.

Sam would have rolled her eyes, how like Arel to never thank anyone for anything, but she was startled by the fact that the security officer had known what had happened.

“Of course I knew.” Arel said grimly after seeing her shock. “You don’t think your smegging Mummy goes one week without sending me a communication of some kind about how I’ve messed up her darling baby?”

“And yet you're still my friend.” Sam pointed out.

Arel scowled. “Yeah, well, the next time she calls me a wannabe Klingon, I’m going to come back her and rip out her vocal cords, mummy or not. Being an orphan isn't all that hard, Kid, and I'm sure you'll learn to appreciate the quiet.”

Samantha quickly hugged the woman before she could react. Arel made a confused noise but then awkwardly returned the hug. "I've missed you too, Sam."

“I’d like to learn some of those moves.” Samantha said as she pulled back. “But we should watch how the program ends."

“I lose, don’t I?” Arel asked and then shook her head. “Thanks but no thanks. I appreciate the literal version of James the Ass and but losing to both Mitchell and Slaton is damn cold-blooded of you."

Sam shot her a look. "I worked hard on this program. We're finishing it."

"Can't we just say Yzma wins?" Arel asked. "This wholesome happy ending shit is getting a bit old."

"No."

"If *I* were trying to take over the kingdom," She continued. "I would have given the Emperor a noble warrior's death on the spot. Mek'leth through the heart. Since it's Mitchell, though, we can just kick him off the cliff."

"Arel," Samantha said in a warning tone.

"Come on, Kid, I'll race you!" Arel said before jumping up.

"AH-REL!" Samantha shouted after her. "DON'T YOU GO MESSING UP MY PROGRAM!"

Samantha was smiling again though as she ran after her.

"Doomed"

(Backposted. Takes place before "Just Us Crazies")

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter
Vrih Himne

8-ball walked through the corridor, very in the mood to just get back to her quarters to go sleep. The day had been long, the day had been draining, and she was ready to be home.

Unfortunately, she was not ready to run into her boyfriend who she'd been studiously avoiding for the last couple of weeks. She wasn't at all ready to have the "long talk" that was sure to come after she had knocked his ass out and nearly killed him.

So it was really too bad for 8-ball that she turned a corner and nearly smacked into Vrih Himne.

Himne, who was studying his PADD at the time, looked up at 8-Ball with a mixture of surprise and horror. Involuntarily, he took a step back and let out a soft gasp.

“8-Ball...” he said, trailing off. However, he quickly regained his composure, and his surprised look was replaced with an expression of mechanical pleasantness.

“I... am glad you are back to your old self,” he said in an almost robotic tone, before looking down at his PADD.

“Perhaps I’ll see you again sometime,” he muttered, and began to walk away.

Now, it was true that 8-ball had been avoiding Himne herself, so she should have been pleased as punch that Himne didn't want to talk to her. Of course, that would only apply if 8-ball herself was a logical person.

So nevermind to that.

"Hey," 8-ball said loudly as Himne attempted to retreat. "Wait just a damn minute. Where are you going? We haven't talked in. . .well, awhile. Obviously, we've got some stuff to talk about."

“Have we?” Himne sheepishly asked. “I think you made it all quite clear the night you pummelled me into unconsciousness. No conversation necessary – I got the message, loud and clear.” He hastily started to retreat again.

8-ball stared at him. . .well, his back. . .absolutely floored. Could she have given him brain damage when she knocked his ass out? Shaking her head, 8-ball sprinted forwards and jumped in front of him, obstructing his path to a safe getaway.

"You're joking, right?" she asked. "You did HEAR about the whole Dithparu invading, didn't you? I mean, you got the idea that a bunch of psycho aliens invaded us telepaths and tried to take over the ship. I mean," 8-ball faltered, "you know that wasn't me, right?"

“I... guess,” said Himne, faltering. “The entire ship was affected, yet you were the only one to go after a spouse. Others went for the bridge, the captain, the armoury – yet you came after me.”

8-ball opened her mouth to protest, either his use of the word 'spouse'---they weren't, after all, married----or his assumption that Anlaika was like all the other Dithparu, which she radically was not, but Himne went on.

“And,” he continued, trying to make sense of it all. “While I know it wasn’t really you, it kind of was. Why don’t you admit it? A part of you – albeit a very small part – wanted to do what you did to me. I could tell by the look in your eyes.”

"But---"

“I’m not blaming you in any way, 8-Ball, and I’ll always love you, in a way,” Himne finished. “However, I think our relationship had fatal problems from the beginning – the Dithparu incident merely sped its demise. I'm not sure where we can go from here.” He shrugged his shoulders rather pathetically.

8-ball just stared at him. She couldn't decide if she wanted to scream at him or try to explain things to him, calmly. She felt tears forming in her eyes, and decided that she would not be going with the latter.

"You---you---ASSHOLE!" 8-ball screamed at him. "I was STUCK there, being forced to watch myself hurt you, and you. . .you. . .BREAK UP WITH ME!? You'll always love me IN A WAY?! What kind of shit is that? What---you know what? I don't care. I don't want to be with someone who could get beat up by a girl anyway. You---you---I HATE YOU!"

8-ball turned and marched in the opposite direction, trying to keep herself from crying, a task she was failing in miserably. She thought of all the things she could have told him, about how she had been trying to save his life and how scared she was that Anlaika would kill him. She thought about telling him everything that she went through, and that he was an insensitive, chickenshit bastard to imply that she had intentionally caused any of it. 8-ball thought about saying ANYTHING that would be slightly more witty than 'I hate you', and finally decided to tell Vrih that she was sorry, that she loved him.

But by the time she turned around, he was gone.

"What's Up, Doc?"

Major Corran Rex, CAG
Doctor Kimberly Burton, CMO

Sickbay, USS Galaxy, Deck 21

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'I wonder what it is about this ship,' Corran Rex mused as he moved through sickbay, 'That makes it so incapable of keeping a CMO.'

He'd come down now to meet Doctor Burton, the new CMO, and also to make certain that his arrangement with the previous CMOs regarding Medical Lab 12 was still in place. Not to mention the fact that the Doc's service record showed her to be pretty attractive, and well... the Trill pilot was never one to pass up the chance to meet a pretty face.

He came to the open-doored office that sat at the back of sickbay, and rapped lightly on the doorframe, drawing the Doctor's attention away from her screen. "Hey, Doc?"

Looking up from her computer Kimberly had to appreciate the intrusion, there was a certain glamour to holding a senior staff position on such a high profile ship as the Galaxy, but everyone forgot the inevitable paperwork that went with it, crew evaluations, evaluations of the evaluations, training schedules, duty rotas, updates, medical and counselling, interdepartmental training, meetings, and so on and so forth, it seemed never ending.

Sliding aside her computer Kimberly smiled, "Hello," she greeted her visitor pleasantly as she racked her brain for a name, Trill male, white uniform, a Major, narrows the field she realised, "Major... Rex?" she asked a little hesitantly, the senior staff files fortunately being some of the few she had read thoroughly so far.

"Got it in one." he smiled. "Mind if I come in? This doorway's on the drafty side." the Trill joked, showing a wide smile.

"Pleased to meet you, won't you have a seat," she offered, "how can I help you?" she asked.

"Wanted to introduce myself first." he replied, settling into the chair. "And now that's done - I also needed to change the reservations for Medical Lab 13. I won't be needed it anymore."

"Well it's nice to meet you Major," Kimberly replied pleasantly, "Lab thirteen?" she asked.

"I am - was - a Doctor before. A few times, really." he admitted. "I was using the lab to further study T'Rex's Syndrome."

Running the comment through her brain she tried to recall details of the syndrome, but came up blank other than a reference in the Majors file, making a note to look it up later she raised an eyebrow, "'Were' using the lab? Are you taking the research somewhere else?" she enquired.

"No... I just won't be doing any more research. I also need my medical file appended to note that I'm no longer suffering from that particular... syndrome." Something about the way he said that last word was just... odd.

"If you've discovered a treatment Major, I'd be interested in looking over your work," Kimberly asked, "or has the syndrome lapsed into remission?" she enquired curiously.

"Not a cure, Doctor," he replied honestly. "But thanks to recent events with the Dithparu, I've discovered something... else."

Sat there watching Rex Kimberly considered briefly his posture and hesitation, "something else?" she asked softly.

He wrestled with the notion for a moment, before deciding to fill Burton in. He might have been a Doctor, true, but it was a good idea to have the help of someone who was a little more current than he was. "I need your promise that this information doesn't leave this room, Doctor Burton."

"As your Doctor there is Doctor patient confidentiality Major, whatever you want to discuss stays between us," she assured him.

"Because it's something that's going to have enormous ramifications for my people when - if - it ever gets out." he said darkly.

Raising an eyebrow she wondered briefly what could be so dangerous to a whole people, "please continue Major."

"The mistake was mine when I did the first major research on the syndrome, more than a century ago. I had classified it as a degenerative nerve disease. I think that the whole reason my past host, Doctor Esanza Rex, devoted her lifetime to the curing of it is because, on some subconscious level, my symbiont knew we would eventually contract it."

"So Rex knew that he would contract this disease?" Kimberly asked, wondering just how that was, but before she could ask Rex continued.

"It's not a disease at all, Doctor. It was the physical manifestation of a decaying memory block placed in Rex's mind by the Trill Symbiosis Commission."

~ Oh! ~ Kimberly thought, "A Memory block?" she asked, "in what way."

"It's a chemical based block that's reinforced by strong telepathic post-hypnotic suggestion." the Trill replied. "It's quite possible that, because of the Dithparu, I may be the only Trill to ever stumble upon the syndrome's true nature."

"I'm assuming the block is in Rex, the symbiont, not Corran the host," she asked.

"Correct."

"Have you any idea why it was placed there? Or if the commission knows the block is decaying?" Kimberly asked curiously.

"Some." Corran admitted. "That's where things are still a bit... fuzzy. Rex went through a horrible trauma about eight centuries ago. That was the first time I encountered those... things. After almost three hundred years in the pools, the Guardians put the memory block in me to let my mind heal itself." The pilot's tone indicated that there was likely more as well.

"When you say those 'things' I assume you mean the, Dithparu... is there more?"

"I don't really know, Doctor." he snapped angrily. "When you've got sixteen hundred years worth of new memories to sort through, please, let me know how it goes for you."

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly automatically withheld a response at his hostility, realising he probably needed to vent a little anger at someone.

"I'm sorry." he apologized immediately. "It's just.."

"Confusing?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes. very much so."

"Well, if the memory block was chemically based, have you checked that it has dissipated completely? If the Dithparu have released the block, they may have just affected the telepathic reinforcement, would you like some help to see if there's any residual chemical markers?" Kimberly offered softly.

"None that I've been able to find so far." he admitted. "It's possible that some of my brain chemistry is in.. flux at the moment, however. Trills have different neurochemsitry than most species do."

"Major, if this goes back as far as you say then there's been a conspiracy on your planet for several centuries to withhold information that could have potentially saved a lot of lives, plus, if I'm recalling what I know of T'Rex's Syndrome correctly, they're intentionally damaging minds to keep their secrets. Correct?"

"That's what it seems like." Corran confirmed, his expression shaded.

"What do you want to do?" she asked simply.

"I figure that one out, Doc.." he said, "I'll be sure to let you know."

"All Part of the Service"

Captain Cassius Henderson
Commander Kol
Major Corran Rex

----------------------
Ready Room,
USS Galaxy
Deck One
----------------------

Kol and Corran stood side-by-side outside of the Captain's Ready Room, one of the most visible signs of office aboard a starship other than the command seat. The Trill pilot - no slouch in the height department himself - look tiny in comparison next to the Klingon commander.

When Henderson called for them to enter, Kol naturally went first. Corran wasn't surprised to discover that Captain M'Kantu's things were still set up in the ready room, just as he'd left them. As far as this crew as concerned, this was still M'Kantu's ship.

But then, a lot of people still thought of it as Price's ship, too.

Captain Cassius Henderson stood up behind his desk, though even at his full height he was clearly shorter than both of the men who entered the room. Of course, even if they'd been shorter, he would still find the room awkward and the space hard to command. He'd left everything exactly as Captain M'Kantu had left it (more or less where he would have put it anyway - thankfully) and had only replaced the niceties that the older man had taken to Deep Space Five.

