{{OOC: Takes place directly after 'Building Bridges' }}

"Extra Ticket"

Lieutenant Tarin Iniara
Chief of Operations

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

The moment the briefing ended, Saul bolted up from his seat, rushing to catch up with his target before she leaves the room.

The moment he got the summon for the briefing, he figured that once more he'll need to maneuver between several factors if he wanted to make it through the next several days unscathed. He spent the short time between then and now considering his alternatives and the biggest question mark was who would lead this mission. The answer was probably more than what he could hope for.

"Iniara.", He called out, putting on a cordial smile. It wasn't much of an effort since he was in good relations with the Chief of OPS.

Hearing the voice, Iniara turned to see Saul closing in on her position. Inwardly she grinned; this was not the first time she had seen that particular smile crossing the Tactical Chief's face. It was the smile that said 'I'm going to persuade you to do something for me, before you realize that I'm persuading you'. She couldn't help but be curious.

"Hello, Saul," she replied, grinning outwardly now. "What can I do for you?"

"Let me use the ambassadorial suite on the ship that'll take us to Cheron.", Saul grinned. "Seriously, just wanted to congratulate you for taking the lead on this mission, and ask if there's any way I can assist in the preparations, beyond what's stated in the briefing."

Iniara suppressed a snicker. "Nobody told me you were switching to the Liaison Corps. Congratulations yourself. But seriously." She paused, watching as the few remaining people trickled out of the room, leaving them alone. "Hm. How much experience do you have in dealing with the Rihannsu?"

"I'm no expert, but I have some. Mostly during my first posting when I visited several Rihannsu-influenced regions of space, but also during my pre-academy days.", Saul told her. His long-time connection with t'Noir and his likes was probably his most significant experience, but it wasn't something that could go down in his CV.

"That's more experience than I have," she told him. "I don't suppose you could coach me, maybe give me some pointers so this mission doesn't become some sort of huge diplomatic fiasco?" It was rare that Iniara asked for help from anyone, but this was her first real command. This would most likely set the stage for her career from this moment on. She wasn't about to let ignorance screw it up.

"Sure thing. Though if I were you I'd give myself a crash-course in Rihannsu diplomacy and history. In fact, that's how I intend to spend my time until we depart, so that my advice won't cause the next Romulan-Federation war. Is there anything you'd like to know right now?"

"Actually..." Iniara paused, fidgeting with her hands for a moment. "Yeah. Not totally related, but..." She fidgeted again. "Hm. You know what, nevermind. I can look it up."

"Let me know if you can't find whatever it is. I do actually have one request, come to think of it.", Saul added.

"But of course you do," Iniara commented, grin reappearing on her lips.

"You're probably aware that I have a passenger living in my quarters since my... recent return." There was no need to say 'return from where'. The curious disappearance of several key crewmembers didn't go unnoticed by the crew, especially by one of the senior officers. "Her name is Chava. I'm reluctant to leave her on board while I'm away, since I'm pretty sure that they'll put her in 'protective custody' if I'm not there to watch her. I'd like to bring her along."

"Well..." Iniara frowned in thought. This could become a sticky situation. "Given the circumstances I don't want to know more than I absolutely need to. Ignorance is bliss, so they say, especially when a team returns from 'time away' with 'extra personnel'. Can you vouch for Chava; can you give me your word that she isn't going to get us all into trouble while we're on this mission?"

"If I couldn't, I wouldn't make this request."

"Is there some sort of function she can perform within the team?" Iniara continued. "The Rihannsu will have final approval on our personnel list, and I highly doubt they will allow a passenger with the designation of 'civilian tourist'. I don't need any extra baggage to deal with either."

"She's a... merchant. I'd put her as a backup pilot, but we wouldn't want to put a shuttle in the hands of a civilian. She could help relief efforts if necessary... if more sabotage takes place, the colonists could probably use any available pair of hands. She's so bored right now that I'm sure she'll be delighted to do anything that we throw on her."

"Alright." Iniara folded her arms across her chest, considering the situation. "List her as your assistant, a civilian aid worker, or something along those lines. Some position where you can keep an eye on her at all times. I trust you, Saul, but I don't think I need to remind you how important it is that this mission go off without a hitch."

"It'll be as smooth as a Bolian's bald head.", Saul assured her.

"And remember, I can read minds," she continued, tapping a finger on her temple, "and if I sense that she might do something...unwise...I won't hesitate to step in and deal with the situation." Iniara hated playing the 'telepath card' and she doubted it would come to that, but years of experience had nonetheless taught her to always be vigilant.

Saul scowled. "That, Lieutenant, will surely not be necessary. I guaranteed Chava safe passage in exchange for her support, and I'm a man of his word. If she'll cause any problems - and she won't - I'll handle it. You'll have enough on your mind as it is."

"Good, good." Iniara nodded to herself. Somehow she thought that a civilian tagging along with them would be the least of her worries, but it never hurt to cover one's bases. "And on that note, we should both get to our preparations. If you need anything else, you know where to reach me."

"Same goes. See you on the shuttlebay when we depart, then.", Saul said.

He let Iniara exit the room first, leaving him as the last person there. He scanned the conference table, then closed his eyes. The feeling in his stomach was probably the same feeling an acrobat had when the circus workers below remove the safety net.

But stomach ache or not, the acrobat always takes that leap, and so Saul ordered the lights off and paced briskly out of the conference room, skipping over the threshold on his way out.

NRPG: Takes place immediately after "When Things Came To A Head."

"Consequences"

2nd Lt. Branwen London
Furies XO/Counselor

Commander Karyn Dallas, RN
Chief Counselor/Second Officer
USS Galaxy

***Sickbay, USS Galaxy***

Branwen walked into sickbay. She had wiped the tears away with her good arm, but she was not aware that she had missed some streaks on her cheeks, and that she was looking horrible right now.

"Kimberly." She whispered, standing at the door. She had enough of her wits about her that she did not want too attract much attention.

Nurse Susan Hayden happened to be in Dr. Burton's office dropping off a PADD when she heard the tentative voice behind her. She turned to greet the occupant and reveal jokingly that she was mistaken for the CMO all the time, but then she noted the girl's tear streaked face and the fact she was cradling her arm. Susan immediately switched gears, walking over and gently guiding the injured woman into the main ward. "What happened to you, dear?"

"I.. I had a training accident." She knew it sounded lame. But marines did not rat on fellow marines. "I need my arm fixed please."

Susan guided Branwen to the nearest unoccupied biobed and helped her up onto it. The nurse activated the privacy forcefield so that no one could see into the immediate treatment area and then pulled Branwen's file up on the panel above the bed. Hayden pulled out her tricorder and immediately began scanning. "Your arm is broken, Lieutenant. You said this happened in a training accident?"

"Yes." Bran said softly.

Susan consulted her readings again. "How exactly did it happen? Given the nature of the break and the damage, I'm curious about the kind of force it took to do this."

Ehm" Bran said. "I ehm... I tripped and fell." she lied.

Susan Hayden had been a nurse for a long time and could spot a lie a light year away. She then recalled London's expression when she arrived and considered there was more to it than pain. "Lieutenant...Branwen, did someone do this to you?"

"No." Bran said too quickly. "Of course not. I fell." It sounded lame even to her.

Hayden sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy. "If you were training on the holodeck, I'd expect the safeties to prevent such injuries, Branwen, so that means someone you were training with or perhaps arguing with did this. I will treat your injuries, but if someone hurt you, you don't need to protect him or her."

"I...I trained alone and I turned them off." Bran said. This really hurt like hell but she was not going to show the pain. Tough little marine. That was what Baile wanted right. He could get it.

Hayden turned her attention to grabbing the osteoknitter and a hypo with pain medication. It gave her time to think. She turned back to her patient and depressed the hypo in her skin and activated the osteoknitter. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you turning off the safeties is a punishable offense. Why would you risk that for someone else?"

I am a marine, ma'am. I need to practice. It was stupid, I guess this is punishment enough." She doubted Baile would punish her more for this. And Bran was glad the pain was less now. "Can I use the arm again straight away?"

Susan shook her head, turning off the osteoknitter when she was sure she'd healed the break. "I'd wait for a few hours because it's going to be sore and stiff. I'd like to see you again just to make sure it has healed properly. It was a pretty nasty break, and it's going to take the tendons time to heal. You'll notice a loss of strength for a bit." She tried once more. "Bran, I have to report this, along with my suspicions that this wasn't an accident. If you won't talk to me, maybe you'd like to talk to Karyn?"

Branwen blushed. "She is my mentor. I....I am already in trouble with Kimberly." She bit her lip turning away from Susan.

Hayden frowned, not sure what that was about, but she decided it wasn't important at the moment. "Willl you speak with her?"

"Do I have too?" Bran whispered. "She is probably too busy."

"I can asssure you she won't be too busy for this. Someone hurt you, Lieutenant. That's not ok."

"Alright then." Bran closed her eyes leaning back on the bed. She knew she had no choice.

***

Karyn received sickbay's urgent message and was in the main ward within ten minutes. The message from Susan was vague, but whenever Dallas was called to sickbay in her capacity as a counselor, it wasn't good news. She found the nurse who directed her to Branwen's biobed.

"I'll let you two have some privacy, but I'll be back in a few minutes," Hayden said.

"I tripped ma'am." Bran said. "The nurse insisted I talk to you. I broke my arm."

"Bran," Dallas answered, "Susan wouldn't call me down here if she didn't suspect there was more to this than you're saying. Any idea why she would say that?"

"Because I disengaged the safeties.' Bran blushed lyng didn't come naturally to her.

"I see," Karyn replied. After a moment, she said, "I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth. I expected as a Marine, you'd value honesty, Branwen."

"But marines also stick together, ma'am. We don't rat on each other." She shot back.

Karyn's eyebrows raised. "A fellow Marine did this? If it was a true accident, he or she would own up to it, and if it wasn't an accident, then the person who did it is not a truly honorable Marine, now is he?"

"He is still...." She stopped herself in time. "we don't air our problems in public, ma'am." Bran felt cornered. Baile would think even less of her if she told.

Karyn considered that. "If I were to find out where you were just before you came here, would I find witnesses, Branwen?"

Bran flushed deeper red but didn't say anything.

Karyn reached out and put her finger under Bran's chin so they were looking face to face. "If someone did this intentionally, it has become more than just a marine issue. You know that. Now, if I have to find witnesses, I'll do that, but I'd like to hear it from you. Whatever it is, you and I can figure it out."

"I was annoying him ma'am. I never do anything right in his eyes. He asked me to leave and I didn't. So it wasn't really his fault." Bran said quickly.

The words hit her like bucket of icy water. Images of the night Victor attacked her came flooding back, but she fought them down to focus on reality. Karyn had annoyed Victor. He had asked her to leave several times, and Dallas had never blamed him. Instead, she'd blamed herself. Looking at Bran was like seeing herself from the perspective of Dr. T'lan or the other young medical officer who had treated her except there were no pheromones to blame.

"It wasn't your fault, Bran, no matter what you did or what you said. He hurt you, and he needs to answer for it."

"No ma'am. You don't understand. He gave me an order and I did not leave. I thought I was smarter, that I could convince him that I am a good officer." She hung her head. "I don't understand. Maybe I don't understand people after all."

Dallas swallowed hard. "I'm sure you were trying to help hi-- Baile? Did he do this?" She had finally put it altogether.

Branwen blushed again. "I really try."

Karyn exhaled slowly. "Ok, Bran. Let's try this again. What happened between you and Lt. Baile?"

She finally explained how she had gone to the brig to try and help him because he was her boss. And how he again had told her that she was not a good marine. How she had argued and didn't want to leave and how he finally picked her up and broke her arm.

Karyn listened quietly and allowed Bran to tell her story without interruption. Finally, she said, "Thank you for telling me the truth. I know you don't want to be perceived as a snitch, but the truth is, whether Baile deserved to be in the brig in the first place is now a moot point. He assaulted someone, one of his own no less, and right now, that makes him a danger to others. He did this to himself, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Now, all I care about right now is your well-being. Other than the arm, are you ok?"

"It wasn an accident ma'am. I am sure he didn't mean to hurt me. And Kimberly is making me talk." She finished. "Although I don't need it." She quickly finished. Very glad they had not done a full physical exam. She still had not used the cream Kim had given her. Karyn smiled. "It sounds like our CMO is being a very good to you. I won't interrupt a good thing, but do you mind if I talk with her about how you're doing? We've both been worried about you of late. As for Baile, I'll be speaking with him as well as Corgan. We'll make sure this never happens again."

"Ma'am, I have to solve this myself. Or he will never respect me. And Kim knows you are my mentor so I talk to you as well. Work is fine ma'am. The marines are starting to trust me and open up." She felt much better talking about work.

Dallas bit her lip. Bran was in a tough spot given the Marines would not like her speaking against Baile and by her own admission, she was just starting to gain their trust. Unfortunately, this had moved beyond a simple exercise in toughness. "As I see it, his respect became meaningless the moment he broke your arm. Period. I'm sorry, Bran, but Baile has crossed the line well beyond his own honor code. Now, do you feel safe enough to return to your quarters and rest?"

"I have work to do, ma'am." Bran said sliding of the bed. She was sad that nobody seemed to listen to her.

"Branwen, wait," Karyn said.

"Ma'am?" She asked.

Karyn exhaled. "If this were anyone else, what would you advise him or her to do? You're the Second Officer and you've just learned one of your officers has assaulted another. In addition, said officer is already in the brig for leaving without notice and is under suspicion for not being the person he says he is."

"Oh it's Baile alright." Bran said with feeling. "But I am asking you to let it pass. It is marine business. We will handle it ourselves. I have to prove myself to him, ma'am. Pure and simple. I have to work even harder." She said simply.

"But you're not just a marine, Bran. You're one of my officers, and you were always our responsibility as a member of this crew. After what he did to you today, I'm not certain he'll be with us any longer. You could have avoided sickbay, but you didn't. I have to believe you wanted help. Come on Bran, you know I can't let it go. You knew that when you agreed to talk with me. Don't shut me out like Baile did you."

"Damn it, ma'am. I needed the arm taken care of. The nurse almost forced me into talking to you. Don't turn this around and make it my fault." She was angry now. "I will deny anything I just said and take my punishment for not putting the safety on. I told you in confidence." It was too much. Bran really didn't need this on top of her other problems.

"I never said it was your fault," Karyn answered quietly. "And for the record, it was not your fault, I know that. I'm wondering if you know that, however." She added even more softly. "I know you feel painted into a corner. You're angry and scared, and confused. Please, don't turn away. Don't isolate yourself from all of this."

"You are putting me in a corner by saying I want this. That by coming here I am sealing Baile's faith. I hate the bastard but I don't want that. It would be letting him win by showing weakness. I don't want that. So I will deny anythng I told you."

"He sealed his fate when he picked you up and broke your arm," Karyn corrected. "We don't need you to corroborate anything if there are records of your injuries and witnesses to the crime. How are you showing weakness? By having the guts to state the truth? By meeting your ethical responsibility as a counselor to protect the rest of the crew from someone who didn't think twice about assaulting a colleague? You didn't give up those obligations when you became a marine. You're a counselor too."

"I think.... I think he didn't realise... I don't know what happened to him. He should not have been able to break my arm by just picking me up." She finally realised.

"But he did," Karyn replied emphatically. "I know it's not something you enjoy sharing. Maybe you think you should have been able to prevent it, but no one expects a colleague to do this."

"Ma'am unless there is something seriously wrong with me he shouldn't be able to do it. I am not that fragile."She tried to explain. "It is not normal."

Karyn frowned. "You're no slouch, I'm sure, but men as a general rule tend to be stronger and heavier than women. Add to that you weren't expecting to be assaulted and it could happen."

"Ma'am, I train with men the whole day long. I am conditioned to react to attacks." She said. "Trust me, something is wrong. Besides he was wounded an not seen by a doctor yet. He might be ill."

