"Bored"

Ensign Zev Raynor
"Intelligence" Officer

Raynor woke up as he always did... there was no noticable shift from unconsciousness to consciousness. As always he left no sign for one to tell the difference. His eyes were already open. He did not snore. He didn't even move for the first minute as he reached out with his senses, no change except in his brain waves and even then it was hardly noticable.

Once making sure the room was empty, as per usual... for some reason they had yet to make him bunk up with another officer, as per usual for junior officers. He had also made the decision to go into REM sleep the night before to complete his more than slightly late report on the last mission, especially what had happened during the rescue. He went over to the desk to go check his work for any errors, though he suspected he wouldn't find any.

Consciously controlling the unconscious body was always difficult for him, though it was a required skill he had to learn inorder to even be considered as an Ronin Second Class, .

He wasn't an officer there anymore, but it was a still a useful skill for making up time.

REM sleep. The state of sleep in which normal humans needed to remain sane. But it was usually after getting a night's real sleep that Raynor seemed to be the most tired. Nightmares from his past spoke to him then, and the images were always unpleasent.

~You should really try coffee to help with that hang over Zevy boy, unless you're planning on reporting in drunk...~ Madden whispered with his oh so sinister, and demented voice.

But with the comment Raynor only sighed... "Where have you been?"

~Enjoy the silence...~ was Madden's only response and he was gone again.

Recently Madden had become more of an minor irritant that a tormentor. And appearances were sporatic... ever since the Dithparu incident, but he wasn't sure of why. He was however grateful for that fact, at the moment, though he supposed he would have to look into it more closely later.

Still it was nice to go weeks without having to hear his voice inside his head trying to tempt him into doing this and that. After finishing looking over his work for error which he found only one, but that was more of a wording choice than anything, he transfered to a padd, and put that on his desk with his standard encryptions.

Somewhere in a month or two, it would be printed on a paper media up in some obsercue location. Well more like a dozen obsercue locations, in case for whatever reason their computer system had been comprimised, which was surprisingly easy to do these days.

What was on the schedule... Romulan funeral in Romulan space... Carrying around a bunch of Jem'Hadar refugees into Romulan space... Not dying... Handing in his report... Waiting for the other shoe to drop... And oh yes, get around to actually putting on that stupid radio show which he had been putting off for months now...

The probelm was he didn't know enough about the crew to actually do this... general music tastes for one thing would be important... Another was the fact that he didn't exactly have a personality for the Radio host that would last long. Third... he had angry parents to deal with so all of his humour, if he decided to be humourous would have to be acceptable for "virgin" ears. He really doubted anyone still had those on this ship, but he would have cater to that audience as well, or face the wrath of angry parent mob.

Not that an angry parent mob wouldn't be fun to deal with... but avoiding unnecessary conflict with parents would probably not be a bad idea.

Still he had to get on that...

He walked over to the replicator... mircowave of the 24th century... asked for the all around balanced nurtution he would need for the entire day... a combat ration. Not that he like combat rations, but he was at the point were he didn't care one way or another.

He scratched his ass, waiting for the combat ration to replicate itself out. Breath in, breath out... no rush... yet the ever present need to have things immediately as bred into humanity through years upon years of exposure to technology. The simple things you always end up wanting faster. Even if it gets there instantaneously... you still want it there faster. Raynor fought this impaitence inbred into him, for the 5 seconds of waiting he endured...

He stared at the wall of his windowless quarters... the walls of the living area painted a dull kind of white with white posters on top... well... the posters weren't completely white... they had black text on them, each one having a different saying... each one written in a different lanuage...

As per usual, he read each one while munching on his ration... when suddenly it hit him... he was bored.

But he decided this was a good thing... if he was having fun at all, the ship would probably be put into the a dangerous situation in which he would have to do 90% of the work to pull it out of that situation.

That wasn't fun... not fun at all... but also not boring.

He sighed... put on his now 100 lbs. arm bands... and his 150 lbs. leg weights, and exitted onto the corridor... bored.

"Klingon Motivational Speaking"

Commander Kol, First Officer
Lieutenant Tarin Iniara, Operations Manager

----------------
Tarin's Quarters
Deck Nine
----------------

It was not often that Commander Kol was kept waiting outside of a junior officer's quarters. To put it mildly, it tried his patience. Still, as it was the middle of the night, he supposed that would explain it.

However, that was hardly an excuse he would accept. "Lieutenant," he said, pressing the override. "If you do not acknowledge and allow me entrance, I will have to presume something is wrong with you and override your lock."

Inside, Iniara rolled her eyes again as she pulled her clothes on as quickly as she could. Having a shower cut short by the door chime was irritating enough; adding the difficulties of hastily pulling a uniform onto a useless set of legs only compounded the frustration. Plus, the ship's XO was the one ringing the chime. She could hardly wait to catch grief from the huge Klingon for taking too long to answer the door.

After zipping up her jacket, Iniara began the awkward process of actually getting in her grav chair. She was still barefoot, but as always fixing that would have to wait until she was actually seated. "Enter!"

Satisfied, he strode into Tarin's quarters to find her exactly as he expected - struggling to get into her hoverchair. His disapproving frown drew the ridges on his forehead even tighter. "Lieutenant." he acknowledged. "Why are you getting into that chair?"

"I use this to move around, sir," she replied, snatching up her boots and tugging them on as quickly as she could. Looking up into the Klingon's face once more she continued. "I am still unable to walk. My legs are useless. And as long as they refuse to work, I am dependent on this chair."

"That is not what your report from medical says." the Klingon replied. "According to the Doctor, this is all in your mind. It is not acceptable behavior for a prospective first officer."

As he spoke, Iniara bit the inside of her lip so she wouldn't say something she would regret. She wanted to give him a retort about the difference between 'hypothesis' and 'conclusive diagnosis', or some line about 'if it was really in my head wouldn't I have figured that out by now' or something equally sarcastic. But instead she remained silent, forcing herself to compose her thoughts, to figure out a way not to piss off a superior officer.

She replied after several seconds had passed, doing her best to keep the creeping frustration out of her voice. "I agree, sir. I live for the day when I can get out of this chair and stand on my own two feet. If it were only that simple."

"It is." he rumbled.

"No, it isn't."

"bo-roQah!" Kol thundered, using a Klingon term very similar to the Terran word 'bullshit'. The meaning wasn't lost on Iniara. "You will no longer be permitted to bring that.. chair to duty on the bridge."

"Then how do you propose I get to the bridge without it?" Iniara replied, her eyes narrowing. "Would you prefer I crawl to my duty station?"

"The Doctors say you do not need it. Therefore, you will not use it." he said simply, and folded his arms across his chest.

"Denying a crewmember the use of a medical device. I have a feeling Captain Henderson would not agree with your methods, sir. Perhaps we should consult him."

"Crew discipline is my responsibility, Lieutenant. Not the Captain's.

Your situation is far too inconsequential to bother him with."

It was quickly going to become his problem, she thought, if the conversation continued in this vein. Flashes of violence shot through her head, fantasies of standing, walking up to the Klingon, and proceeding to take out all her anger and frustration on him. After all the lost months, first in a coma and now stuck like this, she figured she had more than enough energy stored up to give him a run for his money...at least until he beat her senseless, that is. That would definitely make it onto the Captain's desk.

Forcing the thoughts back down, Iniara spoke again. "Well. According to your mandate, I must be up and walking within the next seven or so hours. Now how do you suggest I accomplish this?"

"I would suggest you start by trying, Lieutenant." he replied.

She sighed loudly, no longer able to contain her irritation. "Sir, I've been trying ever since I woke up from the coma. All the medical personnel I've dealt with since then seem to think I'm trying too hard, not that I need to try harder.

"I have dreams of the day when I can finally get rid of this accursed chair. Ensign T'Val and Doctor Burton probably wish I would improve so I could stop haunting Sickbay as much as I do. Commander Corgan is no doubt irritated because a member of his Hazard Team is out of commission indefinitely. And I know the Captain would like nothing more than to see his Ops Chief back to full operating capacity. The department is stretched enough without its leader being on restricted duty.

"But none of that is going to change the simple fact that, right now, I still cannot walk," Iniara continued, drawing the last few words out for emphasis. "And it also does not change the fact that you are in my quarters in the middle of the night, harassing me about a medical condition I can do nothing about. That, sir, is definitely something that should be brought to Captain Henderson's attention."

"Feel free. I believe you will find that your commbadge has been temporarily disconnected." Kol replied, and folded his arms in front of the door. "So if you wish to inform the Captain of this, then I am afraid you will have to get past me to do it."

Iniara tapped her commbadge anyway. Nothing. She didn't even bother trying it a second time. "Very well. If what you wanted was to see a puny half-breed woman humiliate herself, you should have just asked." She gritted her teeth and fixed her eyes on the huge Klingon once more. Then, gripping the arms of her hoverchair she pushed against them, slowly and awkwardly bringing herself towards a standing position. The entire process took nearly half a minute.