At least the crew of the Galaxy was adjusting, more or less, to considering him to be their commanding officer. He knew that privately they were all waiting for M'Kantu to return, but that relieved - he shared their hope. But for now, better or for worse, he was in command, and he had to act like it.

As the two men entered the room, Cass met their eyes. Corran first, then Kol. He let his gaze stay there, expectant. "Commander Kol, Major Rex," he nodded, then waited for the Klingon to present his orders.

Kol stood stiffly in front of his new Captain, beating his hand against his chest in the formal Klingon salute. He didn't care for humans much - they were a weak, inferior species who had only seen themselves through history by blind luck. Still, he was pledged to the service of Starfleet, and according to that, Henderson was now his superior. Therefore he would treat him like one.

"Commander Kol, son of Korvath, grandson of Kor; the Da'har master, reporting for duty as first officer of USS Galaxy." he said formally in his deep base, holding the salute still.

"Duly noted. Welcome aboard, Commander Kol, son of Korvath, grandson of Kor; the Da'har master," Cass replied, with all due seriousness. Klingons took their ancestry more seriously than most other cultures - and to not respect that would be a potentially fatal mistake for all but he most powerful of beings. Cass would have been lying to say that he wasn't - at least a little bit - intimidated by the other man. He was enormous, even for a Klingon, and seemed even more the stereotypical Klingon than most of the ones Cass had met. "I trust you've been informed that your stay here will most likely be temporary."

Kor gave a respectful nod in return. "I understand that in Starfleet, many ships are run differently. What duties are expected of me?"

"As executive officer, you will be serve as the liaison between the me and the crew. You will be expected to settle any disputes between crewmembers, and to enforce discipline," Cass explained, though he was certain that it wasn't far from what Kor's duties on the Arizona entailed. "In the event that I am absent or indisposed for any reason, you will command the Galaxy in my stead. You will serve as my devil's advocate in any planning sessions of the command or senior staff. In short, your job is to keep this ship running smoothly."

"Then I will endeavor to fulfill my duties honorably." Kol replied.

"And I have been advised" this he said with a sidelong glance at the Trill Major, who was leaning with arms folded against the fish tank, "to inform you that I will make no attempts to secure command of this vessel by assassinating you. I am.. aware that such forms of advancement are not permitted on Federation vessels."

"I appreciate that, Commander, and will take it under the assumption that it applies to rest of my crew as well," Cass nodded to Corran. That was an assurance that he was happy to have. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

"Yes." the Klingon replied, and then decided it would be better to elucidate. "What is our current assignment?"

"We're currently making ready to depart for Atlantis Sector, where we will temporarily be attached to Starbase Atlantis, as part of the survey of that sector," Cass replied. He wasn't pleased with the assignment, since it took the ship out of it's assigned operation zone - which made it hard for him to perform his duties as Strategic Operations Officer or Handler for Hydran Sector. He was still working on handing off those duties while he was in command. "I'm told we'll receive more information about our assignment when we arrive."

The Klingon frowned, having the odd effect of drawing his ridges tighter across his bald head. "That is very vague." he commented simply.

"Yes, and I'm as frustrated by it as you are," Cass nodded. It was vague - and out of the ordinary. "Command will have to make itself clear soon, though."

Again, Kol simply acknowledged with a nod. "If there is nothing else, Captain?"

"I fully expect a report on my desk at 0800 tomorrow morning of an evaluation of ship procedures and efficiency reports of the crew. Assign drills, simulations, whatever you need. We're going to be in warp for quite some time," Cass said. This was the real selling point of bringing the Klingon XO onboard, he thought as he echoed M'Kantu's words to him over two years previous. Since then, the Galaxy's efficiency ratings had gone up, but Cass was sure that a fresh perspective would find things that he had missed. "Given that, there's plenty of time to increase efficiency and productivity. Being in neutral territory without an extensive Federation support network will provide a unique opportunity."

"Then you will have it. " The Klingon offered his final salute to his new commander turned to depart the ready room, stopping for a moment to look at Corran. His expression indicated he wanted to know whether or not the pilot was coming with him.

"Oh, no." Corran replied, shaking his head. "I've got to talk to Ca - the Captain. I'll meet you in ten-forward later."

"Very well." Kol replied, and left the ready room.

After the Klingon had departed, Corran raised an eyebrow at his friend. "So?" he asked.

"He'll do, provided that my crew has all of it's limbs at the end of the day," Cass replied, leaning forward on his desk. "It'll be a shock to some, I'm sure - but since it's only temporary, I think we'll see more benefits than burdens."

"I think most of them will." Corran admitted. "Though he's already threatened to behead the bridge crew. You never saw so many Ensigns snap to so quickly." the Trill chuckled.

He look of concern decorated his features for a moment, though. "I probably need to make sure he understands that Ensign Khatrowen really isn't a snack, though..."

Cassius grinned, "Which is exactly why I let you talk me into having him come aboard. And yes, you should."

"I'll go do that then."

"Thank you, Corran," the new commanding officer nodded, before sitting back down at M'Kantu's desk. There was a lot more that had to be done before departure.

"All part of the service." Corran replied easily, tossing off a casual salute as he turned and headed for the Ready Room doors. As they opened, the sound of Commander Kol's basso tones could be easily heard, rather creatively threatening the continued anatomic functions of at least one Ensign on the bridge.

"One For The Road"

Major Corran Rex
Commanding Officer
SFSC Vanguard Squadron

First Lieutenant T'Shani Akledorian
Commanding Officer (Relieved)
SFMC Furies Detachment

----------------
"Crashdown Bar"
Deep Space 5
----------------

It was impressive really, that it had taken so little time for life to return to normal on Deep Space Five. Not that long ago, the bulkheads had been decorated with the blood and internal organs of much of the station's crew, with a lot of major equipment wrecked.

But now, four months later, the station was a fully operational bustling-hive once again. The lights were on, and the rocks were back in everyone's scotch. People went about their jobs, blissfully unaware of the horrors that had happened here.

Corran took a strange sort of comfort in that. It showed Trills weren't the only ones who were creative about forgetting their pasts.

He was flying solo tonight, here in the Crashdown Bar, one of the many recreational stops the starbase offered. This particular place tended to be a hangout for the more militaristic members of Starfleet - specifically the Marines and the starfighter pilots. Cass had decided to stay in with Ekoma, Ella was still steadfastly playing the role of the sexually frustrated virgin princess, and Jen had hooked up with an old friend from Rogue Squadron, stationed on the Miranda, who was in dock too. Even Pad and Kettch had prior plans tonight.

And he damn sure wasn't going into a bar with Kol. He liked his life, thanks.

Therefore, with an appropriately strong drink in hand, he was now looking around the bar for something - or someone - entertaining. Though prowling might have been a better term.

And then, across the bar, he saw her.

Tish.

With all he'd been through these last four months, coming to terms with his still-confusing memories, he hadn't seen Tish more than briefly.

She didn't look good, to say the least.

After all that had happened in the past four months, T'Shani Akledorian had come to the conclusion that she needed to get (a.) laid, and (b.) drunk.

Since the former was possible, yet improbable, she had decided to imbibe heavily on the latter. Luckily, Starbase Atlantis' Crashdown Bar had plenty of the "real" stuff. After two Warp Core Breaches followed by a Seldan Supernova, Tish was, well, *crashed*.

"Room for a friend in that bottle?" he asked, sidling up beside her. "Or do I need to get my own?"

Antennas slung low and slightly limp over her forehead, Tish groggily turned to the familiar, yet strangely distant voice that had magically presented itself to her right. She reeled back on her barstool for a moment, trying to focus the face that whose lips were moving, albeit slightly out of sync, with the words spoken.

As thought finally pushed past alcohol (more or less), the Marine shen smiled, then waved absently to the air next to her, bumping her visitor on the shoulder in the process. "Sit down, shpotty," she slurred slightly.

"Y'know," he said, taking the indicated stool - and using one hand to steady Tish on her own - "Some people would call that nickname specist."

"Oh, hush, Rexy. Just sit down and get drunk with me, don't lecture," she waved her antennas around wildly while gesturing across the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention again.

"Never argue with a lady." the CAG replied, and instructed the bartender to bring two more drinks, downing his first one. "Word is you're shipping out. That why you're on a bender?"

Tish sighed theatrically while dunking her thumb absently in her bright orange drink. Lifting the alcohol-soaked flange to her mouth, she began to suck on it, all the while watching Rex closely. Damn, he was so cute. Especially the spots. She had been such an idiot that night... in the shower. She mentally shuddered and quickly brushed the thought away.

She tried to point both antennas directly at him, but failed, one drooping much lower than the other. "You heard, huh?"

"Hey," he replied with an easy, roguish smile. "It's me. I hear everything."

Tish took a quick gulp of her Supernova, then made a display of looking at the side of Corran's head. "Really?" she squeaked, making a show of studying his ears. "I didn't know you were part Xanthe!"

"So.." he trailed awkwardly. "The Miranda. Well, she's a good ship. You'll do fine there, I'm sure."

"That's the plan."

Corran gave a low chuckle. He gave her a critical eye, though, and her.. inebriated state concerned him. Sometimes people got drunk for fun, sometimes for other reasons.

He had a hunch that, right now, Tish's reasons were firmly in the camp of "other".

"Haven't seen you much, these last few months." he observed. "Being that we've been in dock, getting this station back on it's feet and doing border patrols, that's quite a trick."

Tish lowered her gaze back to the bar, and studied the remnants of the orange drink in her glass. "Well, I'm part Chameloid, you know. When I don't want to be seen..." she drifted off. She didn't want to have to explain to him the whole reason why she had been so scarce lately, and the underlying reason for her transfer. To talk of nightmares and psychic voices seemed like a child's bad dream; foolish to her.

"Sure you are," he replied in a tone that indicated he wasn't convinced at all. Reaching into his the pocket of his flight suit, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes. In lesser developed cultures, they were a carcinogen - in those cultures that hadn't figured out the genetic manipulation of tobacco yet, at least. These days, they were an affectation that was particularly popular amongst fighter pilots, Marines, and enlisted crews.

Taking the igniter out of his pocket, the Trill smoothly lit it, and then offered the pack wordlessly to Tish.

There was something intimate about the way he slid the foil-wrapped cigarettes across the bartop. Carefully, she reached out her hand to grasp the oferred box, but missed. Instead, she found herself grasping the top of Corran's hand. Surprised, she began to pull her long fingers from atop his thick hands, but she stopped. Like a little kid in her drunken state, she couldn't help but be amazed at the smooth but worn texture and the warmth of his flesh, the way all the little spots marched down the side of his wrist to his finger... she absently drew little circles over the back of his hand with the tip of her forefinger.

Realizing what she was now doing, she quickly pulled her finger away, then looked away, embarrassed. Returning her gaze to the mirror attached at the back of the bar, she spoke to his reflection, "I didn't know you smoked, Spots."

"Didn't used to." he replied. It was yet another hobby he'd picked up from his "new" hosts. Right now he was more interested in the smooth touch of Tish's blue hands on his skin. "And don't move your hand on my account." he said simply enough, keeping the invitation out there.

He'd been harsh with her, months ago, after their initial fling. He knew he'd had all the subtlety of a brick wall when he'd... well, rejected her. As harsh as the word was, it was more or less accurate. Corran still felt a bit guilty about that.

Emotions and memories played at the front of her mind, coupled with the *vibe* she was picking up off of Corran. Or maybe it was the Rex symbiote. No, no... definitely Corran. She could sense how concerned he was for her.

~Rhooz!~ she swore in her mind, unaware that her hand slapped the bar counter loudly. The thoughts and feeling she had been trying to rid herself of for the past few month--of Cassius, of Rex, even--came bubbling to the top, ready to explode.

Setting her antennas straight, she tried to stand. "Don't, C'rrrn," she slurred, starting to tip over as her drunken equilibrium tried to catch up to her body's movements. "I'm just a dumb *footha* bitch, okay!" she said, a little louder than intended.

Antennas flailing wildly as she again almost lost her balance, she tried to turn to leave, run away... run away from having to be forced to confront her feelings for him again; run away from having them crushed, once again. Just, run away.