That got Karyn's attention, but after what happened with Victor, she was not about to go looking into it alone. "We'll look into it. In the meantime, take some time to recuperate today. And let's keep talking?"

"Yes ma'am." Bran said. "I will take it easy today. I won't train." She grinned. "And can you keep me in the loop please?"

Karyn nodded. "I will. I meant what I said, Bran. You know you can always come to me, right? I want you and I to talk about everything that's on your mind. You don't need to bury yourself in work and avoid me."

"Ma'am. You know I want to do well. And the last couple of weeks have not been easy. But my work is not suffering. I promise you that. I hope my updates do reach you?"

"Your work is not suffering, but I am afraid you are."

"You've been through a lot recently, and I'm concerned you're using work to avoid facing all of it. Just know you're not alone, ok?"

Bran hesitated. "Kim is trying to make me talk about it. But I can't, okay? I can't. And my work is not suffering so you shouldn't be concerned. I make sure of that. And there is one person I can talk to more or less and feel safe with."

Karyn nodded. "You're lucky then. All I'm saying is I'm on your side too."

"Yes ma'am. but if I talk now.... it's too much. Although even Victor is saying I should talk to a counselor.' She smiled.

Karyn's face remained neutral, but her heartbeat still quickened when she heard Victor's name. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. "Maybe it's worth considering," she answered politely.

"Yeah. You know he is the only person I feel safe with. I really don't understand some people are afraid of him. Victor wouldn't hurt a fly. He saved me from the aliens who r... who hurt me. And he looks after me. Even though he is socially inept he cares and he is a friend."

Karyn continued to smile, but it was tight and uncomfortable. "One is always capable of harming another if the circumstances are right. I should think you'd be aware of that after what just happened." Dallas shook her head at the thought. "I noticed you slipped on your words, but I won't ask you to share what you meant to say. I do hope you will tell me in time."

Bran blushed again. "It is a difficult issue for me. Thank you for not pressuring me, ma'am. I appreciate it."

"Sure," Karyn added. "Now, if we're done for the time being, I'll let Susan see you out. Let's arrange to talk later."

"Yes ma'am. And please keep me in the loop about Baile." She got ready to leave.

"Of course," Karyn agreed.

"Ground Zero"

Chapter 1: "Impact"

By Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer

Karyn Dallas
Chief Counsellor

Ensign Kiel
Apprentice Counselor

He lay upon the battlefield on his side, peering down upon the masses of bodies and muddy fields sated with the blood of armies who'd clashed upon their force-shields and descended into primal madness to rend each other apart like animals.

He smelt the death upon the air, his own ragged breath casting puffs of steam out of his lungs on the winter cold. The faraway sounds of battle still carried on the breezes, coupled with the taste copper and iron seeping onto his tongue.

How could he be here? He didn't remember this time, this place, or this battle. It didn't make sense.

Rolling on his back, he stared into the dimming sky, the shock of pink at the horizon mirroring the spilled life of those that had been destroyed on this field today. His body was wracked with pain, and he couldn't pinpoint exactly where, or what part of him pained more. Only that it did.

The crackle of fires came to his senses, and... a single voice crying out. There was nothing he could do, though. The battle was over for him, and he turned his eyes upwards, to meet his end with nobility.

****

When he awoke, he was met with darkness. Had the sun finally set on the last day of his life? He was satisfied with that if it were. It was a good sunset, closing a chapter in the unending cycle of time, in as much as his life had ended its own mortal cycle. His only concern was that he would be cheated on meeting death with his eyes open, for he would not see it coming in the darkness.

There was a weight on his chest, and he tasted blood on his tongue, but his body would not let go. He coughed, dry and heaving, parched. Instinctively, his body tried to jolt itself forward with each wrack, and the darkness fell away. His hands came to his eyes; pain tumbled through him as he realized his shoulders were both dislocated, at the very least. Perhaps worse.

Falling to his side, squinting, he knew then that he was not dead, not yet. But he would die if he did not make an effort to live. The crackle of fire off to his right; he looked, saw the crumpled remains of the forward cockpit erupted in a funeral pyre for at least one being within.

With mind-numbing pain, for he now knew there was something wrong with his neck, too, he took stock of where he was.

Above him was the bent and burned framework of what he had occupied when he came to be... here. But where was here? He shook his head, and remembered his neck by the lightning bolt of hurt that viciously reminded him.

Cradling his arm, he tested his legs stretched out before him. One hurt like nothing he'd felt before, and on taking a closer look, saw his thigh was a bloodied mess, and bone had broken the skin at the calf. His breath steamed out in great clouds over his field of vision, belying the temperature of the location. He began to shiver when he knew the dream he had been having was a manifestation of his predicament.

With the other leg, he pushed himself up against one of the cabinet doors, causing another one to fall open as he left the leverage of it. Kits labelled all manners of chemicals and bandages fell out, and he recognized the images as being items that could field dress him.

With his one good hand (though he knew there were broken fingers in it), he scattered the items about, taking stock of what he had to live by. Nothing in the kit would help fight an infection, though. His chest hurt.

He heard a low growl off to his right, near the sparse treeline. Quickly, he picked up a support rail that had broken off nearby, and wielded it for when the animal came calling. If he was lucky, it wouldn't be him being served as the dinner special.

******

Complaining to the tour guide was definitely going on the 'to do' list, the young El Aurian thought to himself. Which was remarkable, really. Not the complaining but rather the fact that the pubescent ensign was capable of thought at all, be it to moan, gripe, or otherwise. He had the mother of all splitting headaches. Technically speaking, he had the mother of all concussions was more likely. Reality was coming in spurts. Hazy moments of consciousness shrouded in pain; moments that were almost indistinguishable against the dreams and darkness that seemed to stretch and pull the boy in all manner of directions. It was as if life had suddenly become distorted. Or maybe he had become distorted and life was normal. Though discussion of what was 'normal' was more of a philosophical debate than the youth was prepared to tackle when, at the moment, he was having a rather difficult time of even recalling his own name.

That being the case, he'd much rather save the pensive rhetoric and settle instead for pulling his wits together, though the former might well have been easier than the latter as Kiel found himself in an oddly sagacious mood. In part, it was almost like an out of body experience. Except that he was still in his body, just that the parts which weren't numb were giving him cause to wish that they might be. Between the stillness and the silence which echoed within his own mind, the youth was confronted with pain. What purpose did it serve man? For what or why did man serve himself? The question of why he was here. It was a many faceted query. Why was he where? Why was there anywhere for him to be? For what did the universe exist? Why did he exist? And where was here? Of all the planes of existence, why was 'here' confined to something so deceptively small as a geographic location drawn somewhere on a map which only served to assure people of their physical surroundings? As if by drawing lines and borders they could overcome the larger whole of a planet.

A planet. Ch'Rihan. Romulus. Romulans. Romulan women. Ah, there it was. The purpose behind this little tour. The reason behind the erratic decision to just up and hop off of the Galaxy and onto the first transport headed down to where he hoped to catch a glimpse of the next best thing that the universe had to offer. Romulan women were not the Aphrodite of the cosmos, but then while they might have been related to the Vulcans, they most certainly weren't their cousins. Which wasn't to say that Kiel wouldn't oogle them all the same. A beast as treacherous as she was intoxicating. Of course, he didn't have a chance in a thousand hells. But since when had that ever stopped boys his age from chasing after dreams and angels.

In this particular case, however, the angel of his dreams seemed to have led him to a rather uncomfortable position. He could remember the shuttle. Something had gone wrong. Helping people to the emergency transporters. Only there wasn't enough time. Suddenly the roof above him had disappeared. And then he'd woken up... here. Which, in cyclical logic, brought him full circle to the earlier debate over where 'here' was. He'd had enough damn philosophy for one day, so he thought perhaps it might serve his ends better if he just opened his eyes. He seemed to be laying amid a scraggly shrub. Broken branches filling his view of a night sky overhead. The soft pillow upon which he had safely landed. Not entirely soft and most assuredly not a pillow, but Kiel could only assume that the large bush was the reason why he wasn't dead. And hope that it wasn't of the burning variety, as from Terran religion. He needed epiphanies about as much as he needed philosophical debates.

His eyes open, the next challenge was to move a limb. He'd start small, only trying to flex the fingers on one hand. Try to raise an arm up. Bring it to his chest. He had a communicator on him. He always did, even though he often never wore a uniform. The fingers didn't seem to want to work with him, unfortunately. And a sudden sensation, like he was falling, dropped reality out from underneath him. At least he knew that the little Jem'Hadar orphan was safe with Artim...

The counselor who was a child himself sagged against the branches which supported his slight, slender body several inches off the ground. Entangled in the vines and branches of a mustard-like small tree. His head lulled back as he slipped back into unconsciousness and waited, a captive of the darkness and what dreams may come.

******

Karyn awoke with a start, the nightmare immediately disappearing in the mists of her mind, leaving all but the urgency and fear. And the pain. She groaned as behind her closed lids she saw stars and felt blood dripping into her eyes.

For a few panicked seconds, she thought she was back in her nightmare, back on the floor of Victor Krieghoff's quarters, her blood seeping into the carpet. As she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs and calm herself, she slowly opened her eyes and realized she was not on the Galaxy but somewhere considerably darker and colder.

Dallas gradually realized she was not on her back, but was in fact on her stomach, her hoverchair pressing heavily against her back and pinning her to the floor. She tried to raise herself up and gasped when pain shot through her arm. She bit her lip against the pain and dizziness and called out. "Hh..help!"

******

"Missed me!" Kimberly said, half sarcastically half relieved to the shuttle after it passed literally over her head. Picking herself up she heard the dying craft let loose its final thunderous roar as it ended its uncontrolled crash to the surface. Looking around it wasn't too hard to spot where it had stopped, the burning foliage around it a mute testament to the fiery ending of the small ship.

Wincing as she brushed herself off quickly, she ran her fingers over her ribs where the e-kit had broken her fall, ~ Those cases aren't designed to land on! ~ she muttered silently to herself. Satisfied that nothing seemed broken she added a note to her list of things to do to check her ribs later, and set off in the direction of the crash. Burning in the dim light it was a beacon for anyone, or anything, in the vicinity.

"Burton to Galaxy," she called out as she started to trot, cursing the pirates who'd stolen her comfy boots, these new ones not yet broken in. Receiving no response to her hail her eyebrows shot up in concern, "This is Lieutenant Burton from the Federation Starship USS Galaxy to any receiver within range, please respond!" she called with no small amount of tension in her voice.

Now officially worried she pulled out the strap for the e-kit and slung it over her shoulder, pausing long enough to dig out a handlamp she strapped it to her wrist and plucked her commbadge off her jacket, slowing slightly, not wanting to trip in the near dark she prised the cover off her badge. Working swiftly she first checked the tiny device was working, then to set it to emit an emergency pulse.

As she moved over the uneven ground she found her mind wandering over recent events, and this, the latest in a seemingly long string of mishaps was perhaps the proverbial straw! "I need a vacation!" she muttered, "I mean, when was the last time I took a break."

"The Arizona, with T'Prala on Lased," she remembered after a moment with extreme fondness, "Goddess that was a while back!"

"And I have got to stop talking to myself," she said a little louder as she topped a small rise. Seeing the wreckage of the shuttle nearby she raised her voice, "Hello! Anybody?"

"Let the Diplomacy Begin"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Erei'Arrain Nihran (NPC)

"It's a meditation chime," Brian said, keeping any trace of frustration from creeping into his calm voice. The entire check-in and inspection process had been tedious beyond measure thus far, a good fifteen minutes having already been lost as some Romulan junior officer recited a litany of seemingly purposeless questions including place and date of birth, associations outside the Federation and shoe size. "Shoe size?" the counselor had echoed, perplexed, his query met with no explanation, only the stone cold gaze of a man who'd obviously been given nothing better to do than beleaguer anyone unfortunate enough to pass his small station.

And as if the questions weren't enough, the hand-on inspection of every item in his duffels made sure the encounter was something between leisurely and eternal. He could only imagine what the other members off the team with more to bring along would have to go through.

The Romulan officer examined the silver tube suspended over a rectangular block of wood, suspicion etched in every pore of his green tinted face.

Elessidil simply rolled his eyes, careful not to say or do anything that might upset the man and escalate into an "incident" in the midst of an already tense situation. In his mind he replayed the morning's briefing, reminding himself that a large part of the burden of diplomatically keeping the peace between the various interests represented on this excursion to Cheron fell to him. He was beginning to envy Karyn having to attend a funeral on Romulus with the rest of the senior staff; a dead person would be vastly easier to deal with than this guy.

"And why would you require a 'meditation chime' for your tasks?" the Romulan asked, scrutinizing the counselor's face for the slightest hint of anything that might justify his very obvious doubt of the unfamiliar object's purpose.

"I'll be working with representatives of various interests on Cheron, as well as members of my own team to address any issues related to diplomacy or morale," Brian calmly replied. He could read the Romulan's own feelings of angst and frustration like the pages of a book and decided to play it to his advantage, invoking a little ego stroking for good measure. "I'm sure an officer as highly valued as you must be to have been assigned to this important mission can understand that there will be tensions to resolve. Meditation will help me maintain an objective and balanced state of mind." It was cheap psychological manipulation, the counselor knew, but sometimes knowing when to be slightly underhanded went a long way. Diplomacy was in the end little more than using the same tactics in more formal and varied ways.

"Very well," the man responded, sounding somewhat more mollified -- or at least distracted -- by the explanation and the compliment wrapped within. But it was only temporary. Setting the chime aside, he glanced at the monitor next to him on which he had pulled up information on each of the Galaxy's away team. He then shifted his attention to the counselor himself. "Your credentials indicate you are counselor, Elessidil of Betazed," the last three words ringing more like an accusation than a form of address. The Romulan leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him as he regarded Brian with suspicion again. "I am acquainted with your people and your 'abilities'. An excellent tool for spying, wouldn't you say?"

Brian smiled innocently before replying, all the while wishing he could instead punch out the little prick and move on. "It would be entirely against my convictions as a man, as a counselor and as a Starfleet officer to come here and misrepresent myself like that. I'm familiar with your people as well, a people who cherish honor and truth. I could never come here in a spirit of cooperation and peace while insulting your entire civilization with such duplicity." It wasn't really a lie, but he was intentionally painting the picture rather white.

The Romulan's expression, as well as his thoughts, indicated he wasn't entirely convinced. "I personally will be watching you," he said with the smugly even tone his people were also known for. "You may go."

"Thank you, Erei'Arrain. I hope we'll be getting to know each other better," Elessidil replied, smiling warmly as he gathered his things back into his duffels.

It was perhaps the biggest load of bullshit he'd ever uttered.

"The Wolf Amongst the Lambs"

Captain Vergh, Commanding Officer
IKS Darchak

Commander L'Teer, 1st Officer
IKS Darchak

==Planet Cheron, Romulan/Reman Colony==

An angry red sun was setting on the dust-brown settlement, relieving its inhabitants of the constant heat of the day. Even the Klingon was grateful for the coming night and the relative coolness the darkness provided, thanking Kahless that at least the dry and dusty world had little humidity.

The large warrior stood at the edge of the Reman half of the colony overlooking the construction zone in one of the Romulan quarters. Trouble lights came to life on the Romulan site as a new shift of tradesmen went to work raising the scaffolding that will embrace Cheron's newest piece of architecture. Already, the worksite had the geometric pattern of a structure the Klingon supposed the Romulans found pleasing and significant. The new constriction, sleek and graceful, was in sharp contrast with the existing ruins of the planet, so worn by an ancient nuclear war and hundreds of centuries of erosion that the buildings seemed more rock feature than something made by sentient, intelligent beings.

Arms crossed, the burly Captain glared at the site, examining the changes of shift, the different kinds of work being done in the near darkness, and especially the lax and ineffective security the local administration had put in place.