From this vantage point Kol seemed no less huge, and she had to grab a nearby shelving unit for support as she continued to glare at him. When she spoke again her voice was low, strained. "Now. If you would please step aside, Commander."

Kol's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise as she pulled it off. "Very good, Lieutenant." he said, the fact that he was impressed clearly carrying through in his voice. Then, naturally, he turned and head for the door. "Have a good night, Lieutenant Tarin."

Iniara just stood there, her jaw hanging open, as she watched the Klingon depart.

"Shower Debacle"

By: Ensign Aren Furai
Flight Officer Ember Lansky

===--===

~Maybe I've been working out too much, lately~ thought Aren Furai as she wrapped her towel around the back of her neck and stepped out of the gym and into the female shower room. Ever since her reassignment to the Galaxy she had either been performing her duties on the bridge, exercising in the gym, eating in ten-forward, or sleeping in her quarters.

There hadn't been much more than that, and aside from a few people she had met here and there, the young Hiigaran hadn't had much of a chance to build many friendships. In the absence of activity, she usually found herself with too much energy and not enough places to spend it, so she either ran through various decks aboard ship, or worked out in the gym.

That in itself was almost a futile attempt as the petite girl had almost no great aptitude for strength or endurance. She had seen many of the Jem'Hadar wandering about and could almost guess that it wouldn't take much for any one of them to overpower her. Of course, none of them seemed to resemble the cold murderers she had heard about while at the Academy.

Walking towards her locker she grabbed a clean towel and stepped into the shower room. Nobody else was there, which was nice because despite her many experiences on board packed starships, she usually tried to protect her modesty wherever possible.

Activating the hydro-shower first, Aren moved to a nearby bench and stripped herself of her uniform. As soon as she returned, she felt the wash of hot water flow across her body as all the sweat and tension melted into relaxation.

Ember walked into the shower room, spent from her work out in the gym. As tired as she was, with her muscles protesting, the adrenaline was still pumping through her blood and she felt invigorated. She enjoyed the physical exertion, not only because it made her feel alive, but also because she enjoyed pushing herself to her limits, testing the boundaries, expanding the possibilities. It helped too that her vigorous routines built up the strength she needed for her martial arts.

The room was empty save for a girl. The spray of warm water suddenly looked extremely inviting. Hardly self-conscious at all, she peeled off the clothes from her sweat-soaked body and stepped into the shower. It felt good, and she closed her eyes, throwing her head back and dashing the hair from her forehead as she relished the sensation of the water washing over her.

Aren felt as though the shower room suddenly got very, very small. Her shoulders shifted up slightly as the tenseness running through her body returned, not out of exhaustion but nervousness. After a second to adjust, she finally started to relax again and continued washing herself. Running her fingers through the wet clunks of hair that had grown long enough to touch between her shoulder plates, she felt the last of any sweat and grime leave her. In a few moments she'd activate the sonic shower and let the waves pulse over her body, drying her.

She looked over to the other woman, and immediately recognized her as one of the pilots she had seen in the corridors from time to time. Aren wasn't the best at remembering names, but this woman's was hard to forget... something about the way it sounded. ~Lansky~ She finally recalled, ~Ember Lansky~

While she had never actually met the pilot in actual conversation, she had heard enough to realize that making friendly conversation wasn't always easy. Apparently there was a poll running amongst the enlisted personnel as to who she'd eventually sleep with, with rumors of her

flirtatious if not dangerous habits. There was even a rumor that Aren's

boss had already won, but since he wasn't here it couldn't be confirmed.

Not like it... bothered her anyways. But it certainly gave her a different perception with someone so free minded when it came to relationships of any kind.

"See something you like?" Ember suddenly spoke, her voice perhaps made more jarring than intended with the muted echo and enclosed confines of the shower room. She looked at the slight girl appraisingly. In Aren's curiosity, she had stared longer than she had realized, and even if Ember tended not to bother with the other people surrounding her, it was hard not to be piqued at a person's prolonged scrutiny. She wasn't offended. If anything, she seemed amused, wondering if she had hit the nail on the head, or if there was some other reason for the interest Aren paid her.

Aren jolted herself, quickly looking in another direction as she tried fruitlessly to keep herself from turning red. "Sorry, I was just thinking... I uh... didn't realize I was still looking at you." She stammered, wishing she had kept "still" out of it. Aren wasn't very natural when under pressure or surprise. She tried to finish cleaning herself up, activating the sonic shower and waiting while her soaked body was rapidly dried to perfection.

Now here was where Aren was in even more trouble, an old habit she hadn't been able to break since childhood. If it moved, her eyes were there. In a completely motionless shower room where the only other moving object was another woman, she had to keep bring her eyes back center from time to time.

It was hard not to find the situation funny. The woman was clearly embarrassed and shy beyond belief, yet, at the same time, she couldn't keep from looking. Ember chuckled inwardly, already thinking of the mischief that could be had, no matter her intentions.

"I guess I should be flattered, hmm?" She asked in a soft drawl, suddenly appearing right next to Aren. A sheen of water still glistened on Ember's bare skin, and droplets of water fell from her wet strands of hair to her lightly tanned shoulders. It was amazing to think she could look like a water sprite and a sultry temptress all at once.

Aren heaved a slight sigh, realizing now more than ever that it probably wasn't a good idea to work out today. She was even more confused by how Ember had come right down upon her unexpectantly. "Uhm..." she replied quietly, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you think I was watching you. I just remembered seeing you from earlier,

I guess I was thinking about what I've heard about you..." She stopped again, followed with a gigantic stammer.

Certainly she was digging her own grave here. She wanted to just grab her cloths and run.

It was a little hard for her to make her escape, considering she would have to collide directly with Ember to do that. Not to mention that Ember was standing so close and coming closer still. Pushing the believability of the act up a notch, Ember's voice dropped to a feathery whisper as she lowered her head, her warm breath brushing across Aren's skin as she spoke. "Really? And what is it that they say about me?"

Aren's skin began to crawl with a sort of electricity she couldn't have anticipated, nor comprehend. Lansky was so close that it made her feel incredibly uncomfortable, nervous that someone would come in and assume the wrong thing. Of course, part of her was hoping for an interruption as it would likely save her from this awkward situation. "Umm..." Aren began, her body unconsiously taking steps backwards until there was no where else to escape to unless she could break through walls, which in Aren's case, was incredibly doubtful. "...can I plead the fifth?" She asked.

Ember certainly struck her as someone who intentionally makes their life unpredictable, and whether this was some sort of sick joke on her behalf or not, Aren didn't want to find her in the way of the woman's wrath by spouting off every rumor that was running across the ship about her.

Ember pressed her palm against the wall behind Aren. She was taller than the petite girl, built more athletically, and her stance now scarily made her resemble a predator that had her prey cornered. But unlike a predator, the smile that played at Ember's lips contained no malice. It was amused, purposeful like she was enjoying every moment and there was yet a plan up her sleeve that the girl could only watch unfold, willing or not. "I'm afraid not… you see, you've gotten me…." Ember paused over her next word, bending her head next to Aren's, speaking softly beside her ear. "Intrigued." The word breathed out like a spell of seduction, inescapable.

Aren went wide-eyed, a sharp gasp escaping her breath as she pressed herself harder into the wall behind her. There really was no where left to go. Tilting her head as to create some distance between the two of them, she shook her head in small, slight motions. "No..." she whimpered, too nervous to do anything else. The brush of Ember's wet body against hers sent strange chills across her body, an excitement that Aren couldn't handle.

Suddenly, Aren felt smaller, insignificant compared to the huntress tormenting her. She couldn't decide what to do, and stood there completely frozen against time and pressure.

"You can tell me, I won't get angry… I promise," She whispered. Her voice, so deliberately nuanced, was like a soft serpent that coiled around Aren, and the promise of enticement grew closer as Ember brushed her lips gently against her ear. It was like the touch of a butterfly, fleeting but electrifying. Then, continuing the game and pushing it just a bit further along to the edge, the moist tip of Ember's tongue grazed tantalizingly against her skin, tracing the top curve of her ear in a gentle caress.

"NOOO!" Aren closed her eyes as tightly as she could, raised her shoulders tensely, and with every amount of thrust she could afford pushed her arms hard in front of her. They made an abrupt contact with the soaked Ember Lansky, and did exactly the opposite of what Aren would have expected... they carried enough force to push her down. Ember tumbled onto the ground with a wet thud, sliding across the floor a little due to the slippery surface.

Before she could have realized what had happened, Aren did the only thing she could. With tears in her eyes, she grabbed her cloths and ran out of the shower room as fast as possible. She wanted to get out of there, quick. Too scared to even consider the fact that there would be little in regards to her wishful modesty when she broke through the doors.

She didn't care, she just kept running. All the way to her quarters, two decks down.