Corran's arm launched out, his hand firmly settling itself on her forearm. "Tish, sit." he said quietly. "Stop running."

Although T'Shani was twice as strong as the Trill Major, she didn't resist. Numbly, she let him guide her back to her seat, unsure of what to say or do. Once again, she had made a Teegh's ass out of herself in front of someone she had feelings for.

But what could she tell him? Certainly not about what the Nerruvim had revealed to both her and Cassius, concerning their possible future. *Certainly* not about how she felt about Corran, himself; that she saw him as much more than just a friend and mentor. And *certainly* not that she couldn't make heads or tails of her own feelings.

Instead, she just sat there, staring at her reflection in the bar mirror. As if seeing an old friend after a years apart, she studied the face, they eyes, the overslung antennas. Was that really... *her*?

Turning her head to face Corran, she studied his strong face again, and the compassion and caring he held in those soft, yet understanding eyes. Somewhere behind those deep wells of gentle brown.

His eyes met hers, and he knew his own feelings were shining just as clear. In that moment, everything and nothing was said between them. Everything they thought, everything that would never be. Both understood each other then. The eyes are the windows to the soul, they say, and at the moment Corran and Tish were both getting a clear view.

Without thought or anticipation, she leaned over and kissed him, firmly, yet gently. First on the cheek, then on his lips. She knew that she must reek of alcohol, but didn't care. This would most likely be the last night she would see Corran Rex.

He returned the kiss with equal need, and drew back to meet Tish's wondering stare. "What do you say?" he asked. "One for the road?"

Tish gave a wide smile, for the first time in awhile. "Let's blow this joint." she replied.

"Four Months After..."

2nd. Lieutenant Branwen London
Marine Psychologist

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

It had to happen someday. In fact it was a miracle it hadn't happened before. For over four months now, Branwen had been successful in not running into Saul. today standing there was a plateful of food, facing him directly, that luck had definitely run out. And she was not even that surprised that it still hurt to see him.

"Lieutenant." She said in a cold tone of voice and tried to walk away.

Saul looked behind his shoulder, to see which Lieutenant did Branwen address. She almost slipped away when he realized that she was greeting him.

"Shalom Branwen.", Saul greeted back, turning on his heels to follow her. "I haven't seen you in a while... how are you doing?"

"How do you think I am doing?" She snapped at him. Branwen didn't even understand herself where all the anger suddenly came from. "And I cannot even be angry at the other woman. She is my friend, my roommate, and she had you first." "So you chose to be angry with me. It's easier, right?", Saul retorted with equal, unexplained anger. "Bran, I honestly planned on letting the two fo you go when I came to tell her about it. If you're pissed that I mislead you, know that I mislead myself as well. Otherwise..."

"Why did you come unto me in the first place, I trusted you! I wanted you to be my first, and we nearly did while you loved somebody else." She was exhausted and she was close to tears. "I love you, you stupid bastard."

Saul looked around with distress. There were other people. And he was watched closer than most, being a senior officer. Also, Branwen wasn't exactly quiet and discrete.

Judging from the look of the blue-collared Bolian next to him, The USS Rumor Mill just got some more fuel for its engines.

"Bran.", Saul said calmly, "How about we take this somewhere a little more... quiet?"

"Yeah… yeah sure." Bran said getting a little embarrassed herself.

Once they they and their food trays were beyond anyone's earshot, Saul spoke once more.

"If I recall correctly, the last time we spoke of this, you practically tried to convince me to go with Naranda, with the exact same argument. Bran, you're..."

What was he going to say? That if not for Nara, they'd probably be together? And if not for his indeed foolish assumption, that both women will eventually get their senses back and leave him, that he can leave the three of them hanging in the air?

Bran's anger was justified. But not for her reasons, but for his.

"You're one of the most stunning women on this ship.", He found himself saying. "Both in appearance and... inside. You can just go and... pick someone, who isn't stupid or a bastard."

She still had tears in her eyes. "I know what I said last time. And of course you should be with Nara. She had you first. But you should have told me… you should not have led me on. I will never trust another man ever. I don't need a man. I can live happily with just friends."

"You shouldn't trust them, either."

"Excuse me? I'm talking about my friends, not backstabbing lovers." She hissed.

"Trusting someone is foolish, Bran. Anyone. It's all a matter of risk versus gain. You can only choose to... 'rely' on the people who are least likely to disappoint you, but you should never trust anyone blindly."

"What a cynical bastard you are. Friendship is something beautiful, and I will never give up on my friends." She said with determination.

"I'm not asking you to give up on anyone, Bran.", Saul said, frustration going. "Just choose wisely, and know that you can be disappointed. You know, I told Nara herself that she'll never be able to trust me fully, but she decided to take the risk. I still don't know why. That's part of why I was hesitant to get close to you, Bran. Because I knew that I could hurt you more."

"You mean you are going to try this with more women?" She didn't realise that even in this quiet corner her voice was rising again. "She doesn't deserve that. What's happening to you, you are a knight in shining armour. How can you change like this?"

Saul rolled his eyes. "No. I'm not going to try this with more women. Believe it or not, I'm not THAT kind of guy...but I'm not the classic knight from the books either. And that's what I tried to tell you all the time."

A Saulish grin surfaced. "Think of me as a good-hearted thief. That's closer to the truth."

That's when she lost her temper, and slapped him. "Not funny. Because I trusted you, and I love you." Next she burst out in tears.

Saul's cheek burnt. Branwen's arm may seemed slender and feminine, but it packed the power of a marine. He recoiled slightly, then rubbed the side of his face.

It'll leave a mark.

He considered hugging her, but knew that it would only make things worse.

"Nothing of what I said was supposed to be funny, this time.", He told her sternly, arm folded. "All I want to say is this : The next time it happens - and it's not the last time a friend or a lover will betray your trust, have no mistake - don't be so surprised. Because the next time, it might not be someone who actually cares about you do way I do."

"There won't be a next time, you bastard. I have given up on relationships. And don't say you care about me, not after what you had me nearly do."

"I wasn't talking about 'relationships' alone.", Saul insisted. "I'm also talking about people you work with, fight side-to-side with, even friends. And if I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be here trying to explain you exactly this, nor would I worry about what you do the next time."

Angrily she wiped the tears away. "And become a monster like you? Not trusting anyone, using everyone instead? No thank you, sir. I don't think so."

"I didn't tell you to use people. Just be careful."

It was pretty hopeless, Saul realized. No matter what he says, Bran will repeat her mistakes, and next time it really won't be with someone who loves her and who betrayed her trust simply because he ran out of choices.

"I will not turn into somebody like you. And if you hurt Nara, I will come and find you.". It hurt so badly because after four months she still had feelings for him. Branwen didn't think she could ever forget that moment when he had come to save her as a knight in shining armour. Just like in the fairytales. "And I am not naive!"

Saul didn't know if to feel irritated, sad or amused. Irony virtually dripped from every word that came out of Bran's mouth, and she failed to notice.

"What do you want me to say?", He simply asked.

"nothing. There was a reason I was avoiding you. I cannot change the situation, and it hurts so bloody much to see you, because I still love you." She was choking up again.

"You love a knight in shiny armor. I told you, I'm not that knight. I would do my best to make a thirteen years old girl happy on a sad christmas eve if one ever comes down my way again, but I'm not a knight. I'm sure that there are dozens of dashing, young officers on the Galaxy more suitable for the role."

"haven't found him yet." She said very softly.

"You will.". He would've added 'Trust me', but that would go against everything else he said so far, wouldn't it?

"Like they are lined up outside my door in droves. Nobody wants a skinny kid with a funny accent. And nobody wants a marine shrink as a girlfriend. Face it, Saul. It's okay, like I said. I have friends, it's enough for me. I don't miss it, not having a boyfriend ever."

"There is always a demand for nice, smart and good-looking girls. Heck, I'd introdouce you to my best friend Miramon, if I didn't know that I'd be jealous if you two hit it."

"I know him" She said softly. "And like all males he has never shown interest."

"'cause he's shy!", Saul protested.

"...I am not good-looking, Saul. Face it."

"Can you keep a secret?", Saul asked.

"Sure. That is my job." She said.

"You are VERY beautiful, Branwen. Don't tell Nara I said that... If you don't believe me, go back to ten forward and ask a couple of, umm 'navy guys' back at ten forward. Don't be surprised if at least one of them will ask you out. It could be a nice... sociological experiment, wouldn't you agree?"

Branwen blushed profusely again. "Don't make jokes about it, Saul. It's not funny."

"How else am I supposed to make you feel better?", Saul inquired, a helpless expression on his face.

"You can't." She whispered.

"Will it help to know that I never meant to hurt anyone, especially not you? Besides making you look at it in proportion by making jokes, that's the only thing I can offer..."

"I almost believe you, Saul. But why did you lead me on? You could have told me straight away you were not interested that you had a girlfdriend."

"It's because fell for you both. No hidden motive or explanation this time. It was a stupid thing to do, and the two women I care for most on the Galaxy ended up hurt. For that, I'm sorry. And I didn't have a girlfriend when we... started. You know Nara, she did her best to hide her feelings."

"yeah." Finally Bran began to thaw a little. "Maybe I am too hard on you. It's such an awkward situation."

"Just don't give up on us men just because of one bastard.", Saul smiled faintly. "Anyway, your meal is running cold..."

"I don't think I am really hungry." She managed a little smile for him.

"Me neither.", Saul said. "No worries. I'm glad with finally spoke. It was worth skipping lunch."

"Yes." Her feelings towards him were still difficult. But she was also glad they could now at least be civil to one another. Although Branwen still hoped not to see too much of him, it was still pretty painful.

Branwen had no way of knowing, of course, that her words and her tears still echoed in Saul's mind, even hours after the two parted ways. If the memory of why he had a dillema between Nara and Bran became blurred over the last few months, it now returned with sharp, bright colors.

Saul couldn't help but wonder if he preferred Nara over Bran, because he knew that Bran would attach herself to him emotionally more than Nara could. It was harder to take dire risks such as the one he was planning to take, knowing that a nice Welsh girl is going to cry herself to dehydration if you die.

"It's All About the Respect"

By

Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

With a couple of NPC's and unauthorized PC uses

***

Deep Space 5
Liaison Offices

Though the offices were in a mite of disarray, it was business as usual, especially with the ramp-up and projected arrival of several high-ranking representatives of the Judge Advocate General and Starfleet Security offices arriving shortly for inspection and investigation into the events that had transpired here several months previous.

The data from logs and sensors were still being sorted out by the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, but it was becoming more and more apparent that there had been some possible escapes from the station by the Dithparu. At least four shuttles had been unaccounted for. Though, their debris may be scattered to the cosmos from pulse cannons or Hellbores for all anyone knew. The graveyard had been mostly cleaned up outside the station, but it would be some time before the SCE were able to survey the area with more intensive molecular identification equipment.

Curran had been called to the station offices earlier in the day to fill out a deposition on his experiences during the crisis.

He'd been isolated in a rear cubicle for the better part of three hours when he was approached by an aide.

"Sir, your presence is requested in the Legate's office." Curran didn't look up from his inscribing.

"I will meet her in fifteen minutes. I've almost completed my statement."

"Immediately, sir."

The Kelvan set his stylus down, turning in the seat to stare down the aide. Noticing the single frond on the woman's shoulder, he clasped his hands in front of him.

"Is this your first posting, Attaché?"

"No. I spent seven months at the Judge Advocate General's offices on Earth." She stepped to the side to allow him movement in accompanying her.

"Then you should be aware of procedure. This statement needs to be completed before I begin my interview with your station protocol officer."

"I am well aware of that fact, sir, but I am also cognizant of respect to the command structure. *MY* command structure." Before Curran could interject, she raised a hand. "With all due respect, Vice-Legate, this is my station you are on, not the Galaxy. Do not presume to believe otherwise. Now, come with me."

The Kelvan was taken aback at the audacity of the junior officer, but nodded. He would take up her lack of disrespect with her senior officer on site.

Turning back to his cubicle, he slipped the stylus back into the padd sleeve and, standing up, slid it into a belt clip he carried. She immediately turned her back on him and marched off, fully expecting his compliance. Begrudgingly, and curious where this was headed, he followed.