The silence of the setting sun was interrupted by the sandy tread of the Darchak's First Officer. L'Teer had served under Vergh since before the Dominion War and knew instinctively when her Captain was more displeased than usual. Wisely, she approached the large warrior from the front so the Captain could see her from a distance. Others less wise bore significant scars by approaching the eldest Son of Gorak any other way.

Vergh kept his eye on the construction site, and barked an order in a deep bass voice. "Report."

"The day ends as any other", L'Teer said coming to stand on the Captain's "good" side. " The construction proceeds relatively smoothly - the most problems being environmental. Sand, heat and dust apparently don't agree with much of the Romulan equipment."

"Or Romulans", Vergh growled. "They are weak people, grasping at an ancient event to support their crumbling sense of identity. Pathetic."

The first officer grinned at the statement. "Jlyaj! Our presence must continue to gall them considerably. Speaking of gall...", L'Teer produced a small isolinear chip to her superior. "Director Leto's latest complaints about the 'attacks' upon his part of the population. He's formally demanding our immediate ceasefire and end of hostilities."

The Captain had received such reports from the Romulan administrator before, and had initially dismissed them as another petaQ trick. Further investigation had indeed revealed that Leto's workers had been victim of some form of attack, but Verg was more than confident that it was not his people, or the Remans under the Empire's protection. Leto had laughed when he suggested investigating the matter with additional crew from the Darchak, wondering aloud what kind of a fool the Klingon took him for.

Verg had it narrowed down to a specific one, and it took all his self discipline not to give the Romulan an exacting, detailed description.

The Klingon captain repeated his words spoken earlier in the day with the Romulan Director through clenched teeth. "There have been no attacks, and no hostilities perpetuated by the crew of the Darchak." Turning to his First Officer, he issued more orders. "Send the usual reply and place their demands in the usual file."

L'Teer nodded and placed the small chip on her thumb, tense behind her taloned forefinger. Flicking her thumb, the small data chip spun in the air, reflecting the last rays of the day's dying sun, and landed on a small dune. "He won't like it", she commented.

Verg turned and snarled at his First Officer, his right eye dark and clear, the left a milky white bisecting a cruel scar that ran from the large Klingon's brow to his jawline. "He can take his complaints to Gre'thor for all I care. We are not here to do the biddings of the romuluSngan! We serve the honor of the Klingon Empire."

Undaunted, the First Officer added "and the people of the Reman Protectorate?"

The captain shrugged and returned his attention to the construction below. "Of course...", he growled.

"That too."

===

Below the two Klingons, the small isolinear chip was slowly covered by sand and dust swept by the evening winds, which also had exposed a faded, bleached skull that grimaced in the twilight. Soon, the winds, dust and moving sands made both data chip and remains a memory witnessed only by the sun's dying rays.

"He's Making A List And Checking It Twice..."

(Takes Place 2 days after the end of the 'Here Be Pirates' sub-arc and 5 days before the 'Open Fist' arc starts)

Principal Characters

Commander James Corgan
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Sickbay: Long-Term Care Ward

Victor stood for a long time, looking at the still form under the sheet.

The monitors attached to the bed kept up a soft series of regular tones as they tracked respiration, heartbeat, and a dozen other functions, displaying them on the wall panel over the head of the bed. The damage to the patient's body had long since been repaired, but his mind was... elsewhere; focused on internal vistas that were vibrant enough that Savar tr'Khellian had not felt compelled to turn away from them and see the material world again.

Whatever the things that the Romulan officer saw, wherever his mind had wandered, he was not dead, not yet; Victor knew that by looking at him.

The dead were missing a spark, a vital essence that left when they moved on, and once it had departed all that was left was cells that hadn't gotten the message it was time to stop yet. Victor supposed that essence was a soul, or a khatra, or any of a million other things that races had called it since people had begun trying to define and control things by giving them names.

For a second, he let himself wonder what it would be like to have a soul, or if he did, in fact, have one and just had lost it somewhere. If so, that had been careless of him; people were supposed to have souls. That assumed, of course, that he was a person.

Perhaps he'd find it again some day. Perhaps not. It didn't seem that important. He'd waited long enough, allowed himself to be distracted long enough. Savar wasn't dead yet, which meant that the promise that Victor had made to him didn't need to be fulfilled yet - but it made sense to have everything ready if and when it was necessary.

It was always easier when he knew in advance who he had to kill.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 39
Security Main

Victor nodded to the Duty Officer on his way to Commander Corgan's office, "Lieutenant."

Walter Marsh eyed him back in return with the same caution the veteran regarded most unexpected things he encountered. "Victor," the older man replied. "Something wrong? You're not on shift for a few hours yet."

A fair question Victor supposed. "Nothing right now; maybe later, maybe never. Better if I tell the Commander now though."

"Something... bad?" Marsh asked carefully.

"Just a promise I have to keep," Victor replied.

"What kind of promise?"

Victor looked back at the older man for a moment. "The usual," he said quietly as the Commander's door slid open and he stepped through.

Corgan, taken completely by surprise when Victor wraithly strided in, spun his chair around to meet the Lieutenant gaze to gaze. They were both veterans of war, both had the thousand parsec stare that came over warriors that had seen too much bloodshed in their lifetime. It was with those eyes, from a man who had no compulsion to feel the aftereffects, to one who was all too aware of its humanity stripping qualities, that they meet as equals. It was because of their common experiences that James gave Victor so much leniency.

But even at times, James wondered if he was too permissive. Victor walked in without so much as a hello and a permission-to-speak-freely-sir. It was starting to grate on James' nerves. But this time, there was something to Victor. A purpose.

And when Victor had a purpose, it was for one thing, and it was his only redeeming talent...

"No." James said flatly, "I don't care if he's Khan motherf**king Singh, you're not going to teach him a lesson."

"It isn't necessary for me to teach Khan Singh anything, sir, someone else managed to solve that problem before I inherited it. But I am glad that you understand why I'm here, it makes things much easier.

James blinked in surprise, "Wait... you really are going to kill someone?"

"Probably several people, sir; I don't have an exact count yet." This was going much better than Victor had expected. Perhaps he wouldn't need the padd he'd brought with him after all.

"Well." James got out of his chair, pacing slowly across the length of his office, "Then let me think of a way in which we... F**K NO! What the f**k are you thinking man?!?"

Victor tilted his head to the side and watched Corgan pace. "About what, sir?"

James threw up his arms and proclaimed as if the heavens were listening, "About what, he says! About what!" He directed his attentions back to Victor, his eyes as fiery as his soul, "Don't act so coy, Lieutenant! You know damn well what I'm talking about! You're not killing anyone, not for a revenge spree... not even for a little R&R. GOT IT?!?! Besides which, who the hell is worth the slaughter of 'several' people as you so blithely put it?! Answer me goddammit!"

"Ah." Perhaps the padd might be necessary after all. "Savar tr'Khellian, sir... and a promise that I made to him."

"Oh. Savar." James said blankly, "I remember that prick. He thought I was going to compromise his safety because of my relationship with Atole Tekri. Well, considering the rumors about his death... I guess that's irony for you. And by the way, the answer is no. You may not kill in his name."

"I promised him that if I failed to keep him safe, if an assassin got past me, then I would ensure that everyone involved in his death would, themselves, die."

"Great." James slapped the end of his desk down with his hand. His grip shook the desk to its foundations, straining the polished wood and the joints below, "Isn't it too late now? He's DEAD! It's too late to save his ass, or go on some f**king quest for revenge! It's pointless! HE IS DEAD! What you proposed didn't work for me and it sure as F**K WON'T WORK FOR YOU!!!!"

Since Savar wasn't dead, Victor wasn't certain why the Commander was so vehement. Perhaps the answer lay in his comment? "It didn't work for you, sir?"

Shaking his head, James let go of the edge of his desk. His knuckles were white and stuck in a rictus claw. The intensity of his eyes glowered down at Victor, hard as flint. "I remember my second mission with this ship. I was a young ensign, and my experiences from the war left me hard and cold, just like you. I barely felt, and I fought as such. It was all senseless, but every once in awhile you could awaken my anger and lust for revenge. That was what happened to me when the Borg came back. My greatest fear, my greatest enemy. Did you know what I did back then?"

"No, sir, I don't." The Commander would tell him though, Victor knew that. Either as an instructional message, or as a cathartic release; perhaps both.

"It was after boarding a Borg cube, after I tore the place to hell and snipered a Queen... I'm the only one in the Federation to do so. Our ship was boarded and we were fighting for our lives. People were dying, but that thought escaped me. I only cared about my revenge. I was cornered by a drone, a combat model similar to the one that almost assimilated me as a cadet... I fought madly. I was able to bring it down and in a moment of berserk rage I just beat..." James' fist thumped on the table, "...and beat..." His palm thwacked to the rhythm of his story, "...and beat him until I was exhausted. When I came to my senses I saw what I had done, what that revenge has done to me and I could only cry. My god what a monster I was to exact such cruelty. It wasn't until years later that I learned from it. On reflection, that revenge served nothing. What was done was done. Nothing was going to change that. Revenge didn't help. That is, I'm afraid, what you will learn as well."

Oh. That was what the Commander meant. He thought that Victor was going to.... "No sir," Victor began, only to be cut off as James continued.

"You will clearly do illegal acts on foreign soil. From there you will tarnish Starfleet's name. Nobody will help you, not even me. Then there are the victims, their families and friends, the people they leave behind? Have you thought of these consequences or do you only think about killing them and nothing else? Won't bringing them to justice be enough?"

"No, sir," Victor tried again, only to be cut off a second time.

"Fine." James Corgan dismissed the Lieutenant, "Go. But know that I can't protect you."

Victor stood there for a moment without speaking, and blinked once. "Sir?"

"Eh?"

"I think that you misunderstand the purpose of my visit, sir." It would, Victor reflected, hardly be the first time someone had done that.

James looked crestfallen. "Oh crap. Sorry."

Victor thought about switching to the padd, but decided that it would be too confusing, and the Commander had already gotten confused about why he was here once. "I am not planning to kill anyone at this time, sir. There's no need to do so, since Savar tr'Khellian isn't dead."

James raised an eyebrow, "Interesting. Ok, tell me what's on your mind. What are you actually going to do?"

"Investigate his attempted assassination. Until he is, in fact, dead, I'm not forced to act on my promise - but by doing so now I save time and effort later. I had intended to compile a list of the individuals culpable in the attempt on his life that left him in a coma, and keep track of them so I'd know where to find them if the time came that I was required to act." Victor frowned slightly in one of the seemingly infinite number of variations he had on the facial expression. "I expect that I won't be permitted to complete my investigation, however."

James sighed, suspecting Victor Krieghoff to be slightly more paranoid than usual. "Ok... why would you suspect this?"

"The ones responsible will not allow it, sir. Once they understand that this is an unauthorized, private inquiry, they will simply have me killed." He blinked. "At least, they will try; whether or not they will succeed is another thing entirely. It depends on how badly they wish to try."

Corgan quipped, "Considering you're orbiting Romulus itself, considered by Reuters to be the universe's capital for intrigue and spy craft, your suspicions are not altogether unfounded. Alright..." James relented, as if delivering to Victor a great boon and the mother of all favors, "Go out there and find out what is going on. But Victor, a bit of advice?"

"Yes, sir?" The Commander was better at Victor at dealing with people, and any advice he gave would be worthwhile.

"You're smart." James said, "One of my smartest men. But here, I feel this cloak and dagger bullsh*t that I know you're going into will be out of your depth. Be careful. You have to remember that you're on foreign soil, where our rules and laws do not apply. The second you screw up and Savar's supposed enemies do not kill you, you will most likely end up in trouble with the local authorities." He rapped his table, scratching the surface slightly, "Romulans don't f**k around. Any opening at all, and they'll scream intergalactic incident. It won't be just your ass, but Starfleet and the Federation that will look bad if you are caught screwing up."

"I understand, sir," Victor nodded. "I'm not certain, though, that the responsible parties will want any attention drawn to their crimes. I feel it more likely that I will be killed in a regrettable accident, or become the victim of an even more regrettable instance of a politically-motivated crime of opportunity that will be laid at the door of some unpopular dissident." He blinked once. "At least, I believe they will try to arrange it that way; I do not intend to cooperate."

"Ok...." James hummed, "If you say so. Just try not to cause any trouble."

Victor frowned, still not certain that the Commander had fully thought through the meaning of his visit. "Sir, you do understand what it is that I intend to do, don't you?"

James honestly answered, "Since you won't just outright tell me in simple, easy to understand language, I suppose I don't. It involves possible death and a lot of skullduggery. Now out with it!"

"And you understand that the first - and only - link in the chain of those responsible is Atole Tekri, correct?"

James sighed, sinking his head into his hand. It was as if he had witnessed first-hand the germination of a great conspiracy that would culminate in the harvest of many lives. "The words Atole and Tekri are enough to tell me this isn't good. Just tell me, please? If it involves harming the woman that is taking care of my daughter, just to tell you... the answer is no."

"As I said, sir, I have no reason to harm her at this time. She is, however, the individual directly responsible for the current physical condition of Savar tr'Khellian - and that means that to advance further towards the individuals or individuals that ordered her to carry out the attack on him, I will have to speak to her."

James halted the Lieutenant. "I don't like it, Victor. I highly doubt she'll be forthright with you. From what I remember, she was cautious towards you, and that's putting it lightly. What makes you think that she'll talk to you, much less tell you everything she knows?"

Victor considered that for a few seconds. "I don't know, sir. If she tells me nothing, then all I can do is watch to see who she communicates with to report my interest. If she gives me a name or location, then it is either a trap or genuinely the next step in the chain - or both - and I will proceed along it." He blinked. "As well as continue to watch her and see who she communicates with regarding what she told me of course."

"That is an awful lot for you to do," noted James, "I'm just worried about what you would do. You can be heavy handed at times, and Madam Tekri can be reactionary. If provoked, she will defend herself. Are you sure you won't hurt her?"

"Only if she attacked me and I was forced to defend myself, sir," Victor replied tonelessly. "In that event, I would be forced to kill her. Like you, she is too dangerous to be given a chance to."

James conceded with a nod. "Oh, I know that too well." ~"If I didn't have sex with her that first time, she would have left a headless body in the whale tanks..."~ His short reminiscence of one his more seedier (but more enjoyable by far) moments was brushed aside. He suggested his hands crossed and his fingers clasping each other, "You should let me talk to her. She may not co-operate with you. But with me, she'll be more receptive. That will leave you to watch over those who contact her." ~"And me to watch over you in case you do something stupid..."~

"That would make things easier, yes," Victor conceded. "You are better at talking to people than I am. They never seem to understand me, or don't seem to understand that most things are very simple if you ignore all the complications people insist in wrapping them in."

"Complications aside," James agreed, "I can do that better than you. I work with grey areas all the time. Doesn't get easier, and I'm far from a pro, but I can do it better than you. I'll contact her right away."

"How do you want to do this, sir?" Victor asked. "And when?"

The Commander wryly smiled, "Stay on standby. Besides, I need someone to watch over the Jem'Hadar while I go talk to Tekri. After that, we'll go from there."

That seemed reasonable enough to Victor. There was, after all, no immediate rush. Savar wasn't going anywhere, and, if the reports he'd read upon returning to the Galaxy were true, neither were they. At least, not any time soon. "All right, sir." He studied James for a moment in his head-tilted way, and then nodded towards the picture of Mika on James' desk. "Will that present a problem for you, sir? Speaking to her? I do not wish to cause difficulties for you and your partner."

"Oh that?" James jested poorly, his attempt to downplay the tension between himself and Mika failing miserably, "Couldn't get much worse. We had an argument about it... but it's ok now. She was even there for Nuhir's birth, and considering combining Mika and Atole is like combining matter with anti-matter... it's progress. Still, she is a little upset with me."

"If you want, I will speak to her and explain why you are doing this," Victor offered. "It's simple enough that there shouldn't be any misunderstandings."