Even though Ember had a sore butt, she couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling up out of her throat. She bent over, clutching her stomach as the hilarity of the situation hit in full. ~Well well, guess there's a girl who couldn't take a joke.~ And she hadn't even had to do *anything*. What she wouldn't give to see the shocked faces of the people who would see a naked girl running madly away from the shower room. For a moment, just one moment, she felt the sting of guilt. But…

The sight was priceless, absolutely priceless.

"Come fly with me" - PART ONE

Ensign Furai - Flight Control officer
Ensign Kio - Medical officer
Ensign Zev Raynor - "Intelligence" Officer

Holosuite 4

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

Apparently, socially interrogating with the crew was paramount to a successful career on the Galaxy. At least this was the opinion of the various councillors who had tackled Kio’s Vulcan "personality problem”. She would have been lying to her-self, as she had often done in the past, if she claimed no interest in having acquaintances upon the ship. But someone to debate the higher plains of philosophy with over a herbal tea was a far cry from sitting around in ten forward poking fun at the failings of various unfortunate crew members on past, ill fated, away missions.

So she found her-self volunteering to run a class upon a suggestion from another Vulcan crewmember. He had said that, impossible as it was to enter into the “fun and games” of other humanoids, it was entirely possible to form relationships with them through the sharing of knowledge and ideals. So Kio let it be known that she would run a class in a holosuite teaching the ancient art of Vulcan kite making.

Dressed in a traditional robe and standing in the serene setting of a mountain oasis which she remembered from her childhood she awaited her students with growing concern. It was not in her nature to worry about such things…but what if no-one should choose to attend? It had taken valuable time from her off-duty hours when she should have been studying and meditating to arrange everything required.

A warm breeze ruffled the bottom of her robe about her legs and she felt a little foolish. To divert her-self from such an emotional train of thought she began to rearrange the already perfectly arranged little piles of cut wood, paints and silk.

If there was anything that excited Aren more... it was to fly kites. A hobby she had never been able to pick up on board an evacuation transport during the great exodus, she had tried it on earth and fell in love with it. The beautiful clash of colours against a clear blue sky was inspiring, and relaxing.As the holodeck doors hissed to an open, Aren was surprised by the...climate. It certainly wasn't Earth norm, much more blistering in fact. She shielded her face against the searing hot sun hovering over this holographic world, wincing as she scanned the horizon for her tutor.

Raynor as usual was wandering. Raynor was also as usual appeared to be lost. And late for his shift... but that was more on purpose. It had only started an hour ago; it would be another hour before they started yelling at him over the comms, when he saw the holosuite display.

'Vulcan Kite Making...' he wondered if he had anything better to do. After about a minute of thought he decided not really and walked through the door.

Kio had begun to plan an afternoon of private study and was therefore a little surprised at the actual arrival of two students but she greeted them as she had planned, serenely bowing to them both and motioning for them to take a seat, cross-legged, in the sand in front of the low wooden tables bedecked with her carefully arranged materials. She was no expert but it seemed to her that the woman was very happy to be there but the man looked distinctly uncomfortable, looking over his shoulder as if he would rather be somewhere else. “We will start with the metaphysics and spiritual symbolism of this art,” She begun, her carefully planned lesson swinging straight into action.

“The release from our physical form can be experienced as flying…”

Aren was just now starting to adjust to the heat, no longer needing to shield her face from the occasional blasts of hot air, however she wished she wore something a little looser to promote better airflow through her body. In her standard uniform, it wasn't going to take long for her to be soaked in her own sweat.

Glancing over towards Raynor, the man she had met just a day prior, Aren nudge his arm when it seemed painfully obvious he hadn't even noticed her yet. "Hey..." she began, "sorry about leaving you so soon... but I just wasn't sure if I was ready to lay my life down for you back there."

He laughed quietly, while paying attention to the class at hand.

Strictly speaking, a student on Vulcan never spoke to another during a class and even as she started to correct their behaviour Kio remembered that this was not Vulcan, was in fact apparently for her own benefit- as well as theirs.

She suspected that they had not taken in much of her impressive opening speech and were both much more interested in the colourful silks and sticks of wood. So she took a deep breath and changed tactics.

“By the end of the lesson today we will each have created a kite which we will then test in the wind. Try and focus on an image that represents a part of your life or…(and here she paused, daring her-self to break her people’s own rules) …an emotion you have been feeling… this we will make airborne.”

Approximately two hours later they had all created… something.

Aren played with the product of her own creativity, raising it up and down as to test the overall integrity. It was shaped in a sort of terran/vulcan hybrid based on the instructions she received from Kio, splashed with a warm and colorful haze of orange and yellow.

It might have seemed like an odd freak of nature to anybody else, but to Aren the idealist... it was perfect. She rose it again in a sort of childish pride, grinning. "Finished." she exclaimed proudly.

Raynor's kite had actually managed to look completely Vulcan in shape... but his choice of colours were unusual as they were, in the sipritual sense, dark. A vast foray of blacks, reds, and golds covered the kite, but front and centre two words were written. "Pariah" written in a golden celestial script on top, "Ronin" painted in a bloody red japanese underneath.

His eyes had gone completely dark for the entire lesson... as they always seemed to whenever he was working on any piece... and even then, upon completing the work, he simply regarded with an unerving stare, letting his eyes follow the endless flow it had about it... trying to find the meaning within himself of what his choices for the piece meant...

And then after a minute he put on his smile and said... "I'm ready to take this little bad boy for a spin..." Aren looked over towards his kite, examining it carefully before reflecting back towards her own. She hadn't thought to write anything on it, and naturally the perfect idea came up. In her native language, she quickly wrote the words: "Je Keta nu, Sal'te" meaning "From a great venture, sanctuary." They were the first words by their leader when they discovered their new homeworld. There... now it was finished. "Me too." She replied quickly, looking up to Kio to see her response.

Kio had been both pleasantly surprised and a little unsettled by the creations before her. Neither student had been clumsy and inept in their construction and both seemed quick to learn from her. Their approaches, although unorthodox, were intriguing and it was clear that Ensign Furai had some previous experience and that Ensign Raynor possessed a latent artistic talent.

But whereas the kite Ensign Furai had constructed held an unusual beauty the dark mass in the hands of her fellow student was profoundly disturbing. There was clearly a reason, she thought, that a Vulcan art should not be expressed emotionally.

Holding her own perfectly constructed kite she inspected both of her students finished work. “Although perfection could not be expected you have completed the task adequately.” Was all she said, and then remembering her mantra she generously added: “Well done.”

“Now the real test will be to fly these kites, I have re-created a plain I remember well from my childhood.” She gestured out of the arch into the desert plain beyond which had now fallen under the shadow of dusk.

"Relationship's Backpay"

By: Pilot Ayden O'Connor
& Flight Officer Ember Lansky

==--==

"You're finally here," Ember chided teasingly with a soft smile with the holodeck doors opened.

She had been waiting for a while, and even though it did not reflect on her face, her feelings had been in a tangle, finding no relief in every minute that passed by. The program she had loaded made for a perfect setting for a date, with waves gently lapping at the shore under the starry sky. The gentle music that played in the background seemed only to add to the peacefulness of the beach. And not too far off in the dis! tance, a blanket had been laid out over the white sand, cozy enough for two with cushions and an array of tantalizing food spread over the area.

As rough-and-tumble as she preferred to be, Ember had even dressed the part in a tropical print sundress that dipped low in the back. She had stripped off her shoes and stood barefooted. Everything was gorgeous, perhaps *too* gorgeous, which explained the discomfort in her stomach she felt all through waiting. She would be far more at ease exchanging sparring blows with him, than exchanging toasts of champagne. This felt too intimate, and it set her uneasy, unsure of how far along this would nudge them in their relationship when it was over.

Perhaps she owed it to him. After pushing him away at every turn, and at times, spurning his affections, this was her way of showing that in some small way, she did enjoy being with him. She just didn't have a habit of expressing that sentiment in mushy, goose-bump-inducing platitudes.

Ayden hadn't known what to expect when he received Ember's sudden invitation to join her at the holodeck. In truth, neither of them had spoken much after their rescue from the crash, almost as if an invisible wall had suddenly erected between them. The seclusion had given him time to clear his head, although his relationship with Ember failed to leave his thoughts. The on/off style relationship they had followed since his reassignment had given him a lot to think about, and even after everything they had been through in recent times, he was finally starting to question his own motivations to be with her.

When he entered the through the double doors onto the romantic paradise of a simulation, he immediately noticed Ember's small figure looming against the starry moonlight. The steady sway of the blue ocean blended into a glittering sky, was very creative and immediately set the tone for what! would be an interesting night. After all, he hadn't given up on Ember quite yet.

"And I had expected a pair of Bat'leths…" he half joked, taking in the fullness of the scenery. "You look wonderful." It was probably the second or third time he had ever seen her wearing something as exotic as she was now, and to say that she looked any less stunning would be a lie. She looked absolutely amazing.