****

He hadn't expected what he found in the Chief Liaison Officer's offices.

"Envoy Zimia. I was not aware you were on the station." Kylar dipped his head slightly in respect.

"I arrived earlier today. You could say I was... in the area." The aide that called Curran took up a position behind the Bolian diplomat, who herself remained seated. He gave the aide a cursory glance.

"Yes, it was me that called you here, Vice-Legate. Do not take issue with Callie. She was acting on my interests. I'm sure you can understand that, can't you?" The emphasis the underlying tones suggested that the matter was closed.

"Yes, ma'am. What is it you need of me?"

"Your deposition first." She extended a dark blue hand. The Kelvan reached around to unclip the unit from his waist, and handed it over. Zimia held his gaze for a few seconds longer, to gauge his reaction. He didn't falter as he immediately brought his hands back to a clasp in the small of his back. He bored a gaze into the wall just above and to the right of the Envoy.

"You were the one who saved the Admiral's life, were you not?" She switched on the Padd's display and began scanning through Curran's statement.

"No. The ship's Emergency Medical Hologram performed as programmed. I did nothing."

"Modesty doesn't suit you, Vice-Legate." When Curran did not respond, she continued on without pause. "Admiral Proctor is not the most ideal candidate for endearing respect amongst the average being."

"I'm not an average being, Envoy, no disrespect intended."

"No, Mr. Curran, that you are not." She clicked off the display and handed it back to 'Callie', who in turn made it disappear into her tunic.

"My assignment here is actually two-fold. Not only am I preparing the Liaison personnel here for their undoubtedly difficult assignment under the current command structure, but I am also to bear witness to an investigation into Captain M'Kantu's actions at Mirusa VI and the incident here with the Dithparu. He has been relieved of command of the Galaxy while the hearings are underway."

Kylar's eyes broke their gaze from the wall, rupturing his normally stoic exterior. "Who is in command of the Galaxy?" Silently, he hoped it would not be Proctor.

"Cassius Henderson. Field promoted to Captain." She steepled azure fingers above her left knee. "The Admiral had to cede, as her optimal choice is still under observation and awaiting a transfer."

Commander Sheridan had been Proctor's XO for Deep Space 5, but since he was the one who had tried to kill her - actually, the Dithparu, but she saw his telepathy as a weakness now - she no longer trusted his loyalties.

"Then I shall stay and lend support to the investigation in any way I can, Envoy."

"No, Vice-Legate. You will complete your statement from the Galaxy, and leave the system for Starbase Atlantis with the ship. It is due for a barium sweep, and would have been accommodated here, but other priorities took place obviously. You'll need to assist Captain Henderson in his transition, as well as brief his Executive Officer when he or she has been selected. We do not need anything else from you while you are on station. Callie here will tend to the Admiral's needs."

Cautiously, Curran nodded once in acknowledgment. If he were capable, he'd feel pity for the aide. Though, if her nature with the Admiral was as it was with him, then he need not be concerned in the slightest. The Corps' work would be done efficiently and without interference. That was all that mattered.

"And is the Admiral also under investigation?"

"No, Vice-Legate, she is not. She initiated it."

"She should be. Her actions came perilously close to escalating us into a war with the Hydrans before we were prepared for it. She is not fit to command a station of this importance out here on the border."

"Of which you will keep to yourself. It is Captain M'Kantu's competence under scrutiny here, not hers. I'm sure Starfleet had their reasons for sending her out here, and it isn't for us to question them. We're Federation representatives, nothing else. Is that clear?"

Curran clenched his jaw. "Yes, Envoy. Perfectly."

"Excellent. You are dismissed."

*****

Less than 20 minutes after his impromptu meeting with the Liaison Corps representative for the Beta Quadrant, Kylar Curran was clamoring with other crewmembers to board the Galaxy on Docking Port 12-B. Marines decked out from head to toe in riot gear blocked the entrance as they scanned each individual thoroughly before moving through the airlock to the ship.

Earlier, one civilian had been found to be carrying illegal contraband, the smuggler in turn was then both carted off complaining and dribbling excuses. Others were taken into custody for various other infractions. Curran supposed in all the confusion of people and equipment moving back and forth on and off the station, there would those taking advantage of the moment to escape into an untraceable future.

When it was his turn, he was scanned, printed, retina'd, and molecular scanned. It irritated him to no end, but it was a price he had to pay to avoid use of the transporters.

The combination of his Kelvan and Terran DNA complicated his matter stream in more ways than can be imagined. Each time he was recomposed from a pattern buffer, it always built his pattern from the human molecular basis first, further breaking down the resistance of his Kelvan DNA to change. This in turn, upon re-materialization on a transporter pad, caused him to enter into fits of uncontrollable nausea. It was wholly embarrassing, so he avoided it at all costs.

Now, he entered the throng of people going about their destinations. Another annoyance. He intensely disliked crowds. People always touching, sights and sounds, let alone smells were overpowering with the ventilation systems working hard to disarm the odors. Still, it could do nothing about the rubbing. One never knew what body part was brushing so vigorously up against you.

When he broke free of the masses and into a far-off turbolift that few people were using based on its distance, he coughed violently, so hard it almost sent him into a bout of hyperventilation.

With casual nostalgia, when he had finally caught his breath, he realized this was the lift that he'd been in when he came into contact with the Ktarian and Krieghoff's woman. There was a dent in the plating at the median between floor and wall where the Vulcan's head had impacted. Also, the clasp on the escape hatch above him was still broken.

The lift took a rather roundabout route to his quarters on Deck 17. He had entered through a docking port on Deck 25, was shunted through to Deck 32, up through the nacelle to the crew lounge located there, across and down to Deck 33 for a few engineers, up to Deck 15 for a scientist, Deck 16 to drop off a rotating Marine off-shift, then finally his own deck.

As soon as he reached his quarters, he was a ruffled mess. It was only compounded by the fact his quarters were locked off for maintenance scheduled later that shift. Apparently there was only a pair of forcefields keeping his office from being exposed to a plasma conduit and open space. Operations had assigned him temporary quarters on the other side of the stardrive.

Someone definitely did not like him.

[Henderson to Vice-Legate Curran]

Kylar jabbed his communication pin in frustration. "Curran here, Captain."

[Something the matter, Legate?]

"No, Captain, nothing I can't take care of. What do you need?"

[The Galaxy's Executive Officer has come aboard. I'd like to get the introductions out of the way and have you work with him on ship-wide policy.]

"On my way, Captain."

****

Main Bridge
Twelve Minutes Later

More turbolift antics. It would seem several junctions are still cordoned off while engineering crews were doing whatever it is they do when they crammed up a Jeffries tube - generally causing headaches for the rest of the crew around them.

"YOU ARE LATE!" The moment Curran stepped out of the lift tube, he had come face-to-face with the largest Klingon he had ever seen. The Kelvan's head only came to the bottom edge of his chestplate. He had to crane his neck backwards to even look him in the eye, and that's only if Kol was looking down on him, which he was. With rage.

"Late would dictate that a time had been imposed on my arrival. Last I heard, it had not."

"Don't get mouthy with me, pup. If I say you're late, then you are late. I should tear out your heart for the insolence!"

"You are welcome to try." Curran let his lips curl into a snarl as a low rumble filled his chest. They stared and growled like this for several long seconds before Kor broke off in a hearty laugh, clapping the Kelvan hard on his back. Kylar stumbled against the impact, but Kor didn't care.

"I like you, Kelvan, you have some courage!" His deep voice dropped its jovial tones into hard seriousness. "Be forewarned! Don't cross me, or I will kill you."

"And I said, you're welcome to try."

"Yes, well, maybe one day, we shall see. Now, show me this protocol on board Starfleet ships, so that I can change it!"

*****

Deep Space 5
Operations

"Admiral, long-range sensors are picking up something."

"I don't want to hear something, Ensign! It would be more informative to tell me exactly what it is, so I can make the snap decisions you junior officers are incapable of making."

Biting down hard, the Centauri science officer ran subsequent scans to verify an ID transponder, if one was present.

"I believe there's a transponder sending, but there's too much interference still to give a verifiable ID trace, ma'am. But I can confirm that it is at a trajectory and speed of Warp 8 on a direct heading to the station. Time to arrival.... eight hours."

The operations officer on the deck spun in his seat with alarm.

"Ma'am, the only ship currently docked at the station that could intercept whatever that is in time is the Galaxy, and she's about to depart."

Proctor froze in thought. Sheila Harrison and the Science officer exchanged glances. So much for the snap decisions by the Admiral. Even they knew what to do.

Olivia hadn't wanted to send the Galaxy, though. She would not be dependent on the ship that would not abide by her rule.

"What about the Delaware?"

Brian Frost, the Operations officer, turned back and ran the report.

"No. Its maximum is warp 6. They're in need of a replacement warp coil, which is already underway."

Proctor shook her fist.

"Send the Galaxy to intercept. Destroy if need be. Make sure it isn't one of those damned Dithparu coming back for a second go-around. If it's anything other than a natural element, tell the ship to track it back to its source and report."

"Yes, ma'am." Sheila turned back to her console, pressed a finger against the communication node in her ear, and transmitted the new orders for the Galaxy.

An immediate acknowledgment and confirmation was returned.

“And So The Physicals Begin…”

Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was strange Kimberly realised, to have an office but not to actually do most of your work in it! Up until now she had done all her work in offices, and been able to dress as she please (within regs of course) and feel she was working in a comfortable environment. Now...

Looking around sickbay, her sickbay she realised with a small smile of contentment, she wondered what the regs had to say about making this place a little more... comfortable... a few comfy chairs would be nice, maybe a picture or two?

~ Must look it up ~ she reminded herself. Settling the blue Doctors’ coat comfortably on her shoulders she walked over to the biobed where her first clien... ~ Patient, patient! ~ she reminded herself, was waiting.

"Lieutenant Bental?" she enquired.

The man beamed at her. She notice that the smile was a little crooked. He was in his mid-twenties, slim and healthy-looking. His brown eyes seemed to twinkle, but it was undeterminable if the gleam was deceitful, mischievous or enthusiastic.

"Hi," she greeted him cheerfully and with a bright smile, "I'm Doctor Burton, your new CMO, pleased to meet you,"

"Pleased to meet you too, Doctor. I'm Saul Bental, from Tactical."

He measured the woman in front of him. She was, in his opinion, stunning. The different colours of her beautiful eyes only made her more exotic in his eyes. He forced himself to visualize Nara for a moment; She was beautiful too, if not more than the new Medical chief. She would also not hesitate to vaporize him with her nasty Sakarian weapons if he messes around.

'Spaceborn modelling agency.', He muttered mentally.

Out loud, he asked, "You're the third Medical Chief we had in the past half a year... when did you come aboard?"

"Not long, just a few weeks ago," she replied, indicating a biobed she led him across the ward, "any complaints or problems not on your file you'd like to mention before we start?"

"No, not really. It's all on the file. Nothing new."

"So then," patting the biobed, "have a seat and tell me what brings you here?"

"It's nothing much," Saul made a dismissing motion with his hand. "My jaw broke when we reached Deep Space 5. It was restored, but Doctor Slen said I need to be checked monthly. Since I also need to drop by every now and then to pick up my permanent medicine, I decided to catch too birds with one hand."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, "have a seat and we can check that out, anything else you'd like to mention, or are you reasonable healthy then?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Doctor Burton, but that's all. If it's not good enough, I can break more bones next time..."

Smiling, "If you want to break more bones, feel free, I'll do my best to fix you up, but I'll also have to call the counsellors," she threatened cheerfully, pulling out her tricorder she unclipped the scanner and ran it over him slowly, "meanwhile, could you answer me a quick question?"

"Sure thing."

"Do you have any idea what happened to my predecessor? Details on file are a little thin." Kimberly asked.

Saul shook his head. "I think that Klaus transferred. You can ask Doctor Slen about his whereabouts. As for the Doctor that came after him, I only saw her once and have no idea why she transferred. But there are worse things."

"Oh?" she asked as she tapped the biobed controls to activate one of its scanners, "like?"