James grinned, nodded, but spoke with a lightly sarcastic tone, "It's never simple with women. You understand Andorians better than I do, and that's after reading that manual your aunts gave me. Maybe you can talk to her."

"Now or later?" Victor asked. His few encounters with the Commander's partner had led him to believe that she was not like his Aunts in at least one way: she hadn't tried to introduce him to any women.

Nodding his head, James halted Victor's oddly enthusiastic approach. "Wait until she's finished teaching classes for the day."

That would, Victor decided, be easy enough. "As I have no desire to inflict my presence on the children, sir, that would be ideal. I will communicate back with you afterwards. I expect that it will be unnecessary - your partner will likely contact you as well - but in the event that she doesn't, or that there is a misunderstanding, it seems prudent."

OOC: This takes place about two days after Anna is released from sickbay. Need to post this cause it a lead into the storyline we are about to start.

"Normalcy"

Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea
Lt. Ella Grey

:: Engineering, USS Galaxy ::

Brianna walked into the Engineering section and paused as she stood just a few feet away from the 'pool table'. Her mind was fighting the urge to just return to her quarters and the closet that was felt safe. Her body wouldn't allow her that comfort, she couldn't hide out and pretend the world didn't exist. Anna had forced herself to get up, get dressed and come down here to try and find herself back to some semi degree of normalcy. Thankfully, Karyn, had agreed to let her go back to work at least part time for now.

Ella looked up from where she was working and then set down her tools and walked over to O'Shea. The other woman looked good for what she'd been through although she did sort of have a look in her eyes like she was ready to bolt. She smiled warmly in greeting. "Welcome back."

Anna was struggling; her hands trembled as she clutched them tightly together. Her eyes focused on Ella and forced a nod. Unable to say anything or the emotions would overcome her control. She felt locked down inside, she wanted to scream, run... hide. Taking a deep breath she slowly exhaled. "Can... we talk in private?" Anna asked, almost sounding unsure if she should ask such a thing. Seeing Ella gesturing toward the chief's office, Anna reached out and grabbed her arm. She could feel Anna's trembling. "No... not there." Anna couldn't go in there yet, mainly cause she'd read up on what the clone had done.

"Sure, let's duck in here." Ella said, pulling the other woman's arm for a moment in the direction she wanted but then letting go. She didn't want it to look like she was supporting the other woman; Anna didn't need stories of an emotional breakdown going through the grapevine.

"Take a few breaths, Anna." The engineer suggested after the entered the empty room.

Anna took a couple of deep breaths. Just as Ella had suggested. Fact was she was talking with Ella was cause she knew her long time back. "I have to work, Ella, or I'm going to spend the rest... of my life hiding." Anna said. "For me to work and get back my life... I need help." Anna said. "I need you run between me and the crew for a little while. My emotions are just under the surface. I don't want to become the bitch of engineering."

"I can do that." Ella replied. "But only for a little while. They need to know that you're the boss and that's hard to establish when I'm the mouthpiece."

Nodding she understood. "That's all I need, just a little time. I have to get back to work and we both know counseling is watching me. If I'm not working, then I'm lost to my own thoughts." Anna said, not going into it how she wanted to just hide or telling anything about how for the last few nights she has slept inside her closet cause it felt more secure. "What.. what was the clone like?" Anna asked.

Ella twisted her lips as she thought about it. "Just like you." She said finally. "Same manner, same reactions. That's why we were all shocked when we thought you had betrayed us."

Anna looked away as her eyes filled with tears. It was tough hearing she wasn't identifiable or rather easily replaced without anyone noticing anything. Wiping her face she turned. "Have you began to check everything that.. that she did while on board?" Anna asked.

Ella made a face. "You wouldn't believe the mess we have on our hands, Chief. Just when we think we've got it all, something new pops up. So far there hasn't been too much damage but I think there's more to come."

Anna nodded and her face turned darkly, showing just how much her emotional state was just under the surface. "We've got to make sure things are up and running.... double up the teams, if you need to." She said then looked around the alcove where they were talking. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

The engineer shook her head. "Nothing other than its good to have you back."

Looking to her friend, yes, Ella was her friend. Anna's eyes softened briefly. "I know you have many questions... I'm not ready to go into it yet." She said, then looked down. "Since I've gotten back, no one speaks to me, the only comfort I have is when I sit and rest in my closet because it feels safe. I've been stripped of everything I held dear, Ella, not sure how to get it back or if I have the strength to do it." Anna said, then sighed and looked to her once more. "I have to work, I need the normalcy."

If anything, Ella could appreciate that. Work was always something that she had fallen back on in the past. "Let me know if you need anything."

She wanted to add further that the woman was safe now, that hiding only let them win, etc. but it wasn't really her place and who was she to give advice she herself would probably not follow.

Anna nodded. "Lets.. lets get back to work." Anna said, then stepped outside. For a moment there was hesitation on where to start. Until finally she moved over to the central console and looked down at it and began to check out some of the ship's systems.

"Moving Jitters"

Nara, Bran & Saia

*****Soon-To-Be-Former Quarters*****

Saia looked between the two woman. They all three sat on the couch, Saia sandwiched between them.

"You have been pretty quiet, hon." Bran said to the girl. "What do you think of the move. You will finally have your own room."

Saia shrugged, "I suppose." She seemed pretty unresponsive to the change.

Nara looked at her strangely, not really sure what to expect her reaction to be.

"That doesn't sound very enthusiastic." Bran said. "Are you not happy getting your own room?"

Saia shrugged, "What did you expect?"

"Honestly, I would have expected a girl like you arrange to be ecstatic to have your own room. But maybe that is because I wanted it so badly when I was growing up. Were you happy with things the way they were?" Bran asked earnestly.

Saia just shrugged. She didn't how to express it, yet could't understand why they couldn't understand. Home was Trill. But the home she knew there would never be home again. Her parents weren't there. Her home city was forever scarred and changed by the ship that crashed there. And a starship could hardly be called a home. Even at ten years old, Saia understood Nara wouldn't stay there forever.

"I just go where Nara goes." Was the meloncholy statement she finally found.

Bran realised that she had been neglecting the girl lately so focused on her own problems.

"Hon.' She said gently. "Can you just tell me what you are feeling right now?"

Another shrug.

Nara watched the conversation a bit before speaking up, "If you rather stay here, we can."

Saia shrugged yet again, "They all look about the same don't they?"

"But you've been in that room since you came here." Nara pried.

"It's YOUR room, Nara." Saia reminded her.

"So you would like your own room?"

Sighing with exasperation, and rolling her eyes, Saia answered, "It would be nice, ok?" Scooting off the couch, she muttered, "Sheesh."

Nara raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Yea, too much time with Sam."

"Let me have a try." Bran said and then followed Saia to her room.

At the entrance she knocked on the door. "Saia, may I come in for a moment?"

Saia, meanwhile had started to stack some things on the bed, "Not stopping you."

Bran came in and sat down on a free corner of the bed. "Are you happy here, Saia?" She then asked the girl. "I mean here on the ship."

Without turning and opening a drawer, she answered, "What does it matter?"

"Yes. Because you deserve to be happy, hon." Bran said. "We all want that, Saia. We love you, but we want you to be happy. If this is not the place for you then tell us and we will help."

Saia just shrugged again, "I'm not UNhappy."

"That's not the same as saying you are happy." Bran said quietly.

"Here or there doesn't make much a difference. We're still on this ship."

"It is pretty different isn't it, living on a ship, compared to a planet?"

Saia stood silent a moment before turning to sit on the bed and slumped, "I miss Trill." It was the first time she admitted it in months. She didn't really expect to go back anytime soon. So much she couldn't control, let alone where the ship went. Not even where Nara could take a shuttle.

Branwen had thought as much. "I understand, Saia, many of the adults here miss their homes, and we all chose our careers, you on the other hand didn't have a choice. And now we have made a decision about rooms without you again. That must severely piss you off."

Saia shrugged, "No, you just asked me. I'm really ok with it. Nara doesn't need to be sleeping on the couch. She's the one that needs a room."

"But what else could we do to make you miss your home planet less?" The marine asked.

Saia shrugged and hopped off the bed, "Don't know." She went to the table where her glass of some purple drink was and took a sip.

Nara had been sitting there, thinking and watched Saia a moment when she came in before turning to look at Bran.

Branwen was uncertain what to do. She didn't know if Nara was aware that the girl was homesick and she didn't want to break Saia's confidence. So she waited to see what would happen.

Nara understood the homesickness. There was rarely a day of some week she didn't miss Sakaria. She, and many other Starfleet officers had learned to push it aside. Saia was a child and in all reality and sanity shouldn't even be asked to do such a thing.

It also wasn't something she and Saia hadn't talked about and tried to deal with before. Nothing helped. Not the Holodeck, nor reading, not even Jerik's teaching of Trill culture and history wasn't helping. If anything, it likely made her more wanting to go to Trill.

Nara asked softly, "Do you want to go to Trill to stay with your Grandmother?"

Saia looked at Nara like she was crazy, "What?"

"Just as an option."

"I know you more than her."

Nara couldn't help but smile at that. She supposed for some people, they would rather be with a famailar face in unfamaliar surroundings than with an unfamailar face in a famailar place. "Like I said, it's just an option. So is this it? We're moving?"

Saia sighed, "I never said I didn't want to."

Nara nodded and walked over to Bran still smiling and wispered, "Let it be for now," as she moved past to the bathroom.

Bran followed Nara out. "I didn't realize." She said when they were alone. "Sorry for not being more involved lately."

Nara stopped and turned, "What are you getting at?"

"How torn she is." Bran said. "She is homesick, Nara. And yet there is nobody there for her to return to."

Nara nodded, "She'll be ok. I won't say she's not traumatized, but there's not much we can do for her. Listen when she wants to talk; leave her be when she rather not. She's strong and she's survived a lot." Nara smiled proudly, "I'm very proud of her actually."

"Yes and I am proud of the way you are dealing. But we should both keep an eye on her. She went through a lot for a little girl." She hesitated. "How is she relating to Saul?"

Nara found herself shrugging. "Eh, she's rubbing off on me. Really, she doesn't seem to mind him. He's just another adult to her as far as I can see. He's not looking for a family, Bran and I won't force one on him."

"Hmmmm.' She said then changed the subject. "So shall we let her chose a room first?"

Nara nodded, "I think she'll like that." She then wispered, "Even if she won't admit it."

"Let's do that then.' Bran grinned.

Nara nodded, "We've got to deal with packing first." She frowned, "Don't look forward to that."

Bran groaned. "Let's go do it then. As I am leaving on mission soon we need to get this finished."

Nara shook her head, "Let's not rush it. It'll be stressful as is. We'll finish for you if you have to leave before we finish."

"Really? You already hate packing your own stuff."

Nara laughed, "Oh, you're gonna pack it. We'll just move the boxes to your room for you." She winked.

Bran laughed as well. "Then I still have to get going and get packed to finish in time."

Catalyst: "Spoilsport"

(Takes Place 1 day after the "Here Be Pirates" cycle)

Principal Characters

Lt. Branwen London
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Flight Officer Angelienia

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

Branwen knocked on Victor's door. It had been a little over a week since they had last talked; she knew we had been away on a mission again. Not that she knew much about it, and knowing him he wouldn't talk about it at all.

The door panel flashed back at her in a complex panel for a few seconds before there was a 'click' and it slid open, revealing someone that Bran knew on sight - one of the Vanguard pilots, Flight Officer Angelienia, one of only three Ktarians aboard the Galaxy. "Lieutenant," the blonde woman nodded with a smile, "come in."

Branwen was pleasantly surprised. It worried her that Victor didn't have many friends. "Thank you ma'am," she said and followed her. "Is Victor home?"

"He's in back," the pilot indicated the door to the bedroom area. "I brought by something for him to try on - a costume for one of his holodeck programs - and he's making sure it fits." She waved at the stark and bare main room. "If you want to have a seat, he shouldn't be much longer."

"Thank you ma'am." Bran said and sat down. "It's good to see him interacting with friends," she smiled.

Angelienia glanced at the closed door to the sleeping area. "I don't know that 'friends' is what we are; he doesn't define things the way other people do." She eyed Bran with a hint of warning. "But if you're here to try and get close to him, stick to just being friends."

"Friends are exactly what I want to be. I don't understand why he finds it so difficult to say he is my friend. He acts like one."

"I'm not sure," the Ktarian said quietly. "I think that it's because there are too many layers to the concept, though; too many ways to define it. It seems to me that he hasn't got much experience interacting with people socially, at least when they're not terrified of him, so he may not have any understanding of what you mean when you say 'friend.'" She glanced at the door again. "From what I can tell, he divides people into only a few categories: family, people he talks to, people he protects, and people he has to kill. There might be others, but those are the ones he's mentioned to people that I was able to track down. The closest thing to what you mean by 'friend' is probably his category of 'people he talks to' - but when he says that, he literally means only that and nothing more - they're people that he can talk to without having them run away."

"It is so sad really." Branwen said. "He has so much to offer. And I really don't understand that he doesn't see a therapist more often. I talked to Commander Dallas about that, she is his therapist, and she didn't seem really eager to see him more often. Very strange," She mused.

Angelienia shook her head. "Not strange at all. She hates him, or is so scared of him that there's no difference between the two." Her eyes narrowed. "I think she'd send him away - to one of those moons where they lock up people that scare them - if she could."

"What makes you think she hates him? She is his therapist. I am sure that if she hated him or was that scared of him she would ask another therapist to take over his case." Branwen knew the Commander was very professional.

"Of course she is, haven't you ever seen her when she's near him?" Angelienia scowled. "It's obvious. Besides, she did transfer him to someone else, months ago."

"She didn't tell me when we talked about him." Branwen said. "I have never seen them together. I really cannot understand people being afraid of Victor, he is so cute and cuddly," she said frowning.

The Ktarian pilot looked at Bran for a moment. "Then you've never really seen him," she said quietly. "He's many things, but cute and cuddly aren't among them."

"It's a difference of opinion than. He's helped me greatly during these difficult times." Branwen said stubbornly.

"I didn't say he couldn't help someone," Angelienia pointed out softly. "He does that all the time, even if most people don't see it for what it is because they're too busy running away from him. Even the ones that don't run can't always see what he's doing, or trying to do for them, because of the way he is. They keep expecting him to be like them, to mean what they mean when he says things... and he isn't and doesn't. He means exactly what he says, nothing more and nothing less, he's..." the door to the bedroom slid open. "...finished now," the Ktarian continued smoothly, as if the way her sentence finished had anything to do with the way it began. "I told you he wouldn't be long."

"Did it fit?" Angelienia asked, turning towards Victor with a hesitant expression.

"Yes," Victor nodded. "You did a good job."

The Ktarian woman lit up at the words as if someone had flipped a switch inside her, everything from her eyes to her posture shifting, becoming more vibrant and alive as she smiled at the security officer. "Are you... going to wear it tonight?"

Victor tilted his head to the side for a moment as he looked at her, and then past her to Bran. "Lieutenant," he said in his toneless way, before looking back at Angelienia. "Yes," he said after a second. "The holodecks are still off-limits, but I reserved a room where we can have music and space to dance - Deck 14, Lounge 3."

Angelienia smiled and nodded. "I'll see you there," she replied, nodded to Bran, and was gone.

Victor waited for the door to his quarters to close before he asked Bran, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

Branwen had been watching the two together and immediately picked up that Angelienia really liked Victor. Very cute, she thought. "Here I am, a little later than we agreed. How was the away trip, Victor?"

Victor considered that for a moment. How should he describe what had happened? He decided to go with a slightly abbreviated version of his report to Commander Corgan. "We surveyed a system. There were pirates there. They captured us. We escaped. I killed people. Nothing unusual."

"You were captured? They didn't... They didn't hurt you and the others did they?" Branwen swallowed.