She laughed as some of her reservations began to dissolve. It was uncanny how he could be both the source of her fears as well as the solution. "Well, how do you know they aren't hidden in the picnic basket?" She winked playfully. "Not to mention, I probably have a pair of daggers tucked away…" Her gaze slipped down to scan her body, as though searching for a convincing place she could conceal them in, and chuckled. "Erm, pressed up against the soles of my feet?"

Ayden chuckled, moving forward until he was a few feet from her. The way th! e gentle night wind coursed through her hair, while steady moonlight danced across her face made everything almost surreal. As much as he wanted to take her hands in his, to caress her, kiss her… he resisted.

~Maybe you're hiding them in your heart~ he thought, recalling Ember's stark unpredictability whenever it came to being close to him. Looking back towards the soft waves pulsing through the sandy beach, the gentle glow of the moon brought as much mystery to their surroundings as there was between them.

Would she disappear with the sunrise?

He laid his attention back to Ember, her every effort to hide her nervous smile from him made obvious. Her unnatural reaction made him question her place in this affair, whether she was looking for the same thing he was, or rather something else. "So what's the occasion?" He asked softly, his voice barely overcoming the crashing waves. That he came so close, but didn't touch her didn't ! go unnoticed. Even though she was aware she might be reading too deeply into something that probably meant nothing, it chafed. She had no right to feel the tendrils of rejection she was feeling now, given how she had treated him on several past occasions. But still, she had never really been on the receiving end, until now. She suddenly realized how it felt, and it didn't feel good.

Trying to dispel those unsettling feelings, she put her arms around him, tiptoeing gently to kiss him on the lips. It was unhurried, and she slowly, deliciously, lengthened the kiss, wanting to focus only on the beauty of the moment, than on the desperately shaky ground they both seemed to be standing on.

When she broke away, she smiled, the impish glint in her eye revealing her untainted playfulness. "Do I need an occasion to do something special for you?" She paused, biting her lower lip in mock thoughtfulness. "Because I'm sure I could think of something… like, 'Bait A Man Day', 'Ghastly Witchly Sacrifice Under the Moonlight Day' or…" She could barely keep from laughing as she flew with her outrageous ideas, but she lowered her voice to a whisper, some seriousness taking over. "Or 'Be Sweet to Your Man Day', for once," She couldn't help but add, her mischief flaring again.

Ayden's resolve took a hard twist as he considered her agenda. It was as if he were being torn in two directions, the first of which would lay the two of them against the sandy beach, the second of which would wait and see where she wanted to take this.

Nevertheless, being able to enjoy the taste of her for that moment was perhaps one of the few things he could savor more than her presence. Carefully, he spread his arms around the small of her back and cradled her with a taste of intimacy. "Well that would certainly be a nice change of pace…" he regarded towards her, "although I'll have to admitI never knew you had it in you… the simulation is a nice touch."

"All I had to do was refer to the database," She answered smoothly, and shrugged, as though it wasn't much. "I like the ocean." She more than liked it. Staring out at the sea was one of the rare times when she could be caught sitting still, not engaging in some physical activity or other. The waters – with their veneer of calm and their leashed turmoil – spoke to her like a kindred spirit.

"You might as well sit down and enjoy it," Ember smiled, interlacing her fingers with his and tugging him over to the blanket where the food lay.

Ayden followed, watching this new side of Ember with an inward grin. He hadn't seen any of this since his reassignment to the Galaxy, back when their encounters had been limited to subspace interaction. There was a tender touch to Ember, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be with her like this.

He decided to a! llow things to unfold based on what *she* wanted. Setting down on the blanket beside her, Ayden looked at the variety of foods that Ember brought, including a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She had certainly taken the time to set the mood.

"Why do you like the ocean?" He finally asked, as if to break the pleasant anxiety fueling them. There were moments he felt a surge of electricity roll through his body while he watched her, warming him.

"It's beautiful," She said simply, a smile curving her lips. "Sometimes, I look at it, and it has all the power to destroy, like things are just hanging in the balance, teetering on a knife edge. The moment of calm, the moment of rage." She glanced at him, watching his profile, unconsciously tracing her fingers along his arm, thinking how beautiful *he* looked. The feelings she could feel welled up in her throat, almost stealing her breath away as she looked fascinated at him. She joked, interrupting the momentary intensity again, "Kinda like how it is when I'm with you, don't you think?"

Ember cradled the bottle of champagne and popped the cork, her laughter joining the foam as it bubbled to the surface and some of it spilled onto the sand. Pouring the sparkling liquid into the two glasses, she then set the bottle back into the ice bucket, before clasping the glasses and handing one to him. "Let's make a toast, to…." She was at a loss, her eyes darting playfully to him as she looked to him for help.

Ayden cupped his own drink between his fingers, watching the bubbles fizzle their way towards the top before his gaze returned to Ember. As enjoyable as this evening was, part of him felt like he had been blind sided. She wasn't being anything like herself, the antagonistically sophisticated brunette with a fierce left hook. She was being sweet, returning the very affection he had sought so much for so long. ! So why couldn't he bring himself to say the words he wanted to?

With words that tasted as sour as they sounded, he finished her toast. "To good companions…"

Ember fought against the fleeting stab of disappointment at the words he had chosen – they were so platonic in nature, and so noncommittal. She hated this web of contradictions she had trapped herself in; when he expressed more for her, she couldn't control the feelings of panic that seized her, and when he slowed things down, she was… she had this sudden odd, sense of bereavement, as though she had lost something precious to her.

God, she didn't know what to do.

"To good companions…" She echoed, but the words sounded empty to her ears.

After tapping their glasses together, Ayden sipped on the sweet beverage, yet could find little satisfaction in its taste. Why couldn't he have just said what he wanted to say, "to us". He knew that any relationship with Em! ber would be rocky and rough on most days, but there were things about her that made it simply worth it.

"And congratulations on your promotion." He replied after a momentary pause, as if trying to make amends for his poor finish to their would-be romantic toast. "It's very much deserved…"

"It's nothing," She said off-handedly. If it had been anyone else, her reaction might have been mistaken as humility. But in Ember's case, she genuinely wasn't concerned about it. She wasn't in Starfleet so she could scale the ranks. The rank meant little to her; all it did was signify how much authority she had and over whom. It was something she could have fun with, but beyond that… "Means I get to order you around now, Pilot," She teased. Didn't that make for many interesting scenarios?

It took effort to keep the mood light-hearted, to prevent the doubts colliding inside her from clashing to the surface. Luckily, through practice or natura! l talent, Ember was skilled at concealing the emotions she felt and at showing a different façade. It shouldn't be difficult, but hiding herself from the person she cared about, that was a different matter altogether.

Ayden chuckled lightly, admittingly off balance after he realized exactly how correct she was. It hadn't occured to him that she outranked him, probably because he viewed her as an equal in so many ways that their careers in Starfleet really didn't matter anymore. It just wasn't in influence...

Graciously, he took a small piece of the foodbits and tossed it into his mouth. It was pretty tasty considering that while Ember was capable of many things, cooking was probably not one of them. He figured the green fruit was probably replicated, or gathered from the planet below. "And I suppose you'll want me to start calling you ma'm too..." he joked back, leaning closer out of instinct rather than awareness. "... back massag! es every night, breakfast in bed, that sort of thing?"

She tipped the glass gently and sipped the champagne, her gaze not leaving Ayden's face. "That would be letting you off too easy… you're forgetting the cleaning, scrubbing and menial chores I expect you to do around the house," She joked, wickedly adding, "In a uniform of my desire, at that. Something more… shall we say, flattering to your physique?"

Ayden laughed lightly as he started to feel a little more comfortable. Light hearted jokes and amusing puns were always a good release, especially when it came to the two of them. "Hmm..." he mused, "... I don't think I'd be quite that cruel if our situations were reversed." He replied, sticking his tongue out her. It was a pretty childish thing to do, but as long as it was in her company alone, he didn't mind. "Although I do think I still have that picture of you in that crazy catsuit somewhere, who knows... I wonder how much I c! ould get for that one if I tried selling it to the crew. Let's see, over a thousand... multiplied by thirty credits equals..."

She laughed, giving a blithe shrug, feigning nonchalance when he reminded her of the time she cheekily donned the costume, just for the fun of it. "Go ahead. I'm sure you'll earn a hefty profit, considering how delectable I looked." Lengths of black leather, with cheesy puffs of fur could hardly be considered the height of fashion, but she was determinedly unfazed and stuck her tongue out right back at him. "Just remember to give me a cut of whatever you earn."

Ayden laughed in return for a few moments until the two managed to settle themselves down enough. His eyes quickly settled into hers, as he fruitlessly tried to find any reason why he shouldn't just let go of his doubts and reservations. When it all came down to it, Ember was the greatest woman he had ever known. She was interesting, engaging, a! nd more than willing to hold her ground whenever deserved.

He just smiled at her, taking another piece of the fruit from the plate. It had been one of the only things he had tried since they sat down, and he already liked it enough to go back to. "We'll see about that..." he replied smoothly, raising the piece of fruit and holding it near her mouth, waiting for her to accept it.