Saul smirked. "I think I'm the sixth Chief Tactical Officer to serve on the Galaxy in the past couple of years. Let's see... there was Henderson, but he was promoted... and the Romulan, I served with him 'till he fell into a coma... and this strong alien guy, and the Borg-like fellow, and Lieutenant Taern... yes, I'm certainly in a worse position than you."

He stretched slightly. "But as I told my fellow Tactical Officer, I'm here to stay. I hope that you too."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere soon," Kimberly agreed, "I'd like to settle down somewhere and get used to doing a job and getting a chance to do it well," she admitted, "Well, so far your results seem okay, but I'd like to run a couple more tests if that's okay, just to update your file," she asked, "would you mind sitting up and taking off your jacket and tunic?" she asked.

Saul nodded, and straightened up. His uniform and tunic soon found themselves thrown in the general direction of a nearby chair. The body that was revealed beneath it was slim, and not very muscular.

Once his jacket was off Kimberly began a check on his back and kidneys by gently palpitating his lower back, "any pains or aches?" she asked, "and I suppose I should ask really, who's the best person to speak to aboard about ship board gossip?" she asked impishly.

"Everyone is.", Saul snorted. "Welcome to the USS Rumor Mill, Doctor. Everyone always knows everything. And if they don't, Intelligence are responsible for finding out and making it public. I'm sure that pretty soon you'll hear the most interesting stories."

Chuckling, "If we could power a starship by rumours, we'd break warp ten," Kimberly decided, "the rumour mill though is sometimes the best, or only way of finding out what's going on, on my last posting knowing who to talk to was invaluable."

"What was your last posting?", Saul asked.

"The Relentless, I was Chief Counsellor," she dropped in casually, wondering how he'd respond.

Saul simply nodded. If he recalled correctly, counsellor Dallas herself was a registered nurse. It was not uncommon for the blue-collared people to cross the lines to other department. Besides, there were more important things to speak about regardless of the Doctor's career choice.

"Anyway, that reminds me, If there's anything you need to get, you know, not through the regular channels such as the OPS department, the address is not everyone," Saul glanced sideways, sneakishly. "The address is me, and I am always glad to be of service."

"Thanks, I'll remember that," focussing on the bed's displays Kimberly watched as the scan results flowed across the screen and turned her attention to his shoulder, "how's this?" she asked, first scanning then gently running a finger over the recent phaser wound.

Saul twitched slightly. "Cold. Doesn't hurt, though."

"It was a deep wound, did the attending physician discuss neural trauma with you?" she asked as she checked her scan results.

"No, he didn't.", Saul said suspiciously. "I was certain that it was only a flesh wound. A phaser beam passed millimetres from the shoulder, scorching it... I didn't realize it caused any deep damage."

"I doubt it has," Kimberly replied reassuringly, "however phasers are an energy weapon, and nerves transmit energy, and like any energy conduit they can be overloaded. I'll schedule you for a routine neurological scan, just to be on the safe side though."

"Roger that," Saul surrendered without a fight.

"It's not something that's typically done, but I'm a firm believer in being careful, plus, I'm doing a study on energy weapons and the damage they cause, if you've no objections I'd like to run a few check to be sure?" she asked.

"As long as I end up healthy, no objections at all."

Nodding in reply Kimberly focussed on her tricorder again and ran the scanner over his jaw, "Any trouble after your jaw was fixed? Noticed any 'popping'? or tension?"

“It feels a little… awkward, but it doesn’t hurt, and it’s much better than two months ago. I can actually speak uninterrupted… as you must’ve noticed,” he grinned.

“It looks to be healing nicely, but if it’s still feeling odd after another few weeks come back and see me… other that that you look to be healing nicely and fit for duty, we’ll go through the full physical regime in a few months, ‘til then if you have any problems don’t hesitate to pop in,” she suggested with a cheery smile.

“Yes Ma’am,” Saul replied. He rose from the bio bed and quickly picked up his attire. “So I suppose I’ll see you in my next drop-by or the next staff meeting… and I hope to see you here for a long time.”

“I’m not going anywhere yet,” she replied reassuringly.

"Doctor's Orders"

Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Miramon Terrik
Chief Navigation Officer, USS Galaxy

Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Crawling out from under the biobed Kimberly looked at the offending item in her hand, turning to face the young Ops crewman who was stood there with a look of confused uncertainty on his face she held out her hand to him, "Care to explain just 'how' a Varellian Krauch got into the beds internals?" she asked as she dropped the stunned creature into his hand, "I think someone's going to want their pet back, but drop it by ships vet, make sure it's okay and the anestezine didn't hurt it," she ordered.

As the crewman walked off, looking at the creature Kimberly looked down at the other engineer who's head was still under the bed and in the wall, "any more in there?" she asked.

"No Ma'am," a voice floated out of the wall, "and I'll have this fixed in a moment."

"Thanks Chief, how'd you know what it was?" she asked.

"Seen it around, not the first time it's napped on an EPS conduit, it seems to like 'em."

"Great, make sure the unit's sealed please," she muttered as she walked back to her office, awkward little critter it had gotten in there somehow and had almost made her do an emergency procedure on an already nervous crewman.

"Ma'am," her assistant said as she passed her desk, "Lieutenant Miramon is due in shortly for his physical,"

"Thank you," diverting to a biobed she set it up for his exam.

He hated this time of the year - or rather, the bi-annual time for the year - the time for his personal physical. Sure, he kept himself relatively healthy, making sure he exercised every day, spending a good hour in the gymnasiums after his shifts, taking a jog around one of the lower decks before breakfast (at least most days), and his diet wasn't entirely made up of junk. Heck, he even cooked himself, as opposed to had the replicator do the cooking.

But no. That didn't mean squat - he couldn't avoid the medicals, and if he did, you could be damned sure that the CMO would tell the Captain, and if the Captain didn't have him personally escorted down to Sickbay and strapped down to a biobed until the medical staff had finished their various tests, he'd be relieved of duty on medical grounds and therefore unable to run his department. So, against his objections, off he went...

He strode into Sickbay, keeping as much of a smile on his face as he could manage. His uniform was carefully cleaned and pressed, because even if he did hate medicals, he had to walk into Sickbay, nice and prepared and co-operative with the medical staff, because he had a whole department placing bets behind his back on how long it would take him to decide it was a big mistake and work up an excuse to get the heck outta there. Well he'd see about that!

He looked around briefly for the CMO - not his regular doctor, until he'd been promoted. Before he'd gotten one of the other doctors that was less intent on reporting his health to the nearest CO. Now he was the CO for his own department, and had his own physical results forwarded directly to the XO or Captain, he got the CMO, along with all the various remonstrations about his health as he could stand - or at least, that was what he was expecting. Still, nice and calm.

"Doctor?" he gently called out into the room, which was, for a ship of over 1000 souls, relatively empty - maybe he was going to get away with this after all. Ship's CMO out of the medical bay, unfortunate timing, maybe some other time...Yeah. That was gonna happen.

Looking up at the hail Kimberly smiled as she recognised the face from the file, walking over to the Bajoran Lieutenant she smiled, "Lieutenant Miramon... Hi, I'm Doctor Burton, the new CMO, welcome to sickbay."

"Thank you, Doctor." Miramon appraised the doctor with a quick glance, trying to absorb as much as he was able to regarding her stance, mannerisms, body language - essentially sizing her up as far as things went: certainly one of the things which came naturally having lived through the Occupation of Bajor by the Cardassians. During such times, everyone was a potential adversary, so you got used to checking them over with a glance. "Anyway, you have me here, so you might as well get these tests of yours done and dusted, before I get called away. It's rare enough to find me in Sickbay, much less intent upon staying."

Raising an eyebrow she smiled again, "You're no fan of the yearly physical I take it," she asked as she led him to a biobed, "don't worry, I'm just updating everyone's files, getting to know the senior staff, this won't be the full regime," she assured him as she patted the bed, "hop up and we'll get started," she asked him.

"You're the Doc, Doc." Miramon gave the woman a gentle smile and did as he was told, taking off his uniform jacket first, since it was getting pretty warm in there. The problem with living on a ship this large is that there were that many different species living aboard that the average room temperature tended to be a little high compared to Bajoran norms - which were just slightly lower than those you might find on human settlements.

Activating the beds sensors she pulled her tricorder from her belt and linked it to the bed, "So, if I recall your file correctly you're in pretty good shape," she commented as she ran the tricorders scanner over him, "other than the desire to be somewhere else," she said with a grin, "anything you'd like to mention? Anything new or interesting?"

"Well, so far the treatments I get regularly for my allergies have stopped me from throwing my cat out of our quarters, and I can at least breathe when I walk into the room. It's a stupid thing, but I didn't know I had an allergy until after I adopted the creature. I mean, how was I supposed to know?"

That particular thing bothered the Bajoran slightly, although probably less than he was inclined to mention to the doctor. After all, a lot of people were disturbed by his general equanimity, so he didn't mind embellishing the odd problem here and there to make it sound as though he was pretty much like everyone else - certainly so for the human population. That said, anyone that thought Bajorans and Humans were alike in that regard had clearly never been to Bajor.

"Well being Bajoran, how would you know if you were allergic to a Terran cat? I've never come across a pu'lukku, so I don't know if I'm allergic," Kimberly said calmly, "I'll take some blood and check your dosage though, but since you started taking the medication have you had any problems with your cat?" she asked with a slightly wistful look on her face.

The CONN Chief shook his head vigorously at that one. "I'll assume by that you mean have I had any medical problems caused by the cat, as opposed to whether or not I've had a problem with the cat. Sufficed to say, I wish somebody would have warned me when I adopted it. I've had uniforms shredded, ornaments knocked over - you name it. Medically, though, it's fine, except when I forget to take my medication. Then I sneeze like crazy and seem to itch all over. Not comfortable."

He grimaced slightly at the thought - it was especially bad if he'd forgotten to take his pills before bed, since the cat tended to sleep nearby and, thus, on such occasions sleep became something he wished for but only got about three to four hours later when the hastily-swallowed medicine kicked in. Still, the doc likely knew more about that sort of thing than he did, so he didn't continue to comment.

"Anyway, how are you settling in, doc?"

"So far, good, the crew seems nice, reasonably healthy despite certain recent events, and I've had time to settle in and get to know people," she admitted, "all in all It's great, how about you?" she asked suddenly, "how long have you been aboard? How've you found things aboard?"

"Well, I transferred here from the Valdemar about a year and a half ago. There's really not a lot you can say about the Galaxy, though. She's big, packs a punch and seems to get into more trouble than any other ship in Starfleet, or the Quadrant for that matter." He paused for a moment, trying to think about the best way to describe it. "I guess, when it comes down to it, you'll find that sort of experience makes the crew less of a group of disparate comrades and more a rather large family. Which is probably just as well, since I'd hate to have to rely on people I didn't get on with in the middle of a battle with whoever decides that the Galaxy would look better with some holes punched into the hull."

"Being able to trust your crew mates is important," Kimberly agreed, "especially on a ship that has more than it's fair share of trouble," she agreed, "and speaking of family, do you have any aboard?" she asked.

The Bajoran gave a gentle laugh and shook his head. "I'm surprised that you don't know whether I do or not. After all, my records should tell you. But no, my only family lives on Bajor. My mother is a teacher, my father is retired from the militia, my sister is an artist and my brother is an acolyte at one of the temples in the Bajoran capital. I'm the youngest, if you were wondering. How about you? Where's your family? Your husband hiding behind a bulkhead, kids downstairs in school?"

"Well what your file says and what's actually going on might be two different things," Kimberly reminded him, "as efficient as Fleet is," with a very slight but detectable sarcastic lilt to her voice as she said efficient, "things do get missed occasionally."

"True enough. And I suppose it's true to say that Starfleet's terrible for not offering up information of its own volition." Miramon noted with a small smile. He was still getting used to the nuances of fleet bureaucracy, and thanked the Prophets for the hundredth time that he didn't have something more akin to a desk job.

"To answer your question though, no husband, my ward though is aboard, she'll be going to school downstairs as soon as we've met the teacher," she said a little absently, paying attention to her readouts, "well, I'm happy to say that everything looks good here, neurological scans show a healthy brain, blood work looks good, but I'll take a sample to run some more tests if you don't mind, bones and muscles are in good shape, do you exercise often?" she asked.