"Not like the Hydrans hurt you, no," Victor replied. He'd have known, and would have killed everything there as he'd promised the pirates. "Bruises that healed, yes, but no phantoms hunting people in their minds."

"I am glad, Victor." She said seriously. "I am glad they had you to look after them." Now she smiled at him.

"I am not certain that they are," Victor replied, "People rarely seem glad that I was anywhere after I leave." He shrugged. "But the incident is over and done with now, and worrying about what people do or don't think of me is pointless." He frowned at Bran. "I was not contacted by your counselor, Lieutenant."

"Should you be? As you can see I'm doing much better, Victor. Let's go and have fun today."

Victor's frown deepened. "No."

"No?" She stared back at him hands on her hips.

"No, you're not better. You haven't told her everything." It would have been easier if the Lieutenant had done what she should have.

"Who died and made you a therapist?" she asked. "I am talking to Kimberly, at my own pace. Look, I am smiling, that means I am doing much better."

"Dead people smile, Lieutenant. I smile. That doesn't mean that we're happy, or that everything's okay." Victor shook his head. "A smile is muscles on your face moving in a specific pattern. There could be any number of reasons for it."

"But you say you don't understand people, you don't want to understand people. How can you say that I am not better?" She was really curious. "How can you judge that?"

"No, Lieutenant, I didn't say that I didn't understand *you* - I said that you don't understand *me.* They are not the same thing. As for how I know...." His frown dropped away and a slight chill slipped through the room, as if a wind had blown through it below the level of normal matter, slowing the movement of molecules from within. Victor smiled slightly, a predator's smile, like an animal confronting its dinner. "I always know when prey is running, Lieutenant," he finished.

"Oh Victor," she giggled. "You should work on that smile. Right now it's a bit sinister and that won't do. Now tell me what are we going to do today? And what are you and Angelienia doing tonight?"

He shrugged. "It is what it is, Lieutenant. I am what I am." Victor looked at her for a moment. "Call your therapist. Dance."

"You need to work on it if you want to find a nice girlfriend," she said. "Dancing, you?" Bran smiled.

Victor frowned. "I thought that we'd already covered that, Lieutenant: I'm not a good friend no matter what sex the person I'm supposed to be being friends with is." Perhaps he needed to return to the padd for this conversation after all. "And yes, I said 'dancing."

"Is that your hobby, dancing?" she asked.

That took a moment's thought. Was it a hobby? Or was it something else? And what did the Lieutenant mean by 'hobby' when she said it? "No. Dancing is... dancing. Like hunting is hunting. I do them because they're part of me."

"You're describing a hobby, a passionate hobby, Victor," she said a little bit amused. "And she is your dance partner?"

"We dance together, yes."

"And do you do other things together?" She watched him closely.

For a moment Victor wondered if Angelienia was telling people the things she'd told them before again. No, he decided, she wasn't. She'd promised him that she wouldn't once they'd started to dance together, and she wanted to dance more than she wanted others to think they were family. Maybe on the Lieutenant's world people didn't dance with one another unless they were family? There were a number of cultures like that; back when he'd been an Ensign aboard the USS Durendal there had even been an incident where an Operations Officer had gotten herself married that way without realizing it. "We eat together sometimes, after dancing," he answered. "She talks sometimes when we dance, or after. We don't do the other things that she wants to do, though." The latter was, he supposed, what the Lieutenant really wanted to know.

"The other things she wants to do?" she asked innocently.

Victor looked at her for a moment, trying to decide if he understood the question. Wasn't it obvious what Angelienia wanted, what she'd always wanted them to be? "She wants us to be family, Lieutenant," he replied. Then, to forestall another question, he clarified, "She wants to have sex with me."

Branwen couldn't keep from smiling. "I see." He was cleverer then she thought he would be. "And does that sound so distasteful to you?"

Why would she think that he thought it would be distasteful? "How it tastes has nothing to do with it, Lieutenant. She and I aren't family, so it wouldn't be real, it would be... nothing." The one time he'd let himself believe that he'd found someone that would be family and done it had felt good - very, very, good - just like it was supposed to; otherwise people wouldn't be so interested in doing it, even when they weren't family. "I've had enough nothing in my life, Lieutenant; I'm not going to do that again and add more."

"Victor," she said softly. "People can become family if you let them in. She seems like a nice woman. And she obviously loves you. Do you like spending time with her?"

That question required him to think a moment too. Did he enjoy spending time with Angelienia? Was it more than just dancing? He didn't know. "We dance every night."

"Every night, and you like that? Hell Victor that makes her practically family. You obviously like having her around."

Victor considered that too. Did he enjoy spending time with her? He'd never thought about it, he'd just danced. Would he miss having Angelienia there when he danced? Was there any point to this conversation? What did he feel when he held her as they danced? Was it different than when he danced with a hologram? A live partner was better, true, but did that mean something other than merely that? He frowned and pushed the thoughts aside to send them spiraling down into the void inside him... Was it his imagination or had it taken more effort to do that than it had before? "We dance, Lieutenant. That doesn't make us family, just dancing partners."

"Victor..." She searched for his eyes and held them. "Don't be afraid to think about it. Just the thought that it could be more, or could become more is not scary. It's a beautiful thing and you are worth it, my friend."

Fear. That was at least something he didn't have to think about. "I've only ever been afraid of one thing, Lieutenant, just one. I know both what it is and how much truth there is to that fear - and whether or not she and I might become family isn't it."

"It isn't the only thing you are afraid of, Victor. You are afraid of life itself." She said sadly.

"No, Lieutenant, I'm not. There's nothing to fear about life. You're born, you do what it is that you were born to do or be what you were born to be, and then you die and move on to wherever it is that you're supposed to go. It's simple."

"It's not simple. That is what people who are afraid of life say. Of living it to the full." She touched his uniform over his heart. "People are afraid of opening this to others."

"Understandably, Lieutenant - every time I do it to someone, they die shortly thereafter. Most organisms are not designed to support life functions with their circulatory system's central pump removed."

She giggled. "Victor, you know what I mean. Man, you are so funny."

Victor frowned at her, trying to decide what it was that he'd said that seemed to amuse the Lieutenant so much. "No, I'm not. No one wants to see me being funny, Lieutenant. That only happens when something bad is coming. Something bad, violent... and lethal."

"You underestimate yourself, Victor, you always do. You have so much to share with others; as a friend, and as more than a friend. I wish you would realize that about yourself. And maybe talk to a therapist about it. I hear that you no longer see Commander Dallas? Who is your counselor now?"

"I talk to Lieutenant Marshal now. The Commander watches the sessions, though. She doesn't something bad to happen."

"Why would something bad happen? Lt. Marshal is an experienced therapist." Bran was really curious. "She sits in on them?"

"No, Lieutenant," Victor replied quietly, "me." He nodded toward her arm. "Has it healed?"

"You heard?" she asked. "... about my training accident?"

"I read the report, and watched the video log," Victor replied. Lieutenant O'Rourke had been livid over the incident and had chewed the Brig staff up one side of the hull and down the other over it. His reasons for reviewing it were less instructional than informational; Victor had needed to make certain that the Marine Commander hadn't decided to hunt in his territory. It didn't appear that he had - the incident seemed to be an isolated act - but he kept closer tabs on Baile now.

"You watched... they got it on tape." She squeaked. "Shit! ... then you saw it was all my own fault, I was disobeying orders." She watched him closely, a little bit afraid he would do something to her commanding officer.

"Not entirely, Lieutenant," Victor corrected. "He made the choice to injure you; it wasn't an instinctual lashing out. Although you do appear to have failed to have your hearing checked as I suggested some time ago. Had you done do, perhaps you might have heard him tell you to depart and avoided injury."

"Yeah, right. But who suspects your commanding officer will break your arm if you don't listen?" she said sarcastically. "It was a first for me. You won't hurt him will you?" she finished anxiously.

"Not unless he chooses to hunt in my territory," Victor replied. "If he makes that choice, then I'll deal with him the same way I dealt with Kragg and all the others that made that mistake. No one hunts here except me - and I choose not to."

"I am glad. I am also glad that you look out for me. I told Commander Dallas about it the other day. How I feel safe with you around. You are a true defender of women." She smiled.

A defender of women? Victor doubted that Commander Dallas considered him anything of the sort, assuming that she considered him at all in a way that didn't involve homicide. "Gender is a meaningless issue, Lieutenant. All that matters is that Starfleet gave you to me. Male, female, hermat, utterly genderless, none of that is significant."

"Starfleet gave me to you? Victor you have a pretty important view of yourself, you know that. Why not concentrate on your life instead of others?" She suggested.

Yes, the padd would have been easier. "This *is* my life, Lieutenant. I guard sheep, I don't hunt them. You and the others, sheep and wolves alike, are the herd that Starfleet gave to me to watch over when I was assigned here. No one hunts here, like I told you." He paused a moment, running back through their conversation. Yes, she had diverted his attention away from something, from the hunters in her mind. "I'll be calling your therapist now. Do you want to be here while I tell them what you will not?"

"No, no, no, we were passed that subject. Now you are the one changing the subject. We were talking about you now," she reminded him.

"Perhaps, Lieutenant - but I always do what I say I will - and I said that I would tell your counselor if you did not." Victor wondered how others got through the day trying to figure out if people really meant what they said. It was so much easier to simply do the things you said you would.

"You really don't have to. I also talked with my mentor Commander Dallas, and she said I could talk when I wanted to. So there is no reason to push me," she shot back.

"Yes, I do - because I said that I would," Victor replied as if that explained everything and answered all of Bran's objections. "Just like I told you that I allowed no one to hunt here." He reached for his combadge. "I always do what I say I will, Lieutenant. Always."

"Such a spoilsport." Branwen said. "You really disappoint me."

"I do that to people, Lieutenant," Victor said quietly, his pale blue eyes on Bran. "I told you that I wasn't a good friend - that's not what I'm good at." He blinked once, and keyed his combadge. =/\="Krieghoff to Doctor Burton."=/\=

"Aww... Victor." She tried to get at his badge, play-acting with him. "Yes you are."

"No, I'm not." His voice shifted tonally, the words almost those of someone, something, else, that was simply using Victor as a puppet to speak them. "If I showed you the only thing I'm good at, you wouldn't see anything else, ever again."

{{OOC: Warning - explicit content. Song lyrics by mike chapman & holly knight}}

"Love is a Battlefield" - part I

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer

Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer

***** Nara's Quarters *****

Nara stood before the mirror looking at her reflection. Her outfit consisted of a lavender dress whose flowing skirt fell mid thigh with a form-fitting halter style top. Her hair was down, natural waves left free.

Right on time, her date arrived. As she ordered the door open, the first thing she noticed was that in total contrast of her outfit, Saul was wearing a duty uniform that has seen better days. He dropped two bags on the floor, and knelt beside one of them.

"Change of plans, Princess... I'm taking off once again. So I thought I should throw a goodbye dinner instead of the original plan."

With a sly smile, he reached for one of the bags, and revealed several small boxes and bottles, and what seemed to be a container of... chicken eggs?

Growing up on a space station, it wasn't a surprise when someone had to just up and leave. Still her face showed a bit of sadness as she knelt close to him, "So we're having a picnic?" The sadness now changed to amusement at what the ever interesting Saul had now come up with as she watched him pull out his containers.

"Worse.", Saul muttered.

A smile came as she became more amused, waiting for the explanation.

He lifted a bottle of sauce. "I'm making you dinner. Survival not guaranteed. And don't ask how I got unreplicated eggs on a starship, please. Where can I heat up the food?"

She laughed, "Uh, sorry. Nowhere in here."

"I assumed so.". Another item emerged from the bag. It was an odd, undecorated box. Saul's hands hovered above it, and immediately a purple flame sprang. Saul gazed at it longingly.

"Haven't used this for nearly two years. Anyhow, in today's menu we have Pasta el papa Alfredo with cream, Mekoan mushrooms, and white Bolarus wine. The eggs are for the infamous Bental cheese omelette. And for dessert we have a surprise. If you want any Sakarian dishes - you'll need to cook them yourself."

Nara shook her head still laughing, "Heck no. I wanna see how well you cook."

* * *

You're begging me to go, you're making me stay

Why do you hurt me so bad?

It would help me to know

Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?

Believe me, believe me, I can't tell you why

But I'm trapped by your love, and I'm chained to your side

We are young, heartache to heartache we stand

No promises, no demands

Love is a battlefield

* * *

Steam rose from the pot, and a rich smell filled the room's air. Saul brought the spoon close to his mouth, and a single drop of sauce fell to his tongue.

"Should've brought walnuts.", He commented.

She looked at him, am amused smirk still on her lips from watching him cook, "Why?"

"Better taste. What else? So how are you? With all the turmoil I don't think we even spoke since... since we reached ch'Rihan."

She sat back sighing, "Actually I do have something to talk to you about, but it's kind of hard." The nervous look on her face proved the fact.

Saul stirred the sauce in broad, fluent motions. Something in her tone didn't sound right, and he was half hoping that he was a telepath and could at least get a hint of what she was about to tell him.

"Go ahead.", He said, pretending to be more interested in the texture of the sauce.

She sighed and muttered something about counselor's orders. Glad he seemed more interested in looking at the sauce, she played with the scarf tied around her waist as she answered, "I know we basically decided this was all on a trial basis. I'm not asking for anything to change, but..." She shook her head laughing nervously, "We've already said we loved each other." She turned solemn again, almost forgetting to breathe as she talked, "I think I'm realizing how much. I'm tired of denying you and myself really."

The spoon stopped stirring, and Saul lifted his eyes to meet hers. "We spoke about 'giving it a try' after Mirusa, no? That's a long time ago. I think we can pretty much say that the attempt was successful, Princess. The only problem from my point of view is that sometimes I might vanish - the mission

I'm about to participate in is a good example - but that's not because of you, or us. It's because I have to. Be it our job, or... other reasons. So please don't feel unconfident about me."

A rare emotion - a pang of remorse - crossed Saul's heart. One of these days he might vanish, and leave her alone. With Andrus on board, that day may come sooner than he anticipated. In fact, going on this mission was quite a relief since it'll put a distance between him and that Betazoid bastard who exposed the connection between him and Joord.

He knew that he couldn't let his emotions for her tie him down. What if he'd let Chava tie him down, and make him give up leaving Utrecht III back when he was seventeen? He would still be stuck in that hole, without hope, and definetly without becoming a senior officer on board one of the most famous cruisers in Starfleet.

She moved closer to him, putting a hand on his arm, "I'm not unconfident. I know there are no guarantees, but I want to make most of what time we have. I'm very touched by what you said, but I meant denying the physical aspect. I'm tired of letting some dusty memory keep us from that."

"Me too.", Saul confessed the obvious, then turned off the flame. "So what are we going to do about it?"

She looked determined, with a glint of playfulness in her eyes, "Fight like I never fought before. More specifically," she moved closer to him, "keep my eyes on you. Focus."

"You make it sound like a competition.", Saul smiled faintly. He wasn't sure if in his eyes, Nara 's state of mind was better than before. She made it sound like an objective needed to be conquered, not an act of love.

Then again, as 8-Ball would probably phrase it, 'getting laid is getting laid'.

"Don't worry. I'll let you win." She looked at the pot and then at him, "So we'll save the food for later?"

"I'll let milady decide.", Saul smirked.

She smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, "I think we'll build up quite an appetite." She leaned into him to give him a passionate kiss.

"definitely.", Saul muttered as their lips parted. "Your roommates?"

Naturally as a woman, she was ready to explain where they were, but desire overcame that as she whispered in his ear, "Gone. For a long time." Then she nibbled his ear, moving down the side of his neck.

Without unlocking their embrace, Saul made sure that the semi-prepared dinner could be left unmonitored. Then, gently but firmly, he led her toward the door on the far end of the room.