It was really a beautiful setting, and gazing into his eyes now, there was nowhere else she would rather be at this moment. It seemed complete, in a way she couldn't express with words and words alone. Her voice turned softer, gentler. "You're making me work to negotiate for that cut, aren't you? Need I remind you that you wouldn't have it without me?" She cooed, leaning closer towards him, her lips closing over the fruit and gently tugged so he released it. But she didn't let go, drawing his finger into her mouth along with it and lingered, as she continued! to hold his gaze. In her eyes, he could read part-playfulness, part-desire.

A very sudden rise occured in Ayden's arousal, feeling his finger surrounded by Ember's warm soft lips. The fact that this hadn't occured earlier, and without the tempo from which Ember had previously carried her own desires meant something. This wasn't the abrupt sexual course that she had followed with him in the past, filled with a vague intensity that would die down as soon as he responded to her intentions.

He couldn't think anymore, and after a few hopeless efforts at trying, gave up all together. His free hand cupped her cheek, drawing her close even while her lips remained locked around his finger. In a gentle motion, he raised her until they could both feel each other's breaths washing upon their faces. She hovered over his body in a near straddle, the thin tropical dress blowing lightly against the ocean breeze.&nbs! p; Shifting his hand towards the back of her neck, he slowly pulled his finger from her mouth, while pressing his lips upon hers in a gentle, yet quick gesture.

This time, he wasn't worried about what she would do next. It didn't matter anymore.

If it had been any other kiss by any other person, she might have been able to resist. But this, with its untold tenderness somehow managed to seep through the mile-thick walls Ember had erected around her heart. No matter how hard she had tried, somehow, some way, he had always managed to get around her defenses. Maybe, the truth she should have recognized long ago, was that he had resided there all along, from the very beginning.

Feeling his lips warm against hers, her hands moved around his waist to hold him close. And suddenly, she realized she was tired of rejecting the sweetness that enticed her, tired of pushing him away, tired of holding the walls up. There was only! one thing left to do.

She surrendered.

"Fried Wires"

By: Pilot Ayden O'Connor, Pilot
Lt. (jg) Nara Roswell, Engineer

*****Ayden's Quarters*****

Ayden wasn't the kind of guy to drink coffee right next to his console, but for some reason while he was reviewing his mission report from their crash, he just happened to be sipping down on the strong black mixture of caffeine. Of course, fate has a sense of humor whenever it happens to involve him. The beverage tilted, dipped, and spilled all over the computer.

With a sizzle, a crackle, and a spark of smoke... his console's colorful screen blinked into blackness. He set his now empty coffee cup on a nearby table and rapidly started pushing whatever buttons he could in order to get the damn thing working again, after all he had spent more than four hours working on that report (despite what little occured), and didn't like the idea of having to retype it.

When it seemed that an easy fix was impossible, ! he relucantly tapped his commbadge. Nothing like calling for tech support because you were an idiot. Heaving an audible sigh, "O'Connor to Engineering..."

*****Meanwhile, In Main Engineering*****

It was a relatively slow day in Main Engineering. The new command structure was starting to settle in and the drones of Engineering weren't as tense as when the change first occurred.

Nara actually found things less stressful since she didn't feel the need to prove herself to anyone anymore.

She still worked as hard as before, but she didn't feel as if any little mistake would set their new chief off.

So considering this slow day, the atmosphere was somewhat light. When a call came in from someone that he had spilt coffee and now his screen was black, a murmur of giggles, chuckles and snickers spread through the room. Even a good gufah was heard.

However, everyone watched to see who would get to answer the call.

Turned out it was Nara who just shrugged and picked up a kit and strode out the door.

A few minutes later, she entered a set of quarters and looked around, wondering if it was safe to make a joke. She just smiled laughing inside at the joke in her mind. Just because Engineering was having a good day didn't mean anyone else was.

Ayden noticed the newcomer wearing the mustanrd yellow uniform and carrying a small kit. Using his keen sense of awareness of those facts, and the timing, he made the daring assumption that she was the engineer who would (pray to God) fix his computer. Standing out of his seat, he walked over to her... the frustration written all over his face. "Hi... are you here to fix my console?"

Granted, he hadn't expected the engineer to be a she, nor so attractive. Suddenly a coffee spill didn't seem too bad, as long as everything was recoverable.

She smiled, "I am. First, we need to g! ! et in there and clean it out." She looked around and seeing the victim, walked over, "I assume the console that's smoking is the one that needs to be worked on."

Ayden chuckled, despite how much this whole bothersome situation was coming down at an inopportune time. "Well it's good to know that engineering sent me their very best and brightest." He replied in a jokingly fashion. "Yeah, that's the one... any chance that even if the console can't be salvaged that my files are still recoverable at least?"

She smiled warmly at him realizing he was flirting with her. "I'm sure I'm not the best or I'd had gotten promoted when O'Shea ran off."

She pulled off the panel to the console and wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt coffee, "As for the console, we can only hope the coffee didn't cause any shorts in the memory." She stood, walking over to another console, turning off power to the damaged one and walked back over, taking a tool from the kit and poked around, pushing wires aside, "Looks like it only got the power supply. Besides, if you saved the file, it should be in the main memory. And unless you disabled the autosave, you should at least have anything you wrote a minute or so before it drowned."

She then hovered a hand slightly over the opened console. "It's still quite hot, so I need to wait a bit before going in." She continued to poke around, looking at what she would need to replace. Nothing seemed too bad as long as she could clean it.

Ayden was relieved, "Well as long as my report is still in there somewhere, I'm happy. Frankly I don't find much motivation behind trying to write about getting blown out of the sky by a bunch of Jem'Hadar, making my way from one end of the map to the other, waiting to be rescued. If anybody wants to know what that was like, a free demonstration is available to the first person who tries flying over ther! ! e again." He paused for a second, "But if I'm going to have to write it, I'd rather only write it once... honestly, I usually never drink anything around these things just because they're so tempermental around liquids."

"Yea, electricity and liquid normally don't go well together." She hovered her hand over it again, letting it get closer and deciding it was cool enough, pulled out a cloth and sprayed it with something before running it along the wires and some of the components.

Ayden watched the engineer work while part of him felt worse about his mistake. Not because it put him behind schedule, but because it now required someone else's effort to fix it. It was exactly like when his past girlfriends would clean his quarters because he either couldn't, or wouldn't.

He felt like banging his head into the wall right now, but no... then that would require the doctor to break away from their own schedule to fix him up, ! and then! probably the counselor to find out what could have caused him to smack his head into a hardened wall in the first place. That would have been a waste of everybody's time.

"Yeah, well I'll need to get you back sometime. I know there are more important things for you to be doing, and I really appreciate you coming over here to help me out." He replied.

She paused at the amusing way he meant to say he owed her a favor. She smiled, not looking away from the panel and shrugged, "Part of the job."

Ayden chuckled, "Part of your job is to fix my mistakes? Wow if I knew that I would have signed on earlier." He joked. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She understood how he felt and she tried to think of something as she grimaced at the chunk of crusty coffee between the wire and the side of the panel. ~Poor baby.~ She thought to the console.

She remembered something she noticed when she opened the kit. "Could you ! go in ! the kit and dig me out a few thin blue wires? The last guy mixed it all up."

Nodding, Ayden ventured over to the small kit and rummaged through the collection until he found a small bundle of materials the blue wires she wanted. Picking a few out, he returned to the engineer. "Here you go."

She muttered a thanks, not reaching out as she had already started concentrating on cutting away the bad wires. She added to her mutter, "Protective casing melted. Having these touch each other would create quite a nice shock once power comes back on."

Ayden nodded with a slight smile. The visual of the young engineer cooked to the standard of a crispy chicken wasn't as appealing, "Well let's not do that then, I'd hate to have to call in the doctor to help the engineer."

She smiled, "No offense, but I doubt anyone here knows how to get in the system to turn it on. So I'm sure we're safe."

"Is that your final answer?" Ayden! joked, wa! tching her finish her work on the console. If this didn't work and his report had been erased, he would at least have to wait until *after* she leaves before he goes off.

After several moments, she had the new wires soldered in, and she was doing some final examination on the console before she finally leaned back, stood up and walked over to another console. "Back away, I'm about to run power back to it."

She ran her fingers over the console and then looked over at the console. "No smoke. That's a good sign." She walked back over, taking the same stick tool and poking around a bit, "Things look good in the guts." She stood and pressed some buttons on the console and it colorfully came to life. A triumphant smile came to her lips. She resisted the urge to do the happy dance.

She stepped aside with the same smile to look at him, waving to the console, "Check your file."

Ayden grinned, thinking that if this all ! worked out ! he would definately owe the engineer a bottle of... well... something. His fingers sailed across the console and surely enough, the report was listed. Opening it only took a second, as the fullness of his after action review appeared on the screen. He turned his attention towards Nara, "I owe you a debt of gratitude, plus some." He replied, relief worn across his smile.