"Yes indeed. Most Bajorans tend to be active, even though we're also a spiritual people. I play Springball, attend Tai Chi classes that tend to run every few weeks, whenever we're not in a battle or hazardous situation. And then I also tend to go running in the Holodeck now and then - Saul's got a few rigorous training programs designed for fitness, so I use them where possible." He was amused at the idea of having a 'healthy brain'. As far as he was concerned, if he could do his job efficiently and feel good at the end of the day, he couldn't have cared less what conditions his brain was in. Still, the doctor on the other hand clearly did, so he wasn't going to say anything.

"Okay then," checking another screen, "we'll schedule you in for a complete physical in a few months rather than a check up, but for now, other than a slightly elevated histamine level you're fine, we'll increase your allergy medication slightly, should stop you from sneezing all over your cat," she explained simply, smiling again, "any questions?

"Just wondering what I did to deserve a full physical." The Bajoran gave a wry grin, his expression simply radiating amusement. "I mean, I haven't been that much of a bad patient, have I? Surely I deserve a little leniency?"

"Well you've been a good patient I'll admit, however, rules are rules I'm afraid, everyone's gonna get a full physical, but hey, I'll get to meet a lot of the crew, make new friends, probably annoy a few others," Kimberly admitted with a chuckle.

"That's the job, Doc. I annoy people now and then, I'm sure, but you and I have the benefit of knowing, in the long run, that we're right, and we know we're right because we wouldn't be senior officers if we were wrong. And yeah, I figured you were going to argue it that way. Gotta be above reproach, right?" Miramon noted, his expression calm but his continuing amusement reflected in his blue eyes.

"Besides, after recent events, and I don't just mean the last encounter, I've noticed quite a few crew have skipped medicals, let injuries go untreated, if I make it a blanket order then no-one can be exempt," she explained.

Miramon paused at that. Everyone did their best to skip medicals - likely including the Captain, and it seemed that officers got more stubborn about it the higher you went up the chain of command. Of course, your average green ensign out of the Academy would report to Sickbay so fast that they would burn a hole in the carpet, since it wouldn't do to have it put down on their record that they were resistant to instructions from the CMO - that wasn't good for promotion. Ironic, really, since those that did have those promotions were known for being resistant - even if that wasn't included in the job description. But the doctor probably knew that better than most officers, so if she said there was going to be a blanket order, by the Prophets there would be.

Actually, he'd love to see what the Captain would say about that when it was time for his physical.

"Okay, Doc. Got a date and time, or are you just going to spring this one on me as a surprise?"

"Think of it as a pleasant surprise waiting to happen," Kimberly replied cheerfully, tapping a command into the bed she picked up several ampoules that were dispensed and slipped them into a carry pouch, "here's your meds, I'll review your blood work and if it needs to be upped I'll give you a call," she offered.

"Uh, thanks, Doc. Although, unless it's really serious, let's not make that call, okay? But thanks for the check-up, and the conversation. Will there be anything else?" Miramon asked, his expression switching between gently playful and somewhat hopeful.

Smiling again and shaking her head at the same time, “No, you’re good for now, but I’ll be seeing you again soon,” she promised. Letting the Lieutenant depart she picked up a PADD and began updating his notes with her scan results and sent his blood off to the lab for a few routine tests. Singing absently to herself while she cleared up she returned to her office when she was done for more of the dreaded paperwork.

"Three Months in a Dark Room, With Nothing but a Fractured Mind for Company"

Lieutenant JG Tarin Iniara (sort of)
Operations Chief, USS Galaxy

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

i can't believe i'm here again why am i here again what's all this business with telepathy i'm not a telepath i swear i swear oh prophets i know i'm lying but if they knew they'd tear me apart if they knew if they knew how powerful it was how powerful my mind was they'd tear me apart tear me apart tear me apart someone get me out of here someone take me home

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

it's so cold in here so cold and dead where is this place what is this place is this home no it can't be home was always warm home was a prison but it was always warm no it wasn't a prison stop treating it like that your family loved you even with all your faults even with all your fucking faults your need to shun everyone and do whatever you pleased whenever you pleased how did i end up like this how did i end up so spoiled how did i end up hating everyone how can i stop

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

i've been here for a while i don't know where here is but i've been here for a while it's so dark it's almost black almost pitch black except for that tiny little light that tiny little pinprick over there what if i went toward it no wait don't go toward the light isn't that what someone said once am i dead?

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

i can hear them i'm not alone i'm never alone not with the mind i have but no no no this is different there are voices what are they saying what the hell are they saying i wish i could hear them are they talking about me yes yes i think they are yes they are all around me but i can't see them but they are all around me where the hell am i

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

the voices won't go away it's so quiet so peaceful and serene but yet the voices won't go away i don't know what they are they dance around the tiny little light i think you call that dancing i think they might be birds but the tiny little light is getting bigger more and more are coming they are all around me they swarm and swirl and play away do they even see me down here why won't they leave me alone are they glob flies no no that's not right this is home this is home home home there are no glob files here glob flies like targs and there are no targs here at least there weren't how did i know that

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

the light is bigger now it's glowing glowing so bright what is it if i could only reach out and touch it grab it hold on to it but why can't i why can't i

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

this is prison why am i here how long will i be here how long will i be stuck here forever forever forever and ever til death do us part death what is death is this death it feels like death but i don't know wouldn't i be somewhere else by now wouldn't i be roasting in the fire pits by now maybe this is my punishment stuck in a dark room with nobody for company but my own fractured mind this is worse than hell

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

this is death this is worse than hell prophets what did i ever do to deserve this why did i even live why did i even try to have a good life if this was all i was looking forward to a good life oh now that's a good one a great one in fact why the hell did i even do anything good or bad i could have done much worse really i mean all those people i killed i could have tortured instead no no they weren't people they were just cardassians and they deserved to die they all deserved to die for their crimes so what if some of them were innocent i don't care any more it doesn't matter anymore i should have done more if this was where i was going to end up there was no point in any of the good there was no point in trying to redeem myself no point at all i should have been worse should have been much worse at least then i would feel this was justified

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

the voices are louder now every time i try to reach them they move away but they are there and i think i can understand them i hope i can understand them maybe they are talking about me maybe they are pagh-wraiths maybe they are going to kill me destroy me tear me apart and burn the pieces maybe then this will all be over maybe then i will have peace

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

there's a river is it a river of fire is it hot will it burn me oh prophets no it is so cool so blue let me in sweep me away no no no go away go away go away go away don't come near unless you're going to end it this is just torture the white light stop it stop it's in my eyes it won't go away get it out of my eyes it burns it stings oh just get it over with this is ridiculous the light the bright light the sun is it a sun no no it's not a sun it's just a light it's swallowing me up it's going to eat me whole and then i'll be dead really dead this is death yes yes this is death the light the light it is really going to kill me please come get it over with please hurry

"Insight 9: A Free Peek Into Hell"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck***

Nara couldn't see the woman talking to Baile. Nara didn't know the idea running through his mind like she did.

He caught the glance from Maya. The blond woman walked behind the young Starfleet officer. "Don't Killer.. Don't do it."

"I got some memories you can peek into for good measure.." The tone was light, but there was something about the way he said it. The Devil offering a free peak into hell.

Nara's lips turned upward into an amused grin. The curiosity tugged at her, but frankly, she'd had enough of sharing minds for awhile, "I got into Victor's mind. A tiny sliver. Scared the hell outta me." She looked at his eyes. Daring her. Oh, could she resist such a challenge? The smiled widened as she felt the streak of competition run down into her, "Promise not to lock me in there?"

The look from Maya was anything but friendly. He looked at her and then shot

her a wolfish grin. "I'll see what I can do.."

Nara raised an eyebrow. It really wasn't everyday she entered someone's mind. She'd gotten used to the idea that Saul would never let her in. Dhani's was so guarded you were tortured for even trying. No one else she was really interested in except Victor, and that shock proved to teach her NEVER to touch that socket EVER again. Yet, here was a man, much more creepy

on several levels and she was about to go in. She shrugged and jumped off the table, and walked closer to him, "Would you like a seat?" She grinned at

him. One of those grins competitors usually share. One that said, 'It's gonna be a pleasure showin ya what I'm made of.'

"I'm sure..." he replied, declining the offer to sit down. Maya's expression

changed back and forth between incredibly irritated and deeply concerned. This had certainly not been a part of the plan.

"Hmm." She muttered, "Well, I would." She pulled a chair and sat about a foot away from where he stood. "Let me know when you're ready." She looked at him. She readied her mind. If the exterior was creepy, she couldn't imagine the inner soul of the man. Or, rather, the non-soul, as it would seem.

The alien eyes locked onto hers, unyielding and determined. "Stay out of this, Legs..." he said to Maya while he nodded towards Nara.

Nara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "Legs? Stay out of what?"

Maya cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. She gave him the same look she had done when she was alive. The 'I want to see how you'll

get out of this mess' - look.

"Be a nice girl and I might tell you some day, Sally.." he replied with a grin that never reached his eyes.

"Nice. Sure." She grinned back, "Alright. Here we go." She looked into the eyes of Baile a moment, into his soul. After she started the link she closed

her eyes to concentrate. ~Alright, Baile. Give me what ya got.~

*******

Have you ever stared into a hole so deep it feels like you are falling?

She fell. Fell into a distorted world. The night sky was crisp, cold in that

way that makes your fingers go numb, but it doesn't really hurt. They just go... numb.

The stars above offered the tiniest of lights across the massive landscape. The wind roared in her ears, tugged at her clothes, strange invisible hands.

A netherworld. Dead and barren. It greeted her as she landed on the cold dark rocks, knocking the air out of her for a few seconds, but the bones remained intact.

After catching her breath and letting a shiver run through her body--in her mind that is--she stood. She mind spoke, but in this strange representative of the mind that seemed to instinctively appear, it was audible, "Why am I not surprised. You invite me in, and then try to freeze me to death." It was

partly a joke, but she was also trying to get him to respond. She didn't like being in someone's mind and the persons themselves seemed to be hiding.

Content to let the visitor go into the open doors. Nara didn't intend to see

anything he didn't show her, but she would like some kind of sense that he was around.

"Insight 10: The Killer Artist"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck/Baile's Mindscape***

"Welcome." His voice shattered the howling wind that played with her hair. Slowly he walked around her, his heavy boots scraping against the stone. The

sound from the scraping was much louder than normal. This was his world. His

hearing. His vision.

Her body was constantly shivering now. Partly from the "cold" and partly from the way this mind wore on her nerves. Nerves which hadn't fully healed from the Dithparu incident. At least here, she could leave anytime she wanted. But here, she felt she wanted to show Baile how much she could handle.

"So what do you wish me to see?"

He was different here. Unbound. Unfettered by the shackles of humanity. The dark and worn duster had definitely seen better days, but it was like him. Weatherworn and scarred. This was Baile. The new Baile. He looked at her, more alien than ever. "What do you think you'll see?"

She looked down and picked up a small frozen stone. Her hands were numb as it was, so it didn't matter. She tossed it between her hands a moment as she

answered, "Things I'll likely regret." She tossed the stone to his side, letting it fly past him, down the hill. "But I took your dare. I'm not backing down."

If this was the visual representation of his mind, then he was truly dead inside. At least according to human references "Good." he replied. "The world is filled with quitters." He started walking, not bothering to check if she was following him.

She moved immediately as he did. She really wondered how much she could take. Her own mind was filled with horrible memories. She didn't know if he would show her several at once or one at a time. That didn't matter. She was

in for the count now.

"How good is your memory?" he asked suddenly. White whips rose from his mouth as he spoke.

"Pretty good if I don't suppress it." She answered still bearing herself whatever he would bring.

He crouched down, balancing on his toes, now more than ever resembling a predator. "I'm blessed and cursed with eidetic memory.. especially faces.." his voice was both tormented and amused at the same time. A thin smile formed on his face. "I never forget a face.. It's the Universe's way of reminding me of the effects of what I'm good at.."

Nara stood where she was, silent. She wasn't sure what he was getting at. She looked around, wondering what would jump out.