{{OOC: Warning - explicit content. Song lyrics by mike chapman & holly knight}}

"Love is a Battlefield" - part II

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell , Engineer

Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer

***** Nara's Quarters *****

Without unlocking their embrace, Saul made sure that the semi-prepared dinner could be left unmonitored. Then, softly but firmly, he took her hand and led her toward the door on the far end of the room.

She let him lead her and once in the room, she reached up and started untying the cloth holding up the top part of the dress. After a moment, she looked frustrated and muttered, "Tied it too tight."

He came behind her, and she could feel his fingers fluttering on her back. It tickled slightly.

"Remember.", He whispered in her ear, as he untied the knot and the top part fell into his hands, "whenever you want, say stop and I will."

She smiled at the touch, but shook her head at his words, "Give me sex or give me death!" It was apparent she thought of this as something to conquer. It helped her somewhat. Made her less nervous. It also showed that she spent a little too much time with 8-Ball Hunter.

It also turned her partner off.

But not for too long, as the remnants of Nara's dress landed on the floor, revealing a well shaped body. One worthy of a princess. Still standing behind her, Saul wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer. His fingers traced the curves of her shoulders, then slowly inspected their way toward the tenderness that was her breasts.

She smiled and relaxed into his caress as her hands reached up to his arms. Having another idea, but figured he wouldn't approve of it, she pushed it aside. No matter how shallow the contact she could guarantee, she knew from the beginning his weariness of telepathy. So she kept her focus on his touch, his smell.

Slowly, he removed his hands, and sat on the bed. Memories came, from a much more uncomfortable yet no less unique place - Nara's cave, on Sakaria.

"Would you help me with it? I'm going to board the warbird with this uniform.", He told her, as he tried to pull the uniform over his head.

She turned and helped him pull it off, smiling looking at his chest, letting her hands roam over it before looking into his eyes. She took the shirt and gently laid it on a chair and then looked at him, smirking, "Need help with the pants?"

"Thought you'd never ask.", He replied, reaching out to touch a strand of dark brown hair.

She put her hands on his waist, working them to undo the pants he wore. As she did so, she reached up to kiss his chin. His lips touched her nose, then he leaned backward. It came as a surprise, and since she was leaning on him she found herself lying on top of him, with nothing between them but underpants. And it was thin enough for her to feel him harden, down there.

He rolled on his side, kissing her so passionately it was almost violent. Her body pressed against his, she sensed first hints of sweat on his chest. And there was another, new sensation - she was so swept away, she failed to notice that his hands descended downwards. Each one was working miracles on either thigh, both slowly converging on the center.

In the darkness, their eyes met.

She gulped, trying to find her voice as she whispered, "Saul." Her hands pressed into his shoulders as a leg moved to entwine with one of his.

"Princess?", He paused, the tips of his fingers slipping under her underpants.

Her body arched toward his fingers and a moan escaped her lips as her head tilted up, eyes having closed. She felt the memory sneaking up, but hearing the nickname, shook her head and opened her eyes to look at him. Her arms wrapped around him, as well as her legs, "I'm fine."

There was no audible response, but he began massaging her. Circles were formed on her lower lips. At first it was alarming, but then tiny jolts of pleasure began to fill her body as he pressed against her, almost penetrating her.

"You're amazing.", He whispered, his breath making her shiver.

She winced as her mind became jumbled with overwhelming pleasure and overwhelming fear as the memory, though not vivid, cast ghosts upon her. Her breath quickened as she struggled to keep her eyes open and on Saul. "Hurry." The plea was natural desire and fear of if not now, she may back away again.

She felt him break contact. After a moment of unclarity, he lowered himself toward her, and she felt him, she felt IT, on her gates. It was the first time he was naked next to her, and she couldn't help but catch a glance of what happened below. Then, she could feel him sliding in, its path becoming smoother and easier because of her own wetness.

She gripped him with her arms and legs, her eyes seeing what was very obviously Saul, even if parts were newly seen. But her mind mixed what was happening with the memory. She trembled beneath him, her nerves taking a beating. After he was completely in and rested a moment, she relaxed a bit, taking a hand to touch his face.

Then, they began to move in unison, slowly at first, then more rapidly and even violently. And soon, they became one.

* * *

Were losing control

Will you turn me away or touch me deep inside?

And before this gets old, will it still feel the same?

Theres no way this will die

But if we get much closer, I could lose control

And if your heart surrenders, youll need me to hold

We are strong, no one can tell us were wrong

Searchin our hearts for so long, both of us knowing

Love is a battlefield

* * *

"Dinner is served."

Saul was already back in uniform. Unknown to Nara, he had exactly six minutes left before he had to start running like a maniac to his quarters

where Chava waited. Right now, the biggest problem on his mind was that the Pasta and the Omelette may not be as tasty as he planned because they needed to be reheated before being served.

She had been looking at him for awhile, with a smile. Still amused, but also an admiration for him. "Thank you by the way."

"What for?"

"Well, for being so wonderful for one." Then after taking a bite, she added, "And for a delicious dinner."

Saul sliced his Omelette, and enjoy the smell before putting it in its mouth. The month he spent as a cook's aide on that Tellarite shuttle on his way to Earth really paid off.

"You know, where I come from, when you sleep with a gorgeous woman you usually thank her and not the other way around.", He indicated.

"When the woman has demons to fight, and you helped her, I think you deserve

a little credit, Saul Bental."

Saul sighed inwardly, wishing that his own private demons could be won by having sex.

He finished off the rest of the omelette before replying. " Nara, I only hope that next time you'll regard it as something enjoyable rather than a challenge. And trust me.", His mouth twisted to the infamous Saullish grin, "There WILL be a next time."

She smirked, "Well, now that the contest is won, believe me, I'm already thinking of ideas." She leaned closer, "It'll be your reward for coming back alive." She laughed, "Sorry. I guess to look at it differently makes it easier to deal with." She moved over to him, hugging him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder, "It was enjoyable once I got past everything. You..." She kissed his neck, "Are absolutely delectable."

He thought of a funny retort, but figured it would be more appropriate to just stroke her silky hair. The moment lingered, until no more time was left.

"Lehitraot, Princess.", He said, as he slipped away from her arms and lifted his bag.

She walked with him to the door as she spoke a Sakarian phrase that translated to, "Be safe brave soldier and come home well."

* * *

We are strong,
no one can tell us were wrong
Searchin our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing
Love is a battlefield.

"Goals"

Lt. Ella Grey

========

The transfer of power to O’Shea had gone easier than Ella would have initially expected, at least from her end.

More than a few engineers looked at her out of the corner of their eyes when O’Shea was giving orders and even Anna seemed like she would rather be ejected into space like a breached warp core than be in charge again but Ella couldn’t have been happier. The clone had given her the opportunity of taking a crack at playing chief and she had come to realize that while some people were born to lead and others were born to follow, Ella liked to get what she wanted by working around people and controlling situations from the sidelines.

That and the fact that she liked working towards a goal and since she'd pretty much crossed everything off her mental Engineering to-do list, Ella thought that nothing suited her better than for O'Shea to come back and take the reins. She was going to do her job, she was going to help free the Galaxy from what some of the junior engineers had started to refer to as the Clone Wars, and she was going to make damned sure that the other engineers fell in line and excepted Anna.

And then she was transferring out of Engineering to become a pilot.

And when that eventually got old, Ella thought, well, she'd once wanted to be a veterinarian...

OOC: This is a backpost, set about a week or so before the current missions started. It also ends the side story that was running with this group. Apologies for the delay. Robert S

"There Be Pirates."

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Dhanishta Eshe
Assistant Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer

Kio
Medical Officer

Ensign Lela Beral
Operations Officer

Flight Officer Ember Lansky
Fighter Pilot/Helm Officer

Sub-Commander Delon Velal
Romulan Naval Intelligence Officer

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

Stood just outside the cell door Kimberly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked around. As disgusted by what she'd done as she was, even she realised there was a time and a place for panicking, and while now was looking more and more like a very good time, that was definitely the time 'not' to panic.

Repeating the cover of her favourite book to herself over and over again she spat on the floor to clear her mouth and coughed once or twice to clear her throat, "Let's go," she muttered a little hoarsely, "I think we've definitely over stayed our welcome here," she decided.

As she stood there, a familiar feeling - like needles of icy fear working their way into her spine - crept up on her out of the darkness further down the corridor. A moment later, an equally familiar voice slipped out of the darkness. "You didn't wait to be released, Lieutenant," Victor said as he moved into the light, dragging a pathetic bundle of rags behind him. "Good - it's not always a wise plan."

Dhanishta stepped out of the cell behind Burton, her features were as ashen as the doctors. Looking up at the 'thing' walking towards her she felt Burton tense beside her. Not wanting to feel any more from the woman Dhani tried to close herself off to her, raise her mental blocks. But they failed her. Possibly a fitting punishment for what she had just done.

Guilt stricken she stared at the floor for she couldn't look at Burton. At this moment she wondered if she would be able to look at herself in a mirror again. She was truly despicable. She was the monster in her dreams. She felt the bile rising in her stomach and fought to keep it down.

"I think we need to get the others and then leave." Dhani said pushing herself away from the wall she had come to rest against. She headed down the hall silently counting out the numbers of cell doors she passed, retracing her memorized steps from before.

"Here." Dhani announced stopping outside one of the black cell doors, "Ember and Lela are in there."

Looking back down the hall, "Mr. Krieghoff if you would?" she said indicating the door. She could have blown it herself but she was not feeling particularly up to the challenge. Besides she had wiped Burtons mind once today she didn't really want to do it again, ever.

Victor nodded. "Lieutenant," he said quietly as he pushed his towed bundle towards Kimberly, revealing it to be a Ferengi female, unconscious and securely bound and gagged with strips of her clothing. "If you would take charge of my prisoner?"

Having been following silently, still numb from the events in the prison cell, Kimberly looked down at the lump on the floor before her and took a moment for the pathetic form to register on her mind.

Relieved of the slight burden Thrawicki's still form had placed on him, Victor examined the door. "Standard construction,. There will be a forcefield inside," he observed as he produced a sonic coder identical to the ones the pirates had carried and aimed it at the door. "One thing at a time." As he cycled through signals, searching for the one that operated the door, he added, "Are either of you good with a knife?"

"No!" Kimberly replied flatly, kneeling beside the prostate form she checked what had been dumped at her feet, "Lieutenant, mind explaining this?" she asked, "and why you're giving it to me?"

"It's a prisoner, Lieutenant," Victor replied as he altered the speed the coder was cycling through signals. "You capture them alive and interrogate them for information as opposed to killing them out of hand. Starfleet likes it when we do it that way."

Standing she looked at Victor with undisguised hatred in her voice and eyes, "Mind if I ask just what you mean by that," she snapped, for an irrational moment she assumed he was making some reference to the body lying in the cell she had just left.

Victor looked up from the coder and studied Kimberly for a moment. The tone of her voice suggested that she was angry about something, but what it was escaped him. "Exactly what I said, Lieutenant," he replied. "You asked why I had a prisoner and I answered you. If you already knew that, or didn't like the answer, that isn't my fault." He turned back to the coder and adjusted the settings again. "I asked you to watch out for the prisoner because you were on the correct side to do so. If you'd rather, I can ask the other Lieutenant to watch out for her?"

"Just open the damn door," she ordered, trying to remember to keep her voice down, "then let's find Kio and get the hell out of here!" Looking down at the unconscious lump on the floor before her she tried to think of what to do with it, ~ Hell, Lansky or Beral can have it, ~ she decided.

The door gave a sudden 'bleep' and slid open, revealing a force field inside, and, on the other side of it, the officers Dhani had indicated.

Victor pocketed the coder and produced a field inhibitor, using it to open a hole in the force field as the Klingon that had released him had done. "Hurry," he instructed the pair as they carefully manoeuvred through the hole in the field. "We don't have a lot of time."

"Move out you two," Kimberly ordered Lansky and Beral, "we don't have a great deal of time," indicating the lump on the floor, "look after this," she ordered flatly.

Dhanishta found herself totally away with the fairies. She had seemed to miss the interaction between the two officers, even though she knew they were talking or possibly arguing. She was just lost, consumed by her own thoughts.

As Krieghoff opened the door the beep brought her back to focus on something. Get out, get everyone, and get out. Lethargically, as if she had been stuck in the same position for a long time, posing for a paining perhaps, she walked forward down the hall.

She was going to find Kio. She didn't have a clue what cell the medical officer was in but she had to find her. Something deep inside called out for the emotionally devoid Vulcan.

And if by some magic she found herself standing outside a door, ripping the key pad panel off with some cross between reserve strength and telekinetics that she wasn't even aware she was using. She thrust her hand inside, grabbing hold of the EPS taps, and isolinear circuits she yanked them out, breaking them; shorting the door lock.

The current ran through her hand and into her body. She shuddered with its force but did not waver. The current seemed to run through her and mingle with her own energy. As a familiar smell of charred flesh wafted into her nostrils she removed her hand and stared numbly at it.

The burns began to form blisters before her eyes. She stared at them, mesmerized totally detached. Dhani didn't notice the door open. The next thing she saw was Kio standing before her, wearing an expression extremely uncommon for a Vulcan.

"I." Dhani began staring into Kio's dark eyes, she felt compelled to tell her everything. She could feel the words form on her tongue ~I killed a man with my mind Kio..~ she heard the words in her head, felt her soul cry out ~help me Kio please.~

*click*

"I burned my hand." Dhani said coldly, "We can sort it later. We need to go now." Turning abruptly, eye contact severed with her child hood companion, Dhani lead the way down the corridor towards Krieghoff and Burton.

Kio, momentarily stunned by what she had just *seen* both with her naked eye and her other more elusive senses hesitated only for a moment. Taking a deep breath as if to steady her-self from what was to come she followed Dhani down the corridor. It was almost time, she grimly thought to her-self.

Victor nodded as the pair rejoined the group. In Dhani's absence, he'd stripped a pair of wires and improvised a crude recharge circuit for an archaic Type 1 Phaser, currently greedily drinking up power. "They'll figure out that we've gone soon," he said in his toneless but menacing way. "I have a map to an escape vehicle - they've already started to strip the runabout; it's useless to us." He looked down at the phaser, decided that it had enough power for any fight he'd be likely to need it for, and pulled it free of the wires. "Do any of you know how to use a knife?" he asked quietly. "I have one, if so. I asked before, but now that all of you are here." He paused. "Where is the Romulan?"

Just then Delon's form stepped out from the shadows. He looked as if he had been someone's punching bag, and he had been. Only now his face held a more aggressive, almost scary look with the trickles of green blood coming from his eyes and lips. "The... Romulan... is here." He said as he looked around. "Are we ready to stop playing and leave?" he asked, in a dark humor for a Romulan.

"Yes," Victor replied. He fished out the Nausicaan knife and offered it to the Sub-Commander. "Can you put this to good use?" he asked.

"I can, indeed." Delon stated, accepting the knife and showing how he handled it with the same tenacity that a Nausicaan would.

"I have a prisoner as well," Victor continued, reclaiming the bound bundle from Beral. "Your people will have questions. She was dropped in my cell to try and get information from me, which means she knows enough to answer them. Some of them, anyway."

Taking a breath Kimberly shook herself back into the present, ~ Recriminations can wait! ~ she decided, "Lead the way then Mr Krieghoff," she ordered, "let' go before anyone realises what we're doing shall we." ~ I'll panic later! ~ she decided.

Victor nodded and produced the small padd the Klingon had given him and brought up the map to the escape craft. "This should get you there in case we're separated, Lieutenant," he said as he handed the device to Kimberly. "There should be a vessel suitable for making an escape attempt in the indicated bay."

Accepting the PADD she simply indicated the corridor ahead with a nod, "After you Mr Krieghoff," she instructed. Watching as he set off she motioned for everyone else to follow him and brought up the rear. Perhaps not a sound move, considering she was unarmed and completely unprepared to fight, but the last place she wanted to be was up front.