She smiled back, "Well, like I said, it was part of the job, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth." She winked at him still in a wonderful mood. Since O'Shea left, she's felt a lot lighter.

Only when she wasn't working would she get a little down while missing Saul and quite itchy knowing Saia was hanging around the Jem'Hadar. Then having arguments because she drove Saia crazy with a thousand questions. She had to make sure that she wasn't being dragged into anything if the Jem'Hadar had plans to take over the ship. Which Nara was restless to think! they did andit drove her near crazy.

But as long as she was working and things were being fixed by her hands, all other troubles were away from her mind and all was well with the universe.

Ayden smiled, "That's an interesting phrase. Well is there anything you need from me before you take off? A cup of coffee perhaps?" He joked.

She gave a small laugh, "Actually I have to get back to work." She considered saying something about a raincheck, but decided to see if he would offer or not.

"Another time then," Ayden replied, graciously stepping towards Nara as he prepared to guide her towards the exit. In all, he couldn't even begin to explain how glad he was that the seven page report wasn't lost forever, especially since the Major had been requesting it rather persistently since last night.

She nodded as she picked up the kit, deciding to personally give herself the assignment of straightening out and refurnishing al! l the kits s! ince it's a slow day and she still had quite a bit of time left in her shift. She nodded at him as they neared the door, "I'm Lt. Naranda Roswell, by the way. I'm in Ten Forward sometimes, so maybe I'll see you there."

It was such obvious flirting, but harmless nontheless. She didn't suspect he was after her, but she did prepare herself to decline if he ever showed more interest than innocent flirting.

"Sounds good, take it easy Nara." Ayden responded, "I'll see you again sometime, hopefully not in any sort of work environment then. Oh, Ayden O'Connor, by the way." Eesh, he was filling a little silly. He wouldn't deny any charges of playfully flirting with the young engineer, but at least for the moment, his heart was quite contently... taken.

She flashed another smile as she practically skipped out the door, quite light hearted. She hadn't many days like this, so she would enjoy it while she could. Till the ne! xt big crisis. ! Or until she got off duty.

"Old Arguments, New Details"

Major Corran Rex, CAG/ Vanguard Leader
Flight Officer Xiaz Padma, Three Flight Lead

There were few things as absolutely insufferable as a man newly in love. Maybe the way new parents acted like everyone in the world should be impressed by their ability to procreate, or how teenagers were convinced that the entirety of the milky way revolved around them.

Still, neither of the latter induced whistling as the former did, and as Corran Rex was processing the latest navigational system updates on Vanguard One, that was exactly what he was doing.

"Do you really have to rub it in our faces, Rexy?" Padma snapped, bitterly.

She'd done the full range of emotions on the subject. At first she was hurt, then she was angry, then she was passively aggressive, then fully aggressive, then apathetic, then cautiously optimistic. And now, she was just bitter. Jealously so, perhaps, but bitter just the same.

Not that she would ever, ever admit that particular adverb.

"We get it already. You're in love with a mouse. Big deal."

Corran pressed against the bottom of is craft, sliding out from under it on the maintenance skid. "What's that, Pad?"

"Ha ha. You heard every word of it. Will you just... fix your fighter and stop with the whistling? Your rainbows and kittens are giving me a headache."

"Awww," he chuckled, adopting a snickering tone. "Whatsa matter, snookums? You got something against rainbows and kittens?"

"Only when I'm not getting any myself," Padma remarked, glaring in his direction as that demeaning tone

Which of course, made him chuckle just that much more. There's nothing people love so much as to laugh at the misfortune of others. "i thought you and Teyri were a thing now?" he asked lifting himself up off the deck.

"Sometimes," Pad said with a shrug. "But I'm not sure that either of us are too committed to the idea of having a woman-woman relationship. It's great. When it happens. But I've been fucking women for the past six hundred years, I kinda like the sex with a man as opposed to sex as a man thing. There's something--" She cut herself off as she realised she was about to go into the realm of the graphically descriptive.

"Anyway. I don't think we quite qualify as a 'thing'. We haven't had The Talk and as far as I know, we're not exclusive. I'm certainly not getting enough for us to be exclusive. Though I've found, my definition of a relationship has... changed since I was joined... Must be that male influence."

Corran snorted at that, and leaned back against his fighter. He popped open one of the auxiliary cargo areas on the wing, and a small box that looked suspiciously like a cooler rose up. As he opened it's top, Pad saw that was exactly what it was. The Trill Major took out two bottles of Geenan Blue, the best damn beer from their home planet, and handed one to her. "Must be." he grinned.

"How the hell do you-- never mind. I don't want to know." She took the bottle without another word, easily relieved it of its top, and took a long drink. "Drinkin' with the Boss in the hanger bay," she murmured. "We've got to be breaking several dozen codes of conduct here."

"The perks of being the Squadron CO." he replied. "My boss is way the hell back at Deep Space Five."

"Indeed," she remarked with a soft sigh. "This ship, Rex, I swear... I don't know what made me think joining Starfleet would be a good idea."

Her old friend frowned for a moment. "Hey, that's right - noe of your host have been in Starfleet before, have they?"

"Nope. S'why I did it. You know. The Commission was saying this could be my last host, if I'm not on Best Behaviour, I figured I'd try to do all the things I hadn't done before. Which, granted, it's too much, but they're big things. Sex with a man. Sex as a woman. Starfleet. Piloting. Etc. Etc."

"Why doesn't it surprise me sex was higher up on that priority list than the others?" he asked, fully expecting to get hit for the question.

"I could kill you. You know that, right? Just kill you right here." She wrinkled her nose, scratched her temple with an slender index finger, took another drink of her beer. "Sorry. Just haven't... lately. I always was a horny bastard. Just because I'm sexy and smoldering this time around doesn't change that. You know-- I had only lost my virginity a year before we were joined? Never really thought about it. That all changed. Didn't tell me to expect that one."

"It's a crap shoot." he shrugged. "And you remember what Corran was like, before..." he trailed.

"Yeah. Before." She shook her head. "Still can't believe all of that."

"Part and parcel of the whole gig." he said. "I.. we changed when was joined, and I've changed even more, now that I remember everything."

Well, that wasn't entirely true, he thought as he sipped at his own beer. He remembered a lot of things - including several things he didn't like to think about. His expression shifted to a more serious one, particularly as he thought about Jacen, Vellura, Laslo and Baraban. He hadn't told Pad about those yet. In fact, the only person he'd told was Ella - and he'd hardly told her just how well he remembered those particular memories.

"I think... we all have moments of past host's lives we'd rather not remember. I can't imagine having quite so many. Hosts that is. But." She shrugged. "You're looking very serious, Rex." She arched an eyebrow. "What's going on in that sluggy little mind of yours?"

"Nothing." he shrugged off. He didn't know why he was hesitating to tell Pad what he'd learned. Hell, he'd hardly ever held back before. So why now?

Maybe because she knew exactly how much a past host could change a person, and the memories of those particular hosts of his were absolutely horrifying. Pad would know, in all too much detail, exactly what it was like.

"I don't believe you," she said. "See. You wonder why I don't like this Ella chick. It's because you never used to keep secrets before. I can tell when you're holding back. That's one thing that's the same in every single one of your hosts, that look you get. That, and the one you get when you're lying. The same on every face. But if you don't want to tell me, fine. Go tell it to your girlfriend. S'what she's there for." She finished her beer and looked at the empty bottle before handing it toward him, at a loss as to how best to dispose of it. "I have to tweak my fighter."

"Shit." he muttered under his breath, and set the beers down, rushing off after his friend. "Pad, wait - it's not like that. Not really."

She turned, almost feeling sorry for the guy. In truth, she put him through so many loops, and she knew it. It wasn't something she wanted to do, it was just something that came about. She couldn't help it. Damn estrogen.

"Yes, it is, Corran," she said, using his host name for, perhaps, the first time ever. "It's exactly like that. And that's fine. It's new. It's exciting. It's different. She doesn't know where you're coming from, not completely, and sometimes that's comforting. Believe me, I understand. I just hate that our reactions to one another have changed so damn much."

And yet, she couldn't help but add mentally, haven't changed at all.

"Goddamnit, it doesn't have anything to do with her!" he exploded. "It has to do with me, you egotistical bitch!" he exploded in exasperation. "I told you before,e there were things I probably weren't going to want to remember. Well you know what, Pad? I remembered them. Do you want me to tell you about the forty-seven women I remember raping and killing as Lazlo? You want to hear about how much I enjoyed every second of it?" he stopped for a second, his face starting to grow flush as it all poured out. After catching a quick breath, the Trill continued his angry recitation.

"How about Vellura? Her troops committed those kind of atrocities in the name of protecting Trill from itself. She killed thousands, and more than a few personally. Or how about poor little Jacen? My first host, a kid who was just following orders, and launched the bombs that turned an entire planet of parasite-infected Trills into atoms? Do you really want to hear about all that?"