Suddenly the scene changed. The sky turned red, plumes of smoke rising from burning buildings around them. Baile was no longer sitting on the ground. He

walked with a strange fire burning in his eyes, taking cover from enemy fire. He fired one shot at a time, each shot finding its intended target. Bodies lay strewn across the streets, torn and ravaged by artillery.

A primitive roar rose from Baile as he charged a group of enemies, gunning them down with mortal precision. A knife appeared in his hand when he reached the figures, starting a deadly dance which ended only when the dead bodies landed on the ground with heavy thuds. He crouched down again, touching the blood with his fingers. The red liquid was thick, crimson. Slowly he touched his face, drawing one line on each side.

Nara was touched, but not much, by the scene. She only furrowed her brows when he painted his face with the blood. "I already knew you were a sadist, Baile."

The barren landscape was back again. The coldness returned with unmatched strength. A thin layer of frost covered the dark land around them. "Sadist?"

he replied. His shirt was gone. Tattoos ran across his torso and arms in a chaotic pattern. His tone was amused as he looked at her with eyes reflecting the faint silvery light from the stars above. Two silver wisps in

the dark.

She wrapped her arms around herself, willing herself not to shiver. "You don't just kill. You make it an art. Only people who are obsessed with anything can be artists."

She spots a tree and moves toward it. She feels the skin, muscles and blood begin to thicken with the frozen landscape. She always found it odd how the mind can cause such sensuality. She briefly wondered how her physical body was doing, but decided not to care. She was intrigued now. Freezing, but intrigued. Upon approaching the tree, she touches the bark, amazed her hands can still feel it. It was ice. One good hit with something and it would shatter. Like anything that was frozen. Like Baile's soul.

NRPG: This series of posts takes place the day before the Galaxy departs DS5. -- MJ

"Departure, Part I"

First Lieutenant T'Shani
Commanding Officer (Relieved)
SFMC Furies Detachment

Major Corran Rex (unauthorized)
Commanding Officer
SFSC Vanguard Squadron

------------------- USS Galaxy Officer's Quarters -------------------

"Uuuuugh," T'Shani moaned, her voice muffled by the heavy blanket that was partly over her head. What had happened the night before, she didn't really remember. ~Whatever it was, it better have been good: she had a raging headache right now.

Slowly, she sat up in the bed, leaning forward and cradling her forehead in her hands. She was somewhat surprised to find herself naked as the sheet fell down from around her chest. She was even *more* surprised when she finally came to the realization that she was not *alone* in the bed, either.

Instinct kicked in, and she quickly jumped up from the bed, her senses clearing a little with a sudden shot of adrenaline. She was about to call for the lights, but then realized that either her quarters had changed their configuration overnight or she had been sleeping in someone else's bed.

Carefully, quietly, she stepped over to the other side of the bed, trying to get a glimpse of who had shared his (or maybe even *hers*, she couldn't really remember) bed with her.

She knelt down at the side of the bed. Slowly, she reached up and grabbed ahold of the thick covers that encapsulated her mystery host. With her antennas bobbing slowly in anticipation, T'Shani pulled the covers off of the slumbering head.

"Oh, my," she uttered, surprised. ~How in the galaxy did I...~ her mind wheeled, as she tried to make out the darkened features of the face in front of her. It looked... familiar.

Her brain, in the meantime, tried repeatedly to call for details of the last evening, but her memory wasn't giving any coherent replies.

~Transfer orders...~ it said at first.

~Heavy alcohol...~ it remembered next.

~Corran Rex...~

"Oh, Rhooz!" she swore as her brain finally rearranged the evidence. Her mouth hung open in amazement, her left antenna twitching ever so slightly. Lost in her momentary stupor, she lost her balance, teetering backwards onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom.

Major Corran Rex's Bedroom.

Pushing herself back up from the floor, she looked at Corran--snoring softly under the covers of his bed--then to herself, naked and lying on the floor. She did this again, several times, each time her mind slowly supplying her with additional information.

As the evidence built, she came to another realization. ~No, we didn't...~ she stood up, running her hands over her breasts, then down her stomach, then down... down... cupping herself between her legs.

~Thuuk, we *did*.~

She finally figured out what had gone on the night before.

*****

It had only taken her ten minutes to shower, but it had taken almost twenty more to actually locate her clothing and get dressed. The top half of her uniform was haphazardly draped across Rex's bedroom dresser. So was her uniform bra. Her duty pants were out in the living room, near the small dining table. So were her socks.

But she couldn't find her panties, or her boots. Pulling on the bra and uniform tunic, she circled the bedroom once more, in search of the missing unmentionable. Behind the dresser... no. Under the bed... no. In the bed... no. In the bathroom... no. She paused in her search for a second, arching an antenna as she peered at her half-nude form in the mirror. Turning slightly, she peered closer at the reflection. ~My ass isn't really *that* big, is it?~ she wondered to herself, running her hands down her naked backside, as she studied it again.

~Must be the mirror,~ she decided as she went searching again. Passing Rex's bed for the fourth time, she wondered how he was still sleeping, with all the ruckus she had been making. He sure slept soundly.

~Or maybe you just gave him the ride of his life, Tinis,~ she smiled to herself as she moved into the living room.

*****

Well, at least she had found her boots. They were actually neatly stowed under the coffee table, socks inside. It was the underwear that she *couldn't* find.

Quickly, she glanced at the chrono mounted on cabin wall.

0400.

"Rhooz," she swore silently, realizing that she had only a few hours to make her last rounds and then head for the USS Venture, which would be taking her to her next assignment.

Deciding to forgo search of the errant undergarment (besides, Corran would probably find them, and wouldn't mind keeping them), she pulled her duty slacks on, quickly zipping the front. Next, she pulled on socks and boots, then made sure her appearance looked fitting in the reflection of the cabin portal glass.

Quickly, she stole back into the bedroom, her senses now clear for the most part (with the exception of the dull headthrob that reminded her that this *was* all real). Again, she knelt down at Corran's edge of the bed.

She smiled, her antennas arching in amusement at his sight. Although his hair was disheveled from sleeping, his rugged features just looked so... peaceful as he softly snored.

"Goodbye, Corran Rex," she said softly, tenderly. If only they could have made something more out their relationship. If only...

She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on his spotted forehead. "Sleep well, and dream of me," she whispered in his ear. He stirred a little bit, then settled back in.

"I'll dream of you," she thought out loud. Turning, she slipped out of his quarters, out of his life, and into the future...

---------------------- Later that morning... ----------------------

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

[The time is zero five-hundred.]

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

[The time is zero five-oh-one.]

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

[The time is...]

"Computer, cancel and reset alarm," the fighter pilot's muffled voice called in an annoyed tone. And it was Sunday, anyways. He was off-duty today. Well, as off-duty as a fighter pilot got. Screw it. he could sleep in. Damned alarms. More persistent than an Andorian shen...

He sat straight up, looking quickly to the unoccupied side of the bed. The haze in his head informed him there'd been drinking the nigh before, and most definitely real alcohol, *not* synthehol. A memory of blue limbs tangled around his surfaced, and he knew exactly who it'd been. Though someone had definitely been sleeping there beside him, she was nowhere in sight.

"Tish?" he called out, groggily.

"Tish?!" Corran called out again, a little louder.

With no reply, he just shook his head. What a night. What a woman. 'Damn Cass anyway,' he thought bitterly for a moment 'for making this situation so complicated. Damn me for not being able to sort out his complicated feelings for Tish and Ella both. Damn me for getting attached to anyone anyways. That's against the rules.'

[The time is zero five-oh-three.] The computer dutifully reported.

"Oh, shut up." Corran muttered, stabbing at the bedside console to make sure the thing turned off. "Goodbye, Tish. See you 'round the galaxy," he said softly to the air.

Shaking the sleep from his head, he threw back the sheets and swung his feet onto the floor.

"What the...?" he reached down for whatever had fallen out from under the covers. Picking it up, he just shook his head as he stared at the bunched up pair of silk panties in his hands. A crooked smile spread across his features, and he shook his head, chuckling softly.

"Insight 11: Frozen"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck/Baile's Mindscape***

Approaching the tree, she touched the bark, amazed her hands can still feel it. It was ice. One good hit with something and it would shatter.

She nearly walked into him as she came around the tree. He was sitting there, crouched, no, perched, on a big stone. The tribal tattoos around his biceps framed them, made them seem even more powerful than they already were. "In death..." he spoke slowly, darkly, "we evolve.. In death we find... the truth of life.." Silvery eyes opened again, looking at her. "There's answers in death.. But few understands them... they only see the tragedy of the dead.. not the tales told.."

Nara was still tracing her fingers along the bark's texture, oddly transfixed to it. "The statue they made honoring my father is of a tree." Baile's words finally sank through her reverie and she looked over to the man, "I agree. I've heard a similar lecture before. But there's also plenty to learn in life. They're connected. The lessons. What you learn in life lead you to the bigger lessons in death."

The man with the alien eyes smiled. White teeth contrasting against the darkness around them. It wasn't a very pleasant smile. Or human. "My eyes have been opened... literally.." he chuckled low. "I dreamt once I fought myself.. stabbed myself to death.."

Somehow she wasn't surprised. "Odd how I don't find that odd." She smiled as

she added, "Who won?"

He rose and stepped down from the stone in one fluid motion. The frost crunched slightly under the weight of his boots. He raised his arms, palms up. "Me of course.." he chuckled. "Then I woke up with these..." Fingers pointed towards his eyes.

She looked at the eyes, "You poked your eyes out in a dream and it really happened?"

He looked at the horizon. The world he saw was immensely different from the one she saw. What had happened? Last thing he remembers was being on patrol on in that Hydran temple, or whatever it had been. "Now how would I have been able to do that?" he asked her, this time from behind her.

She almost jumped, but was learning quickly that it was his mind. He could transport himself anywhere. She turned her head slightly, but didn't turn around, "You tell me."

His breath nearly turned to ice crystals as he spoke. "Someday I will learn what happened... and then..." Baile told her. His voice had taken on a strange tone, a dark and hungry excitement for something. ".. Then that will

be an interesting day...."

Nara watched him a moment. The expression on his face was feral. Not new coming from him. She sat down on a rock. "It will be indeed."

"There was a time when I was tired of it all.." he said suddenly. A wind started blowing across the barren landscape, making it even colder than before. "Tired of the killing and the screams.." he paused for a few seconds, turning his face towards the wind. "Now all I have are the screams.. I hear them every day, every minute of every hour."

A chill ran threw Nara. The wind, the coldness and sadness of Baile. That wasn't new either. She had just met him, but she somehow felt as if she was learning more about him than most. Almost as if he needed someone to know these things. As if he were letting go. "Must be maddening." Was all she could manage as she watched him and felt consumed by the emotions his mind was emitting.

The wind bit into his face. He could feel the numbing coldness. Raising a hand he held it up against the wind. "Just.... loud.." Baile replied. It was

starting to get colder by the minute now. "I have no legacy to leave.. no children to carry my name.. No friends to tell my tale... part from this.." He made a gesture with his hand towards the black landscape around them.

"Do you think I can forget being inside your mind? Baile I think I know you better than anyone on this ship." She wasn't sure how comforting that would be. She knew he couldn't be comforted. There didn't seem to be much left to comfort.

"You should leave now.." he replied calmly. "This cold is not good for you."

The two silvery lights still looked at her, impossible to read, impossible to understand.

She smirked, "Maybe it's better for me than anything. I hide from my own demons, maybe I need to learn to face them. And you're one heck of a trainer."

"You don't want the knowledge I can give you." The marine looked out over the landscape. "It offers no rest, no... safety."

Nara looks at him sadly, "Life isn't all about rest and safety."

"Insight 12: Left Shivering"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
2nd Lt Jebediah Baile, Marine Recon Specialist

***Observation Deck/Baile's Mindscape***

Baile let his arms drop to his sides and looked up at the dark sky. The wind

bit into his skin, hard. The pain of it made him more alive... more in the moment. After a few seconds he turned his face towards her. "We all have our

parts to play in this... Walking down the same path as me is not yours. We are too different on too many levels."

"I'm not looking to be like you. I just want to understand some of this. I think I do. Enough anyway. It's ironic to feel compassion for a man who has no desire for it." She stepped backwards. "You live in the freezing desert. If you feel it's your part in the universe, so be it. I respect, appreciate and honor that. Even if I can offer no warmth, at least I know I tried to understand."