Dhani stood still dazed and somewhat confused, "They are coming." she said absently staring at the empty space before her. "They are coming and they are angry." she smiled, almost chuckled at something no one else heard or felt.

Kio looked at her friend for a long moment and her lips compressed into a tighter line but she did not say a word.

~ Oh this just gets better and better, ~ Kimberly thought sourly, ~ Just what else can go wrong! ~

~ Bugger! I didn't just think that! ~

Sounds suddenly erupted from all around them; shouting, screaming the whine of disrupter blasts. The lights above flickered before cutting out completely. For a moment darkness surrounded them and then the backup's kicked in casting an eerie subdued glow. Chaos ensued as one by one the prison cell doors opened and their tortured occupants fled to their freedom. And then the claxons began to howl.

The only clear order amidst the head splitting, ear bleeding riot was; "RUN!"

“Welcome Home O’Shea” Pt 1

Acting Assistant Chief of Engineering Lt (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe

Lieutenant Jiiles (NPC - written by Dru)

(Set straight after the away mission “There Be Pirates” concludes, roughly one week before the departure to Cheron)

***USS Galaxy***

“What happened?”

“O’Shea is what happened!” she stated flatly.

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said, O’Shea happened. I can’t believe that I stuck up for her. I really can’t. If I ever see her again… you know what I’d do?”

She didn’t wait fro him to reply, “I’ll wring her bloody neck. That’s what I’d do!” as she walked down the hall her hands acted out the punishment on thin air. “She rigged the runabout. Almost got us all killed.” she continued, slight hysteria lacing her tone.

“Talk me though it.” he said in an annoyingly calm voice as he walked beside her down the hall, “From the beginning. Did you do the pre flight checks?”

Her nostrils flared at the suggestion that she hadn’t, “Of course I did!” she spat back.

“So?” he questioned ignoring her tone, “What happened next?”

Dhani stopped in the middle of the corridor rolling her eyes she huffed and took in a deep grating sigh of frustration. “I don’t know!” she said placing her head in her hands. Rubbing her tired eyes she shook her head to try and wake herself up, and went over it once more, “I did the checks, everything was fine. Krieghoff sent me some plans for the search, I modified them. We started the scans. All pretty standard. Then there were some unusual readings…”

“Do you remember what they were?” Jiiles asked softly as he watched Dhanishtas face scrunch up in concentration.

She shook her head, “No. But it was a Klingon Bird of Prey; it decloaked.” She clarified, “It got us in a tractor. We were going to fire torpedoes at it and try to break free, but before Burton made the order to fire, the systems went dead. They just shut down. There was no warning, no nothing. I don’t even remember the back up’s kicking in. And then that was it. Boom.” Dhani said opening her eyes and continuing their trajectory down the corridor.

“Boom?” Jiiles questioned confused following on.

“Yeah, boom, flash, pop, frizzle!” Dhani shrugged, “Whatever you wanna call it. They threw in shock grenades and we hit the deck. Out cold.”

“Even Krieghoff?” Jiiles asked surprised.

“Even Krieghoff.” Dhani confirmed with a nod.

Jiiles pondered for a moment, he thought nothing could take out that giant. At least now he knew what to start with if it was ever needed. “And then?” he probed on.

“Then I woke up in a prison cell with Burton.”

Jiiles nodded. He paused in his thoughts wondering what that was like. He knew of Dhanis aversion to Doctors, who didn’t! “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Dhanishta didn’t reply. She kept on walking down the hall as if he hadn’t spoken.

Jiiles frowned and found himself walking double time to keep up with her, “What happened?” he asked again, noting the bandages he added “To your hand, did they hurt you?” he asked concern knitting his brow.

Dhani glanced down at her hand and shrugged, it was strange but it still didn’t hurt. She thought that the pain would have set in by now…

“No not really.” she shrugged, “I don’t really want to talk about it.” she said waving her hand dismissively.

Jiiles nodded slowly. He understood that whatever happened she was not ready to talk, he worried too that maybe she had been hurt, or subjected to torture. Part of him fumed inside, he pushed down the deep need to protect her, after all it was too late. Whatever damage had been done it had, well, been done. Nothing he could do now to change it.

“There’s something you should know.” he began tenderly, “While you were gone we found out that the O’Shea that was on the ship was a clone…”

“What do you mean ‘the one that was on the ship’?” Dhanishta asked, interrupting.

Jiiles continued, “She was actually captured when she went on a trip to Romulas with Omar, back when they were dating…”

“What do you mean ‘the one that was on the ship’?” Dhanishta asked again biting down on her anger at being ignored.

“She was taken to a prison labour camp, the kind that you die in….”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ONE THAT WAS ON THE SHIP?” Dhanishta shouted whirling round to face him.

Jiiles looked at Dhanishtas face, then down at her hand and then back to her face and the expression it now adorned. She had just come back from a routine mission where her ship had failed due to sabotage, she had been captured and held hostage…. he scratched his ear absently as he realised this really wasn’t the best time to tell her about their former Chief (aka the saboteur) being alive and well (as in she was alive!) and on the ship.

He swallowed hard, “She is in Sick bay…. What are you going to do to her?”

Dhanishtas eyes widened, and there was a slight sparkle to them; quite terrifying.

~What am I going to do to her?~ a voice shrieked inside Dhanis head ~apart from tear her limb from limb? Make her feel as worthless as she made me feel…~ She whirled past him in a blur.

“Dhanishta!” he shouted as she entered a turbo lift, “Where are you going? She was captured, held hostage beaten and abused….”

‘Sickbay’ he heard her call out before the doors closed.

“Awww SMEG!” Jiiles shouted out running down the hall.

“Welcome Home O’Shea” Pt 2

Acting Assistant Chief of Engineering Lt (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Brianna O'Shea - Returned Chief of Engineering

Lieutenant Jiiles (NPC)

(Set straight after the away mission “There Be Pirates” concludes, roughly one week before the departure to Cheron)

***USS Galaxy***

Dhanishta didn’t wait to hear what else Jiiles had to say. She marched past him down the hall and into the turbo lift.

“Sick bay” she called out through gritted teeth.

She had, as ordered, left the Galaxy to go on some stupid mission headed up by the incompetent CMO, to gain information on the ‘Pirates’ in the area that used to be called the Romulan neutral zone.

And of course they had encountered problems! It was inevitable, no matter where she was something bad was just bound to happen.

So she did the pre flight checks, she did her job. But then a huge Klingon Bird Of Prey just had to turn up and lock them in a tractor beam, and all the CMO had to do was make the order to open fire, but she didn’t; she hesitated. Dhani wanted to shake her for that. Risking all their lives and for what? And then she remembered what Burton had said in the cell. No sooner had the commander hesitated all systems shut down.

And that was it black out. And if she could black out everything that happened after she woke up in that dingy cell she sure as hell would. Everything that had happened, *everything* could be accountable to one person; O’Shea.

It was O’Shea’s fault that Dhani had been promoted to acting assistant chief. And there-for it was O’Shea’s fault that she had been picked to go on that stupid mission. And it was sure as hell O’Shea’s fault that the systems failed on the runabout. And that meant everything that followed was her fault as well.

And she was going to pay for what she made Dhani do.

Dhani didn’t hear anything else Jiiles had said after the part about O’Shea is back and in sick bay.

She saw red. And was going to make sure that O’Shea saw nothing but the red lining of a coffin for the rest of her days!

The turbo lift doors opened. It was like a bull out of a stall…

***Sick Bay USS Galaxy***

Anna sat alone in one of the private wards away from the hustle and bustle of Sickbay. Having been monitored around the clock through the bio bed she now sat on the side of. Her hollow green eyes looked down at her hands which had been healed of the wounds and scars, but she still saw them. Hell even at times she could still feel the stinging; blistering pain she had felt for months.

When the doors opened, she didn't look up nor did she turn and look to see who it was. "Leave me... alone.... can you all just leave me be?" Anna said, her voice wasn't the one Dhani once knew. The strong, clear lined voice of a Starfleet officer. She then looked up and locked eyes with Dhani and held it for what seemed like forever. Searching her mind she remembered Dhani. She looked different, but her eyes were the same. The one question rang true in her mind, what had the clone done to her?

Dhanishta shook with the exertion it took to stand still and not rip out the throat of the woman, no correct that; the bitch sitting on the bio bed before her. But as their eyes locked the longing to lunge and strike her diminished, but the anger didn’t.

For the first time ever Dhani saw herself as others did. Looking at her former commanding officer brought it all home. When Dhani had returned she was skinny and bony; mal nourished. All her muscle had wasted away while she was lying in a coma. Her hair and nails were brittle, gone was the chic and shiny. And she had done little to change it. She now understood why Burton continually dogged her over and over about her health.

She could see through the skimpy garment that O’Shea wore, her ribs were extremely well defined. Too defined. Her hair looked as dry as a corn field in the height of summer on Vulcan! And her face; her cheek bones jutted out, her eyes were sunken and dark rings surrounded them. Looking at O’Shea was like looking in a mirror, involuntary she took a step back.

Those eyes…. If she could just turn away from them for a second… she felt her cheek tickle as a tear made its way to the floor.

She swallowed hard as she read those once beautiful innocent green eyes. Pain, suffering, guilt, loneliness, abandonment, fear; it was all in there. And it shouldn’t be. No-one should feel those things. Dhani felt the anger coiling, it hurt, physically hurt to see it all those things in a place they shouldn’t be. In a woman that shouldn’t have ever been in a place to have such memories etched into her soul. Dhani knew those feelings, she remembered them all too well. Though their origins were not the same the feelings, the emotions… they were.

“Never.” Dhanishta vowed that very second. Her voice came out as a whisper, she didn’t realise that after the first tear another had followed and they hadn’t stopped. She wiped her nose on her back of her hand and walked forward slowly. Kneeling down beside the bed in front of O’Shea she took her hands gently and gazed up into her eyes.

“Do you hear me Chief?” Dhani questioned softly, “Never.” She repeated reaching up and tucking an errand strand of O’Shea’s hair behind her ear.

Anna starred into Dhani's eyes and nodded before pulling Dhani up and hugging her, tightly. Dhani could now feel the near fragility in the embrace. Anna held on to her and said nothing, no words could say what was being said between the two women who really didn't know each other all that well, but their situations and trials and tribulations had somehow brought them to this point. A point of... survival.

Pulling back from Dhani, tears streamed down Anna's face. Her eyes still held the hollow emptiness they seemed to have. Behind the blood shot eyes and sadness, Dhani could see the anger, the pain. Though Anna never had to say anything.

Time seemed to move fast and slowly all at the same time. Dhani didn’t notice Jiiles enter Sick bay, hot on her heals. She didn’t even hear him crying out for her. But now as the tears blurred her vision she was forced to blink, and in that moment she saw him in the peripheral of her vision; standing dumbstruck, staring at her. She made no move towards him, just stayed kneeling before O’Shea.

Anna swallowed hard allowing some tears to run down her face. The physical pain had stopped, but the emotional pain remained.

After a while Dhani stood up slowly, kissed O’Shea on the forehead, wiped the tears that streaked her commander’s face and walked softly to the other side of the bed. Sitting down behind O’Shea, she gently wrapped her arms around her and coxed her into lying down.

Laying there on the bio bed Anna said nothing, nothing she could say that Dhani wasn't getting already. Resting her weathered hands over Dhani's she held on to her friend.

Through the embrace Dhani could feel O’Shea’s heart beating. She listened to it closely, listened to silent plea it made with each thump against the battered woman’s chest.

"Dhani.." Anna whispered finally. "I survived.... didn't I?" Anna asked.

Behind her Dhani cringed slightly, it was one way to put it. Truth be told she hadn’t, not yet. Right now she was still surviving. It would be a long time till the light at the other end of the tunnel would bathe her in its healing glow. Until then though, Dhani would do her best to bathe her in her own light, and prayed that it would be enough.

“Yes hon,” she whispered gently stroking O’Shea’s hair, “yes you did.”

With that, Anna wept until finally she was asleep resting peacefully for a change without the needs for medication.

"Blinded Fools"

The sun was just beginning to rise on Cheron. Its diffuse light separated into patches as it fought to break through the haze of morning. A small dustbowl was spawned off its aimless path by a dust devil that rose up out of the trampled sands of the planet, also eroding away the only traces of those that passed through.

A leather-clad boot stepped down, scattering dust particles that were caught in the maelstrom of the fading eddies of wind.

Director Leto raised a hand to cup over his eyes as he scanned the perimeter, blocking the quick-rising sun from cutting into his vision. Dust and sand particles pelted him as he surveyed the landscape before him.

Already the remaining group of Rihannsu researchers were up, some of the more courageous through the night, to hurry the completion of the memorial to the fallen heroes of the first Rihannsu/Federation War in 2160.

The immense obelisk made of a stark grey duranium reached high into the purple-red sky, scaffolding erected around its forty meter frame as the incomplete crew - the Remans were nowhere to be seen - buzzed around the memorial like bees top honey.

Let dropped the flap to his tent; he'd been holding it since stepping out of the place he'd called home for the last month, when a massive rumble reached his ears. The ground shook, forcing the older researcher to sway on his feet.

Jogging around to the rear of the khaki-shaded tarp that covered the modular unit, Leto caught a plume of smoke rising from above the outer perimeter a quarter-mile distant, where the force-shields kept out the as-yet-unseen foes that continually sabotaged their efforts to lay memoriam to the icons of an eon past.

How was he going to be able to complete this job? Assigned to the Cheron Project six months previous, his group had set ambitious goals, and for all intents and purposes, they'd been more successful than their respective governments had given them credit for. Remans and Rihannsu working together for the better good of building relations and equality between the two species?

Of course, what the nobles hadn't been able to grasp was that there was no reason for scientists to have the same beliefs as the hawk mentality leaders the RSE has had running their society for millennia. That the Remans, who've been subjugated to nothing more than slaves and cannon fodder since their inception, were able to overcome those prejudices and hatred towards their oppressors to settle into an arrangement to build this lasting monument to the Rihannsu was nothing short of amazing and a testament of strength. That his supervisors at the Institute and those the reported on the Senate couldn't see past their own egos caused Leto no shortage of ulcers. The Senate needed to get over their own wounded pride and work towards a lasting peace, but no... they had to continue the inane archaic views of a time long gone. Even the fact that Shinzon and his allies in the Reman forces were more powerful than the Rihannsu fleet was lost on them.

Ah, but then the old argument that Donatra had come home to her people would be forced down his throat. Donatra... did they honestly think giving her an honorary title - and that's exactly what it was no matter what anyone said - of Defence Minister was going to make her turn over and do whatever the Senate wanted? By the gods those fools were blind.

Now, all the convoluted politics had brought the Klingons here, arriving in typical barbarity of grunting and bellowing. They herded the Remans into their own encampment, accusing us of duplicity! And Shafar was taking his sweet damn time getting those reinforcements here. Now, a project started out as a research and memorial project had more military representatives than science. Maybe, if they were lucky, they'd be able to build a matching obelisk to celebrate a yet another Rihannsu/Klingon War! Not that it would a war, but rather a rout.

Leto would have shaken his head as his thoughts trailed off into the past as it often did lately.

Sweeping aside the Jalabiya he wore to improve air circulation in the humid climate, he reached to the utility belt on his waist and retrieved the subspace radio he tended to wear regularly since the attacks had begun.

Already the damage control teams were calling in responses. A shuttle flew overhead in the direction of the plume of smoke.

"Security, Director Leto here. Are we in any danger here?"

The unit crackled with static, sending a feedback loop through it as the Director put it to his ear. The scarf he wore to fend off the sometimes unpredictable and spontaneous sand storms absorbed most of the shrill notes, but still, he had to pull it back about two feet and switch hands. As he did so, another plume of smoke joined the first.

[... blown a pair of force-shield generators, but still no sign of them, Director! No casualties reported, but implementing standard procedures is recommended...] Another burst of static cut through the transmission.

"Security, report! Report!"