She slapped him hard across the face. It was instinctual, unintentional, reactionary. His emotional explosion caught her by surprised, pissed her off, and frightened her all at the same time -- there was a fierce glow behind his eyes, one he probably didn't even realise was there, one that she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't known him so well for so long.

"Life sucks, asshole. Get over it," she said.

Corran jerked back in shock, the cheek where her hand had struck stinging like crazy. Of all the reactions she could have offered to his.. outburst, that hadn't been one he'd expected. Corran just sort of stood there, staring for a moment, before rubbing his cheek. "What the hell was that for?"

"Look. Sometimes, hosts do shitty things. In your case, apparently, really shitty things. I'm sorry. But that's how it is. That's how it's always been. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that, I'm sorry about my reaction, I'm sorry about my pettiness here, but you know what? That's what you get. That's what you get for talking me into staying aboard when I had one foot out the airlock. You talked me into it even though I knew it would be a bad idea, because, eventually, we would get to this point. "

Pad stopped for a moment, and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You and I have never done the Just Friends thing well. We both know it. We were both stupid to try it. And you might be parading around all hunky-dory with the situation, whistling tunes and smiling so big it looks like your face is going to break in half, but it's not easy for me. And what's more, you should be able to know and recognise that. But it doesn't stop you from waving your exclusive bliss in my face. And yes, okay?! Yes! I actually want to hear about all that because it's clearly upsetting you and fucking with your mind and has been for a while now."

He'd whirled away from halfway through her tirade, angrily not wanting to listen, but hearing every last word. And the hell of it was, he couldn't really say she was wrong. Or he didn't want to.

Rex honestly didn't know which it was, but his jaw set stubbornly as he yanked at his tool kit, and returned to working on is fighter.

"You haven't changed, you know that?!" she shouted after him. "You're still a fucking son of a bitch." She whirled around herself, and instead of going to her own fighter, she strode across to the door and out the bay.

At least she made it half way down the corridor before the tears started falling.

After she left, Corran tossed the tools to the ground, and then just leaned his head forward against his fighter.

'Fuck." he muttered.

Someone to Watch Over Me
By:T'Rei
Ensign Security Officer,
U.S.S. Galaxy

“Computer, Buble. Track 2” Sighing a rather light sigh, the newest crew member of the Galaxy sank into her chaise lounger. The lounger, was the only thing in her quarters that was where it was supposed to be. To put it mildly, objects of affection from T’Rei’s short life were no longer objects of affection. These objects were now classified to T’Rei as bones of contention. The woman enjoyed her surroundings tidy to say the least. On the verge of obsessive was more like it.

She has so much work to do….but little time to do it in. Her arrival on board the Galaxy had been not what the Terran had expected. Chaos and disruption had been her friends on her journey to her first assignment fresh out the academy. Yet, the Terran of whom was raised in the Vulcan way was calm. A tad too calm. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift.

The swarm of “greenies” that surrounded her made her wonder what the logic behind procreation really was. One other Vulcan ensign had be-friend her upon her journey here, and he was a refreshing being. At first, he was not sure what to make of the Terran with the Vulcan name. Once she introduced herself and they chatted, his mind was put at ease. They spent considerable time conversing on the shuttle.

“You are called T’Rei?”

She turned her gaze upon him. “Yes.”

“Pardon me for saying this…you do not resemble a Vulcan.” His face held a rather puzzled look upon it.

T’Rei could “view” his brain working over time on the concept that gave him puzzlement. “I am by birth, a Terran. I was accepted by Vulcan guardians which taught me the ways of the race.”

“Interesting.” The ensign arched his left eyebrow in typical manner.

“Indeed.” She returned the gesture of the eyebrow.

Several other ensigns viewed the exchange of conversation.

“Is that a mating ritual?” One asked another.

“No clue.”

Satrak spoke once more. “You are capable of having emotion….are you not?”
T’Rei held his gaze, her auburn hair and emerald eyes had caught Satrak off guard, and he was intrigued. “Yes, I have emotion. However, I do not find it logical to use it. It is a characteristic I do not wish to associate myself with.”

A fellow ensign piped in. “Well, excuse me for interrupting….but, what’s the point of having emotion if you are not going to use it? Hell, I wouldn't be able to contain myself!”

“It is a skill that I am quite proud of, controlling my emotions. It requires a great deal of discipline.”

“I guess. To each his own.”

Satrak spoke. “I find it…..most interesting. Can you do other ‘things‘ with specifics to the race?”

T’Rei nodded in silence. At the time, she did not wish to elaborate any further. Skills known only to her would make themselves known when the timing was correct for them to do so.

Slowly opening her eyes, she glanced with a cursory manner. What was the department going to think of her? How would she be accepted into the group? Or, would she? Endless questions floated around her mind. Time would tell the answers to the questions she asked silently.

Solitude was her forte. She relished being alone, in duty and in off duty time. However, being assigned to the security department squelched any idea of solitude. Training, meetings, and above all, a partner prompted her to release those thoughts of working alone.

Walking over to the wood and glass curio hutch, she started to unpack her collection of crystal starships. Upon opening the first box, she arched her eyebrow. A gift from her parents upon graduation of the academy, the shape of the ship made her shake her head. It was a replica of the Galaxy. With a gentle manner, she help the ship up to the small accent light above the cabinet. The prism of light reflected off the interior of her quarters providing a rainbow effect. Her thoughts drifted to the first time she viewed the ship in person.

The Galaxy was a massive ship. She had seen holocube images of the vessel, but nothing could describe the feeling she had upon first viewing it in person. The amount of fire power and prowess this vessel had was enough to make even the most insecure feel secure. Of course, that is the first thought of any security officer. How can this vessel protect the people inside of it’s hull? At least, it was T’Rei’s first thought. This ship was to be her home and her protector for months, if not years to come. In the midst of feeling all alone, she realized she had someone to watch over her. The USS Galaxy.

T‘Rei broke the arid silence of her quarters with a firm, yet ladylike voice as she held the crystal Galaxy in the palm of her hand, “Let the adventure begin…………..”

“Of Fire, Flesh, and Ghosts”

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

The Galaxy was on fire.

She turned around and around again, trying to find a safe way to the bridge. Ella had told her that she would be safe there. Everyone went to the bridge when there was a crisis. Ella was there waiting for her. Or maybe Ella was already dead, like the others. 8-ball felt like she should remember this but things seemed so hazy. It must have been the smoke. It was clouding the corridor and her mind.

8-ball crawled to her right as pieces of burning ceiling fell down. She swerved to avoid them and made it to the turbo lift, but it wouldn’t open. There was a sign hanging slightly askew on the door that read: In case of emergency, use stairs. 8-ball tried to remember where the stairs were and found that she couldn’t. Maybe on the other side of the deck? She wasn’t sure.

She turned around and started crawling the other way, passing by bodies that were still smoldering on the floor. She couldn’t hear anything, not even her own breathing, but the smell in the air was pungent: like burning flesh, barbecues. She had an image of her father cooking ribs at the griddle, and she had to pause to vomit before she continued crawling through the ship.

She reached the stairs finally and started to walk down them, but there was a body in her way, Big Man’s body, all splayed out and still on fire. She knelt by him, touching his hand, and started to cry before she remembered that Big Man didn’t die on the Galaxy, and why were there stairs on the Galaxy anyway? Starships didn’t have freaking staircases. The answer seemed on the corner of her mind, the tip of her tongue, and then her foot accidentally hit something, maybe Big Man’s leg, and she was falling, falling, falling.

8-ball opened her eyes and found that she had landed in a Jeffries Tube. This was good. She could get to the bridge through here. It was small and cramped and darker than normal, but at least it didn’t smell like flesh and barbecues anymore. She pushed through a hatch that was supposed to lead to the bridge, but somehow she found her way in her quarters instead. Ella was lying on the bed, Victor holding her hand. 8-ball knew this meant that Ella was dead.

“You did this,” 8-ball said to Death. “You did this all.”

Victor shook his head. “I just ferry the souls,” he said. “The vessels are out of my hands.”

8-ball knew that this was true, and she could see the accusation in Victor’s dark, hollowed out eyes, so she left her quarters, vaguely wondering where she would go. The bridge was no longer an option. Ella wasn’t there. The bridge wasn’t safe. And then she saw the girl lying on the ground. 8-ball somehow knew she would be there.

“Azra,” 8-ball said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Azra opened one of her eyes, the one on the side of her face that wasn’t melting off. “Why did you start the fire, then?”

“I. . .I don’t know. It wasn’t me. It was someone else.”

“Anlaika is long gone. You can’t blame her now.”

8-ball shook her head and cradled the child in her hands. “I didn’t kill you, Azra. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I was there,” Azra said. “I remember.” She lifted herself out of 8-ball’s hands and stood steadily on her feet. Her eyes looked past 8-ball. “I’m ready,” she said to something.