"You see a desert, I see... something else.." he replied, looking out towards the horizon. "Understanding is preferred over compassion.. compassion comes easy.. understanding.. is harder."

"What do you see? Is it something you don't want me to see?" She stepped closer again, trying to change her perspective.

Smiling he turned to Nara. It wasn't a happy smile, more the not so pleasant

kind, but it was a smile. "You see a dark landscape.. You can't break through the dark.." he crouched down again. "There is no darkness in my world any more.. I see the shape of the horizon. I see the valleys, the hills and the mountains surrounding us... There is no fear in the dark for me any more."

A shiver ran through her again. More intense this time, causing her to wince

in pain. When she opened her eyes, she replied, "Perhaps that's a good thing

what your part is. I need fear. I ignore what fear I do have and that makes everything pile on top of each other where all I have is this..." She paused

and sat, trembling. "I hide from so much of what's inside. To face it would mean having courage that I am shamed to admit I don't have."

"Rule your fears or let your fears rule you." Baile replied calmly, yet the smoldering fires inside of him could be sensed clearly. "It's all there is to it. No magical words from a counselor, no sudden insights. Just the decision of what to do and sticking with it no matter."

A small smile came to her lips as she looked at him. "Do you find it odd that I consider you to be an encouraging presence? Something to look up to? Oh, not everything, but some things." She paused and stood, "The way you see

things. We can stand to live some of it. Balance it with our humanity."

"One day I will die a violent death, hopefully dragging my enemies along for

company. I think you should find a less... violent person to encourage you..

And as for my humanity and it being in balance... I found a way to solve that.." he replied, sounding oddly calm.

She crosses her arms for warmth and as a natural stance, "Baile, violence doesn't bother me. I've experiences and inflicted plenty of it. Even if I'm not active in it now, it's forever part of who I am." She paused, letting another painful shiver rip through her before adding, "What way have you found to solve it?"

The smile he gave her looked human enough, but it wasn't. There was something missing. Baile's answer to her question resolved the mystery. "I got rid of it."

"How?"

"That is a tale for another time. You must leave now." he replied as the wind grew stronger and colder.

She was about to protest, but he hand reached for the tree as another shiver

ran through her, more painful than before. She managed to say, "I think you're right." She slowly made her way out, feeling warmth return.

Back in reality, she noticed the toll the mind trip took on her body. She was shivering and her body was covered in perspiration. She was concerned at

the effort it took to sit her body up from the slumped over position she found it in. Trying to stand was more than she could manage as she found herself falling back into the chair, nearly missing.

The marine blinked and took an involuntary step back before finding his balance again. She smelled of exhaustion, yet still she shivered, yet still he could see how pale she was. "That.." he said at last, "is what you get for three shots..."

She could only let out a weak, "Eh."

Maya gently touched his shoulder. Her killer was a flurry of death waiting for release and now it was her job to make sure it didn't happen here. "Come

lover.. " He hesitated for a second, still looking at Nara. "Just think of it," he said before heading for the door, "Someone like me in the white ranks of Starfleet... How's that for a nightmare?" His presence lingered in the room for a few moments after he had left. A nightmare indeed.

She finally lifted her head to look toward the door where he left. There he was. Jebidiah Baile. The marine to be feared. No doubt about it. Also a man to be pitied. Silently. Never let him know. He might kill you.

OOC: This is backposted a bit. Sorry.

"Boarding"

Lt(jg) Cora Dobyrin, Chief Intelligence Officer
2nd Lt S'srissa, Counter-Terrorism Unit Liason to Intelligence

Arriving on the transporter padd intact, the green-skinned Orion woman looked towards the transporter operator, who was now gaping. It took a brief moment to note he was an enlisted low-ranked man of Crewman rank. While she normally might just ignore it, she knew that if she did, the rumor mill would go nuts.

So, she quickly snapped, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Crewman."

He gulped, closing his mouth, "Sorry. I have your quarters assignment, duty roster and boarding data pack here."

Stepping down, she quickly made the short distance before taking the computer padd from him.

She nodded to him before turning, leaving the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making her way through the corridors of her latest duty station towards her quarters, the green-skinned Orion woman ignored the looks that she got from men that she passed.

Arriving, she used her previously-sent access code and the door opened. Entering the room, she stopped and looked around.

Dropping to a crouch instinctively after the door shut, she waited for a few moments to make sure no one was going to jump out before pulling her modified tricorder out.

Adjusting it, she began doing an intensive sweep for hidden bugs and recording devices, her trained paranoia coming to the fore. She did not find anything, including when she opened up the replicator housing to check for signs of wilful contamination.

Going back to her duffel bag, she picked it up and headed to the bedroom. She unpacked her gear, putting it away neatly in the cupboards - lined up dead straight in logical groupings.

She then headed to the computer terminal and began setting up her standard data-file security precautions. Once she had finished, she uploaded the CTU information she had brought with her.

Logging off after the encryption protocols had finished working, S'srissa smiled.

Bringing up the ship's map, she quickly located various locations and memorized them - the bridges, Main Security, the Infirmary, the Intelligence office. She knew that it was standard to check in with her commanding officer, who was a Lt. JG Cora Dobryin.

Cora had been expecting another new arrival to Galaxy's Intelligence deptarment. Glancing up as S'srissa entered. "Welcome aboard. I assume you have your orders with you Lieutenant"

S'srissa saluted and handed over a padd to Cora, standing at attention, "Yes, Lieutenant. My transfer orders from CTU are in this padd."

After accepting the PADD she returned to her seat, "Have a seat Lieutentant. Would you like something to drink?" Briefly Cora skimmed the data. "Everything appears to be in order."

S'srissa shook her head, "No, thank you - I am fine."

"You've joined us at a very interesting time," Cora commented. "Once we're finished here take some time to get settled in and review the latest dispatches from Intel. I'll expect to see you at the usual Intel brief at the start of Alpha shift tomorrow."

S'srissa smiled, "Certainly. I recieved a copy during my trip here, and have reviewed it. I will be there."

"Excellent," Cora replied, "Welcome to Galaxy's Intelligence Dept. I'll leave you to finish getting settled and review the data before our briefing."

“Wakey Wakey…”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Tarin Iniara
Operations Chief, USS Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

the morning star the morning star the sun the sun is it the sun no no its just a light bright light bright light on water cool blue water rippling in the wind let me in let me in the water is so cool sweep me away please please oh please I cant hear anything where is everyone oh prophets why am I here where is everyone why am i not dead sweep me away please I want to die am I dead am I alive oh prophets I am why why why the light the bright light the sun the sun I feel it where am I where am I

"Where am..." The voice was thick, slurred. At first she didn't think it was her own.

But the pain that accompanied the words, the pain that felt like knives in her whole head, there was no denying it. It had to be her voice. "Am...I..."

Slowly she forced her eyelids open. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Bright light flooded in, stinging her retinas. She groaned weakly, eyelids blinking erratically in an attempt to slow the assault.

A flash of movement registered at the edge of her vision. Painfully, deliberately, she turned her head. Stars exploded in her vision.

"Hello...?" she croaked.

There was nothing there, nothing but the stars. Whatever it had been, it was now gone.

But it had been there. She knew it. Maybe it would come back. Maybe.

She gathered what little strength she had, and tried again. "Hello... In here..."

"Doctor," came a voice from nearby, "she's waking up."

"Easy there Lieutenant," came a new voice, not just new to the situation but unfamiliar as well, "nurse, can we get the lights set to twenty five percent please." after a moment the lights dimmed, "Lieutenant, I'm Doctor Burton, your new CMO, can you tell me your name please?"

Iniara blinked several more times, trying to focus on the source of the voice. All she could see was a shadow.

"Iniara," she began after a moment. "Iniara...Sola." No, that wasn't right. "...Tarin. Tarin Iniara," she amended.

"How about the last thing you remember?" the same voice asked softly, just as a hand was rested gently on Tarins forehead, brushing a few stray locks of hair out of her eyes.

Iniara inhaled deeply, trying to straighten out her thoughts. Everything was so jumbled, but with enough concentration she was sure she could form a sentence. "The station. We were on the station. Something was... trying to tear me apart. From the inside." She paused, her brow furrowing. "What the hell happened?"

"From what I've been told and read so far Lieutenant, a race called the Diptharu tried to take over DS Five, they took control of any telepaths, you were host I believe to several of them and you've been unconscious for a little while," Kimberly said, still brushing Iniara's forehead gently, "but you're getting better now," she assured the young Bajoran, "how do you feel?" she asked.

"Terrible, Doc. Feel like I've been run over with something... big. Really big." Iniara closed her eyes and took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. Her eyes were moving under the lids, like she was searching for something.

"But it's quiet. So quiet," she continued after several seconds. She opened her eyes again and looked at Kimberly. Now she could see an outline of a face. "My telepathy's under control. The voices are gone. How did you shut them out?"

“It seems to be a side effect of the possession,” Kimberly informed her, still speaking softly, “from what’s been happening to the others who were affected your abilities have been... numbed, for the lack of a better word, they should recover though, but it will take time.”

"That's good to know. I hope it takes a long... long time." Iniara smiled softly, her eyes almost fluttering shut again. Now, for the first time in her life, she could just let her mental shields go, without having to worry about the onslaught of thousands of nearby minds. "I'm enjoying the break already."

"Other than the quiet, how do you feel?" Kimberly asked.

"Nice. Peaceful," Iniara responded, clearly still fixated on her newfound mental clarity. Her headache was beginning to subside as well, and for that she was eternally grateful. "But I do have one question. When the others... were in my head, did I do something wrong?"

“I don’t have all the details about what happened when the Dithparu were aboard, but to my knowledge no, why?” Kimberly asked as she picked up a tricorder and unclipped the scanner.

"Then why am I being restrained?"

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly shook her head and checked the bed, “The restraining field isn’t on Lieutenant,” she informed her.

Iniara's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Then why can't I move?"

Running the scanner over Tarin Kimberly's brow furrowed as she checked, "give me a moment Lieutenant," she asked in a patient voice.

Iniara looked down, forcing her eyes to try and look at the rest of her body. Feet, legs, torso, hands, arms... "I'm all here," she breathed, thankful that from this perspective she looked whole.

She focused on a hand. One hand. She then examined the digits. Her eye sockets began to throb with the effort, but she forced herself to continue. One, two, three, four, five. They were all there, attached to the hand lying neatly beside her hip. She concentrated harder. Harder. A moment later, one finger twitched.

"Oh no." The finger twitched again, then went still. "No. Prophets, no. What's happened...why can't I..." Iniara's voice increased in volume, fear slowly creeping in between the words.

"Why can't I..." Iniara's pupils dilated and her nostrils began to flare as fear turned into terror. Desperately she tried to reach out to the doctor. Her shoulder spasmed with the effort, causing her arm to slide off the edge of the bio bed. "Oh prophets you have to help me, why can't I move why can't I move!" Iniara could feel the limb hanging there, limp and useless, but she couldn't seem to make it move.

"Nurse," Kimberly called out, "I need a little assistance here please."

Iniara's head swayed to the side. She focused on the sound of Kimberly's voice, matching it up to the person. Now she could see a face. A real face. "Doctor...please, you have to help me!" she screeched. Gritting her teeth she tried to lift herself off the biobed. A determined growl forced itself out as she struggled upward; one centimetre, then two, then three.

The growl turned into a scream as she pushed higher. Pain exploded in her abdomen as she forced the muscles there to work again. She ignored the pain. She didn't care. She had to sit up. No matter how hard it was, she had to move.

And then, it stopped. The screaming turned into a weak choking noise, then fizzled out altogether. Iniara's face relaxed from its contortions and she flopped back weakly onto the bed, unconscious. Whatever momentum she had built up had apparently given out.

Hypo in hand Kimberly paused before giving Inara the relaxant she had swiftly prepared, brushing her air back again she spoke softly, “It’s going to be a little while before you’re up and running around again I’m afraid,” putting the hypo down she picked up her tricorder again and turned to the nurse, “call a physical therapist please, I think we should have an action plan fleshed out before she wakes again, so we have something positive to tell her.”

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