"Something we can assist you with, Director?"

Leto spun around, caught off-guard by the deeply basso voice. He'd not heard anyone come up behind him, and transporters were audibly noticeable, yet his distraction at the continuing attacks on the site were obviously demanding more of his primary attention to notice anything else.

"Captain Vergh! Come to gloat again at our ineffectual security?" It dawned on him that upon being set upon by the current Klingon leadership here on Cheron and his entourage of officers and Remans, that he himself had no one to protect him from the dha'rudh should he decide to kill the Director.

"Well, I could if you prefer, Director. They have been providing a good source of amusement for my officers at mealtime. And in celebrating one thing or another. And in the morning, the evening... pretty much all the time." Vergh crossed leather and talon strapped arms over his chest armor, belting out a good hearty laugh, his group quickly following suit. Even the Remans rumbled a low sound that Leto thought might be a chuckle, though he'd never heard it.

"Actually, I've come to assist you, Director." He loosened both arms, casting them about amongst them all, and opened up a toothy grin. "All in the interest of good relations, you see."

"Then get off this planet and never look back. Your tricks, intimidation, and whatever game you're playing are not going to win you any more entertainment from me, Captain." With any hope, none of them noticed Leto had thumbed a channel on his transceiver, sending the entire conversation to the security center. With luck and ruthless Rihannsu efficiency they should-

"No tricks, Klingon. You're surrounded."

"Tricks?" Vergh's attention was drawn to the new Romulan that appeared at Leto's elbow from around the back of the module. A quick look behind him revealed four more, and no doubt more were nearby. "I'm not Romulan. We don't play silly games of the mind. Only the Remans here can kill with that. You just pretend you can with your wit and silver-tongue. You're all snakes that need a little distraction and a quick slice of the neck to separate the head from body. Then you are dead. And not a very entertaining one at that. No, not at all."

"Then why not leave us to our research, Vergh? Why are you here if not to cause us trouble in our most important moment? You Klingons are in your element here, playing the village idiot just to get a little giggle for your nights of debauchery and barbarism. You know you can't open straight hostilities on a few scientists, so you get some anti-Rihannsu Remans to play some tricks on us, and have some drunk and rowdy officers set off armaments just to give us a headache."

Vergh's grin dropped like a tone in water to the bottom. Without a care, he approached Leto so close, the Romulan could smell the gagh on his breath. Such a disgusting race Klingons were. He thanked any gods he had that the scarf covering his mouth filtered out most of the offensive odor.

"Don't push it, Leto, or you'll find out just how barbarians treat the meek. We know about your Warbird coming, and it can't protect you either."

"Why is that? Lots of forces in orbit?"

Again, Vergh grinned, lifting one finger, its sharp claw clamped to the gauntlet covering the dark finger from tip to wrist. "Good effort, Romulan, but you are not an interrogator. Stick to your playing in the dirt."

"Perhaps not an interrogator of the living, Vergh, but I have plenty of experience in the dead telling me many secrets."

[D'Decius to Director Leto]

"Looks like our cavalry has arrived, Vergh. Now, you go play swords with each other. Just keep your drunken escapades down. You kept half the colonists awake last night with your horrible singing, unless that was your version of helping. Keeping the predators away with the shrilling?" He stepped away from the Klingon as he left him hanging with the rhetorical question, slipping in behind the Rihannsu khre'uhlan that had arrived earlier and taken up a defensive position with disruptor drawn.

"Leto here. You're late! We've had another act of sabotage, and security hasn't been able to check in."

[Our apologies, Director. We experienced some difficulties on the way here. We're ready to transport relief forces to your location on your order.]

"What have you sent me? Minister Shafar wasn't clear on numbers or sources."

[A contingent of RNI forces, four squads of Starfleet Marines, approximately a dozen support personnel from Starfleet itself. It is all we were able to muster on short notice. Have you been able to obtain any intelligence on Klingon forces?]

"No. They are proving... problematic. We're ill-equipped to perform any covert operations. I'll have my staff brief RNI with what we have."

[It will have to suffice. Where do you want the personnel placed?]

"Send them here to the main courtyard. They'll need to be vaccinated against radiation and processed for security clearances."

[Aye, Director. Beaming them down now. We'll be remaining in orbit for the next six days. We trust your problems will be resolved by then. D'Decius out.]

Leto closed off his end of the transmission, and returned to the Klingon group, who appeared irritated at being held. Vergh looked ready to kill someone. Good! It was high time the Klingon was made to feel threatened. Leto was beyond tired of his people lacking protection from the brutes. It felt good to put the Klingons in the same position.

"Let them go. Go back to whatever it is you do in the mornings, Vergh. Ritual killings of deadly ants, bobbing for bloodwine goblets, playing with your food, or whatever other ungodly things you do to each other. Your assistance isn't wanted or required." The hum of incoming transports signaled the arrival of the security forces. The older Rihannsu walked past the group without listening to a word they said in retort, signaling the first of the transported personnel that they were welcome, and he moved off to greet them.

"Vantage Point"

Lieutenant Saul Bental

Chief Tactical Officer

* * * Cheron * * *

The fog seemed to spill out of the cave's mouth like smoke in a cheap horror production. A single silhouette trod through the mists, ascending toward the open air. The natural stairs that formed the final twenty meters of the cave were smooth, and familiar to his feet.

Spears of chilly air impaled his breath as he went out in the open. The outcropping ended in a steep fall merely several feet away, but one could climb down safely from the hidden route that started just beyond the thorny Eqichalo bush to his left.

He will not be taking that path today.

He stood up to his full height, and reached for his temple. The eyepiece came to life, allowing his vision to penetrate the haze and magnify the vista that revealed itself to it.

His face contorted in an alien equivalent of smiling. The rolling hills were beautiful. He could even see the ruins of an urban center, spires crippled by ancient war and eroded by the overwhelming power of the years.

Life, however, briskly returned to the long-abandoned ruins. He caught sight of what looked like Oncha bugs to him, but in fact were people. Rihannsu.

And like Oncha bugs, they could be stepped upon.

He sat there and watched as one of the spires suddenly gave up, its top floors slowly sliding over its base before crashing down on the unsuspecting group. The cloud of dust rising from the derelict city streets as the top of the spire hit the ground obscured the view, even from his eyepiece. It did not matter, though, they did was done.

He felt a bit of professional satisfaction. He did not gloat, like the Klingon leader gloated at Director Leto just one hour earlier. His campaign required patience and focus. He did not mock the people who suffered in consequence of his actions, just like he did not feel sorry for them.

As a Starfleet Tactical Officer in a Warbird not far away would put it, every method was legit when it came to the agenda.

However, this time, what he did might actually lead to a true victory, not just another tiny step forward in the campaign. The coming days might be the turning point he was anticipating, the quantum leap that would make all of his efforts worthwhile.

The cloud of smoke began to dissipate. He spun around, clenched his open fist, and vanished again into the cave.

* * *

"Chief Tactical Officer's Log, Stardate 60407.08.

I hope the Galaxy is doing well.

Before departing, I've delegated the Chief Tactical Officer's administrative responsibilities to Lieutenant Remur, with Lieutenant Darkstar gaining full responsibility on bridge operations.

After losing Nieca to the Hydrans, a void was formed in the department's command structure, one which I haven't had time to fill. I think I'll let Nyoko maintain responsibility of the TAG, but I have no idea who I'm going to name as assistant chief. I suppose letting Chase assume administrative responsibilities will give her the advantage, if she handles it well. But then, Darkstar is a senior Lieutenant. He told me he'll let Bosco take the Beta shift, and…

Oh. Shite.

I just realized I let a nutty, Falafel hating Indian meat refrigerator and a horny cat the reins of the weapons of a Federation ship in orbit of the Romulan homeworld.

Crap.

No matter, if anything goes wrong, the best option a lone Starfleet vessel in orbit of the Romulan homeworld will have is to run away, FAST. And that's Miramon's responsibility, not mine.

I do hope it won't be necessary.

At any rate, soon, we'll be on Cheron. It's quite remarkable in my opinion that the Romulan empress herself asked Starfleet officers to lend a hand in a planet that's considered a monument for the Romulans' hatred of the Federation. The Romulans are proud, and defeats are sourly remembered. In their way, they take shame as bad as Klingons do. But Romulans don't get mad, they get even.

I truly hope that this isn't some sort of a plot. The only thing that makes me feel a little better with this mission is that the Romulans know they're took weak right now to make themselves another enemy. If they weren't so weak, they'd already kick the Klingons off Cheron and all the way back to Quonos. And yet, the Klingons remain.

I wonder what Kol think of his lovely colleagues.

A final thought. I have no idea why I was made part of the group heading for Cheron. Counselor Brian is considered the diplomatic specialist, and we have my 'favorite' Intelligence officer along for the ride too, so obviously my Intelligence skills aren't required. Couple that with the fact that I'm not going to act as a Tactical officer on board a Romulan warbird, and that the Galaxy needs its Tactical department running smoothly given the potentially hazardous situation, and you've got yourself quite a riddle.

I don't think Tarin herself knows what to do with me, but I'm not overly concerned. I'm going to lend her any help she'll need, and hopefully explore some of the unique ruins of this old battlefield. I hear there are at least three downed Federation starships in the vicinity of the crash site, and I'm definitely not going to miss the chance to take a close look at these relics.

Looking forward to see how and when will THIS mission go wrong,

End Personal log."

"Moral Laws of Telepathy"

Ensign Zev Raynor - Terran Telepath Intelligence Officer

USS Galaxy, Raynor's Quarters

Moral Laws of Telepathy

First Moral Law of Telepathy: A telepath may not enter the mind another without that person's express permission unless there is no other means to establish communication or if the telepath's life is threatened by that person.

Second Moral Law of Telepathy: A telepath may not disclose experiences shared with another to anyone esle without that person's express permission, unless the mental health of the telepath or the person is at risk.

Third Moral Law of Telepathy: A telepath may not use their mental abilities for anything other than communication and/or the sharing of information, unless the telepath's life is threatened.

Fourth Moral Law of Telepathy: A telepath may...

Raynor put down the book half way through the fourth law, and wondered how many times and in how many ways he had broken these laws. True the book was meant to be read by those telepaths were fully in control of their own abilities but... it still weighed itself heavily upon Raynor. The very nature of his abilities were different from other telepaths yet essentially the same. He was an oddity in a sea the mindful.

He felt alone, yet strangely never alone. He wanted to be alone though. He wanted to have to learn everything he knew himself rather than drawing experience from those who failed to cling to life. And for an instant he yearned for his own death... not from grief or dispair, but for confirmation. He felt he knew what it was to live, and to die, and yet he had never taken that road himself.

The First Law he could not help but break... or rather he was a victim of it. He was unable to stop himself from sharing a person's experiences of death and through that, their entire life. But the second... at Starfleet's "request" he divluged all information that he gathered in this manner. He broke that law after every battle.

Why did he stick around in this fleet? He was never sure... why did he even join in the first place?

He thought he knew the answer but... he questioned it. He questioned it from day one... but he wasn't about to go back on that reason, because to that would be to go back on everything that made him a Ronin.

While lost in his own thoughts about his past, he looked around the room. It was dark except for the single light that shined on where his book was. But even still he could see the mess.

Somehow he had managed to make a mess of the place... which was an accomplishment in itself... it had been said that these ships actually clean themselves. Little robots do the job while were out for the day or some such. He had never seen the machines, but then again he wasn't sure he wanted to.

How lazy humanity had become. How impatient. He wondered how they had managed to survive this long. But of course with greater capacity to do a task comes greater demand. Just because we could a single room completely sterile within minutes it was demanded across the ship, which could take hours or even days to complete the entire tour through each corner.

He wondered why he kept making these observations and yet for some reason didn't share them with anyone. And with this in mind he picked up the book and began to think once again about how much he didn't live up to it.

He was so going to kill himself one day. But not today.

He hoped.

"Anything else?"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

"All right people." Lt. London entered the small marine briefing room they had erected on the planet. "We all heard Lt. Tarin tell us what we need to do.' She said. In two hours time they would leave on a mission to find a small outpost and to offer relief there and scout the terrain at the same time.

"There will not be no transporters or shuttles because of atmospheric problems so it would be ground vehicles for the first part and then the last bit through difficult terrain, ladies." She said. "Departure time is in two hours from now, so look sharp. Gather your gear, gather info and be back here in 90 minutes. Let's show the navy what marines can do. Any questions?" She looked around.

Paulo wasn't sure why he had gotten drafted for this little side mission. He wasn't even sure why he had been drafted to come to this blasted planet. He was pretty sure, looking around, and most of the people didn't think he should be here. Hell, even he thought that. But for some reason, one of the higher ups thought it would be a good idea to send him here, and here he was.

Somehow he didn't think he'd be blowing much up this trip, but the marines needed another body and Thral's still worked just fine. Cheron was just another near deserted rock as far as he was concerned, though it was a historical site for the humans. However, they weren't here to look at crashed ships and old battlefields, they were here to find out what was going on here and stop it.

"No mam", Thral replied.

Amy looked around at the rest of the marines. She could see the look in their eyes, the hunger, the exhilaration they all felt at the chance of combat. She smiled at the prospect that, though they were only on this rock to provide support and defensive capabilities, she felt deep down in the core of her being that something was going to happen. Especially when you mixed Klingons, Romulans, Remans and members of the Federation into one big melting pot.

Running a hand through her azure colored hair, she locked eyes on the one person in the room that shouldn't have been there; the one individual that most definately didn't belong. He stood out like a sore thumb and Amy shivered at the thought of working with him; with a Romulan. When he looked in her direction, Amy didn't look away, and stared even harder, as if in a battle of wills to see who would break first. He did.

Turning back to the CO, Amy caught the response to one of the Marines' questions about what ordinance to take. When no one else spoke up next, she cleared her throat. "Sir, " She called out, "Will Lieutenants' Baile and Jonas be joining us? And.. " She paused for a moment. "Do we really need him tagging along?" She thumbed in the direction of the Romulan officer seated nearby.

Caboose looked at the Romulan for a moment, tilting his head just a little from where Caboose stood next to Lieutenant Ward and then he turned to regard.

VanDuren with a raised eyebrow "We're all siblings of the same corps spirit."

Caboose said in his usual manner. "Besides, he probally knows the layout pretty well."

Greg smirked just a little before nudging Caboose into being quiet again. "Everything is good, Private. He's clear." Greg said briefly.

Amy nodded. "Understood sir."

"And in answer to your earlier question, private." London said. "No they will not be joining us." She was not going to explain that Baile was still in the brig. "And yes we are here to work together with the Romulan empire. So I am going to expect the utmost professionalism and respect from my people."

Vaebn stood there, stoically, off to the side, listening to woman speak. He dared not react in any sort of jovial manner for fear of seeming smug and egotistical in the face of these Federation marines. There was a sense about the place that the majority of the assembled marines, much like himself, would rather not be working with him. He knew, from his latest intelligence briefing, that they would, for the most part, show him the professionalism and consideration that he was going to show them in return.

And he had been given the opportunity to choose his assignment, this would have been the last one on his list. Even working with a group of Klingons would have been preferable to this.

"What will be my role in this little adventure?" Paulo finally spoke up. He was one of the few non-marines in the group, and the only one (that he knew of) with such a "colorful" background. He was more or less useless at the momeny to anyone, due to his suspention.

"You have been volunteered for this mission." Branwen said. "I guess you will be kind of a general troubleshooter. And you will bring the navy's view to the mission." She told him.

Paulo simply nodded and looked over at the Romulan. The last time he had had extended contact with them was shortly after he had been tourted while AWOL. The Romulans had picked him up and farried him to the nearest Federation base. Paulo didn't know the names of the Romulans, but if it hadn't been for them on that day, he might not be here today. "Well, I guess that means I am ready," he said looking back towards London.

"Good." Bran said firmly. "Anything else, ladies and gentlemen?"

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