8-ball turned around to see Victor standing there. “You can’t take her,” 8-ball told him. “You can’t kill her too.”

“I told you: I don’t hurt the vessels. You do that. I’m just carrying her soul along. Look.” Victor pointed to the ground. 8-ball turned away from the Azra standing to see Azra still lying dead on the floor. “The girl you hold on to is just the ghost. And ghosts are my domain.”

“Not this one,” 8-ball said. “This one’s mine. You can’t have her.”

“You don’t want to bear the weight of the dead.”

“No,” 8-ball said. “But she’s mine to bear.” 8-ball kneeled down on the floor and took Azra’s hand. It was slowly fading away. “I can’t let you go,” 8-ball said.

“I won’t let you,” Azra replied, and her body faded and shimmered until she was just a colored spot of wind, visible and staining the air. 8-ball knew she couldn’t stay like that.

“Finish it,” Victor said. “Make one with flesh and ghost.”

So 8-ball opened her mouth and swallowed Azra’s soul.

***

8-ball’s eyelids slowly opened to reveal the ceiling of her darkened quarters. It was not breaking. It was not burning. It had only been a dream.

For some reason, this didn’t bring the comfort it was supposed to.

8-ball slid out from under her sheets and sat on top of her pillow, her bare legs tucked as close to her chest as she could get them. She could feel sweat on her forehead and she wiped it off with the back of her hand before it could drip down the side of her face. Her hands felt unsteady, so she glanced at them to see if they were shaking. They weren’t. Her breath was shaky, though, and she tried to steady it once again.

This hadn’t been her first nightmare of Azra, but it had left her feeling cold despite the sweat on her skin, as if there was something dead within her, someone else’s soul in her flesh. The nightmares were getting worse, and more frequent with each passing week. She was long past the point of pretending that nothing was wrong.

~All I can do now~ 8-ball thought ~is try to deal with it. As privately and as silently as I possibly can~ “That’s not actually going to work, you know,” a voice said. 8-ball’s head snapped up, and she saw Azra standing in the corner. “You won’t be able to hide me away.”

“Shut UP!” 8-ball yelled at her, and put her hands over her eyes. A moment later, she slowly parted them to look back at the corner. Azra was gone, as if she’d never been. But 8-ball knew she’d be back.

That was the way of ghosts.

"Housecall"

Ensign Robert Mathieson, Starbase 37

Crewman Jones trembled as the short grizzled doctor approached, mediscanner in hand. "This won't hurt much, will it Doc?"

Mathieson scanned the patient's leg - specific green fractures in both the radius and ulna bones of the young man's forearm, certainly painful, but nothing serious. Seeing this exact type of injury before, he looked up at the larger crewman and smiled. "My son, there are two parts to the treatment - one absolutely painless, and the other only mildly uncomfortable." He quickly anesthetized Jones' forearm and went to work setting the bones and proceeding with cellular regeneration of the damaged bone and soft tissue.

After five minutes, the younger man grinned at the balding physician. "Hey, Doc - that's great! I didn't feel a thing." To demonstrate, he flexed his fingers and rotated his hand.

"Good, good." Mathieson's cockney accent chimed. "Now, all that's left is the uncomfortable part, crewman. Close your eyes, and we'll begin."

Trustingly, Jones closed his eyes - removing any chance of noticing the hard slap applied to the back of his head. "OW! FUCK! What the hell that was that for?"

"IT'S FOR WASTIN' ME BLEEDIN' TIME, YOU ARROGANT PUP!" The Doctor's accent broadening with rage. "Cor, you think I wait around fer great gits like you to hurt yerself playin' 'Klingon' with yer toy frikkin' bat'leths? I orta.." Mathieson didn't get a chance to finish. Blanching under the diminutive doctor's fury, the crewman dove for the Medical Office's doors and beat a hasty retreat.

Mathieson followed to the door, continuing his diatribe. "At's it, my son! Run! RUN! AND IF YER BACK 'ERE WITH ANOTHER BAT'LETH INJURY, I'LL USE THAT BAT'LETH TO CUT YER COBBLER'S OFF!"

Sensing the stares of the corridor's other occupants, he settled down with an awkward, halting laugh.

"Heh...kids."

Despite the incident with Crewman Jones, Doctor Robert Mathieson's workday progressed better than most. The injuries were generally minor and work related except for the last procedure.

Young's X'eth, a newborn Vulcan baby, was delivered after ninety minutes of his mother's labor. Ninety minutes. Something had to be said of emotional discipline after all, the doctor mused. Mathieson examined, cleaned and swaddled the child, then delivered him to the arms of his mother. While the mother bonded with her son, Mathieson saw to the mother's health and removed the placenta and cleaned up the green aftermath. Despite their stoic facade, Tellan and Vel were clearly proud parents, calmly debating their child's resemblance. When they asked for an objective opinion was asked for, he provided a compromise. "Are you kiddin'? No hair and all pudgy? The little wane resembles ME more than either of you." He squished his eyes closed in imitation of the sleeping X'eth. The exhausted Tellan almost laughed, but Vel's stony face didn't crack.

While the mother coddled the infant, Mathieson lectured Vel on how best to look after his tired mate - what to keep an eye on and what to 'overlook' as Tellan's hormones slowly returned to their normally balanced state. He was immensely pleased with himself when the new parents left bearing their new child.

After cleaning up, Robert made his way to his quarters for some relaxation before calling it a night. Activating his personal terminal and hoping to access the most recent online edition of the 'Racing Times', he was interrupted by a priority message from Starfleet Medical.

Mathieson listened as the message droned. Then shut the terminal off entirely, 'Racing Times' forgotten and a shocked look left on his face.

"Blimey" was the only word he could manage.

"Blimey".

“Midnight“

J. Andrus Suder (apc)

******

Capitol City, Romulus

******

It was midnight and Andy couldn’t sleep.

He had repeatedly gone over the files that Grax had left him on the Galaxy crew (trying to find some angle that would give him an ‘in’) but to no avail. The ambassador’s intelligence covered what the crew had in their Starfleet files, which obviously omitted the dirty little secrets that Andrus was looking for.

Still, he had noted a few potentials and was now waiting for any information that his contacts and even his defectors could send him that might be relevant.

There was nothing for him to do for now and the extra time afforded him the rare opportunity of catching a decent amount of sleep, for him at any rate, but the wheels in his head were turning too loudly for such rest.

It was midnight and dawn was maybe five hours away.

Unfortunately for him, the ambassador was one of those miserable types who liked to awaken at dawn and be at work before the proverbial rooster had had a chance to crow. Andrus liked awakening with the sun too, provided that it was after ten in the morning and there was a pot of strong coffee close by, but such was the peril of leading a dual life. Next time he would have to look more closely at the hours before committing to a job; surely there was employment to be had on Risa that didn’t involve starting work until late in the afternoon.

Andy threw off the covers, pulled on some pants, and walked out into the space the Romulans had meant to be living room but resembled something closer to a morgue with a thoughtful manifesto of the Romulan government sitting on the cold slate coffee table, kind of like a Terran bible or a Klingon flyer that warned against the dangers of tribbles.

He would have just walked out naked but the officers had an annoying habit of popping in for surprise inspections of their quarters and, as much as he disliked them, Andy had no desire to give some poor uhlan a heart attack from shock. There was something about nude mind readers that he imagined was totally offensive to almost every Romulan on the planet, for what could be worse than being that uninhibited? Andy almost wished he could flash the whole lot of them on his way off of this rock while simultaneously screaming out every one of their little petty thoughts.

It was slightly past midnight and Andrus wondered if maybe he had been drinking too much coffee lately.

He ran a hand through his hair, shrugged, and then ordered a cup of coffee anyway.

Once it materialized, he took it over to the table and chairs, which was slightly more comfortable than the couch, and sat down. There was probably something to do while he awaited both information and the dawn but he couldn’t quite decide what that was. His quarters were spotless and the laundry had already been done. He wasn’t in the mood to read, ever again or at least until later this morning, and there was no one really to write to. His mother and father were on vacation somewhere in the Alpha quadrant, never in one place long enough to send a communication, both Tekia and Wise were still pissed at him about the last job, although obviously for different reasons, and refused to have anything to do with him, and his sometime-employer Chris didn’t have anything that looked good (at his age Andy figured that wombat extermination was a bit beneath him) and so that was the end of that.

Andrus wondered if it was a bit sad that he was only really connected to five people (perhaps six if you counted Grax but Andy didn’t feel inclined to let a morning person into his inner sanctum just yet) but then figured the less people you had, the easier it was to protect them. And maybe, just maybe, five really was the magic number and he’d be able to pull off this great Romulan heist and live to apologize to Wise and Tekkie, again, kick Chris’s ass for throwing him lousy work, and make it to his dad’s next annual birthday extravaganza.

It was slightly passed midnight and Andrus was hopeful but he decided that he’d feel a whole lot better if some information came and soon.

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