"Delilah"

Lieutenant Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

Saul's back was to the wall, the rifle in his hand. A device attached to the rifle lit the room as though it was out in broad day light. It was the first light to penetrate the room for over two hundred years.

He was the first to enter the Challenger, of course, inspecting it before allowing the rest of the Starfleet team to scour the vessel. Both the Romulan and the Reman assured him that their people didn't inspect the Challenger's hull before. Still, Saul insisted that the two of them accompany him. If the saboteurs were from either party, they would think twice before assaulting them.

"Clean.", He mumbled, and crossed the doorway to the next room. Behind him, both the young Romulan and the old Reman strolled, as though taking a trip in the garden.

The Romulan even made the occasional comment about Earthlings playing soldiers.

"What is our destination?", The Reman inquired after a while.

"Basically, I'm making sure that the hulk in general is safe, in terms of radiation levels, biological agents, sudden collapses, etcetera. I'm going to give the green light to the rest of the team soon, but first there's a place I would like to visit."

"Tourist.", The Romulan mumbled.

"By definition!", Saul stated proudly. He eyed the Reman as he did, recalling the old alien's comment about the Challenger being a sign of bad omen. The Reman remained impassive, like someone who already accepted death.

Saul shook his head. What an exaggeration.

A long corridor finally led him to his destination. It was a room at the heart of the ship, and before the ship crashed several locked doors and security mechanisms prevented the occasional visitor from snooping around. Now, the security measures were dead, like the rest of the ship, and the doors gave away easily to reveal the Intelligence chief's office.

The desk was broken in half, as if some invisible hammer was slammed to its midst and shattered it. There was dead wiring everywhere, and if there were paper files, time and fire (there were multiple burn marks on the walls) already consumed them.

The synthetic leather chair, amazingly, .remained intact. Saul sat on it, disregarding the other party members, and tapped his badge. "Flying Dutchman to Tomb raiders. Guys, coast is clear, feel free to board the Challenger."

He then leaned back in his seat, staring at the shattered desk and wondering if the poor soul that occupied this seat was one of the few survivors.

* * * 2160 * * *

Twenty four hours before her death, Lieutenant Commander Audris Schnider of the Starship Challenger sat in her office and reviewed combat reports.

Her role as the ship's intelligence officer was narrowed down to providing the Captain and with Intelligence, rather than to collect it for the benefit of the task force and the fleet. Even then, she couldn't do much good. What did they know about the enemy, truly? They were cunning, treacherous, and aggressive. Their intentions and motives were unknown, and so were their motivations. Their tactic methods were also still vastly unpredictable. Audris never even SAW a Romulan, and began to wonder if she'll see one during her lifetime.

If that wasn't enough, the task force was so far in deep space, that they weren't covered by stationary long range sensors or listening posts. The eyes and ears of the task force was the task force itself. It was, in two words, an Intelligence nightmare.

Audris grimaced as she read on. The stern woman was a descendant of one of the most famous women in Germany's history, Chancellor Angela Merkel. True to her roots, she was efficient, serious, and aloof to the point of being nicknamed 'Audrisbot' by the ship's XO. If they knew nothing of the Romulans, Audris determined, they might as well do the best with what they had in their hands.

She did hold high hopes for the upcoming battle. Although they knew nothing for certain, various moves by the enemy convinced the admiralty that by launching the task force, they may open up a path to the core worlds of the Romulans, and bring them to their knees in one swift move. It was a gamble, perhaps, but Audris went through all the evidence and agreed with the conclusions. Twenty four hours from now, this war may be won.

Or she could be dead. Or both.

Though she was aware of the risks, as she did when she joined the European forces and later the United Earth forces, she seemed less moved about the upcoming fight than most of the crew. There was no point of dwelling on it, her nearly mechanical mind rationalized, because brooding could only tamper with their abilities once the battle commences.

However, other things did trouble her, and they had nothing to do with the battle. In the past few days, something changed on the ship. She couldn't put her finger on it, but an Intelligence officer with her experience usually gets his position by having, among other things, a good intuition.

She tried to transfer her intuition to facts. The Captain seemed more distant than always. That's logical, given the upcoming battle. Captains are people too. There was also several yellow alerts recently, and several crewmembers that she no longer saw on the officers' mess in the regular hours. And also, it seemed that a horde of black cats passed between the Captain and the XO… and there were other, little things. A light suddenly flickering; People where they shouldn't be; Then there were…

Audris smiled. "Perhaps I'm not Audrisbot after all.", She sighed.

However, after the third time she read the report about the battle of Galorndon core, she decided to ease her mind by going over the ship's records and briefly scanning the databases. As the officer responsible for counter intelligence, it was well within her authority to audit the databases, and she didn't have to tell anyone that she did it because Audris Schnider is afraid of ghosts.

She casually began to monitor the information traffic. Statistics about database queries, changes in resource allocation, changes in personnel placement, weapons payload, and so forth. She was glad to see that the weaponry officer took her recommendations about altering the ship's torpedo arrays to better suit the preemptive tactics she presented to the Captain three days ago.

Then, she saw it for the first time. She probably wouldn't have noticed, after going over two hundred database entries, that this one existed. But it was an entry made by the Captain. And seventeen records later there was another alternation by the Captain.

A wrinkle formed on her forehead.

It was probably nothing. Perhaps a codename to some activity for boosting the crew's morale, or another ambitious junior engineer's project. She could imagine Ensign Kalidas sitting in his hole and thinking to himself 'I'll increase the plasma pressure in conduit 7G by 0.02% and call it 'Project Delilah'.

But more and more her eyes were drawn to references to 'Delilah', which were drowned in the ocean of shipboard data. But more and more she was convinced that it wasn't negligible as she assumed at first.

She asked the computer to access the Delilah database, and the response was surprising.

[Access denied]

"Sie müssen scherzen. "

She tapped her console, and established connection to the Captain's yeoman's office.

"This is Commander Schnider. I want to move my meeting with the Captain. The sooner the better. Yes. Yes. Danke."

* * *

"I understand, Commander."

Audris folded her arms. "Sir, I AM the Chief Intelligence officer on board."

The Captain visibly suppressed a snort. Both him and Audris knew how much that meant, with the meager intelligence they had on the Romulans. "I am well aware of your role, and you perform it admirably.", The Captain replied. "If I thought that Delilah has any relevance to you, I would've briefed you about it. Personally, I think it's silly, but I was specifically instructed to keep all mark five and higher databases and projects on need to know basis. I believe that you'll find that there are a dozen other engineering and OPS related databases that you have no access to. This is a critical moment in this war, and the admiralty decided that we can't take any risks."

"I see."

The Captain leaned forward. "Audris, this is ridiculous. Of all my senior staff, you're the last one I expected to deal with trivialities before tomorrow. But I understand where this is coming from. You feel like someone's gnawing on your responsibility, and I assure you that no one is. This is simple protocol."

"I understand. I apologize for bringing the issue forward."

"It's nothing. And the reports you brought to my attention on the first part of the meeting was more than enough to compensate. Dismissed, and get some rest before tomorrow."

Somewhat crestfallen, Audris began to make the long journey back to her office. She kept her eyes mostly on the floor, feeling like a food. What was she thinking, troubling the Captain at a time like that? As if he didn't have enough on his mind as it was.

She was deep in thoughts, but not deep enough to prevent her from identifying the officer that headed in her direction, from the opposite end of the corridor. It was Kalidas, the diminutive Indian engineer which she always thought of as the ship's goblin. He was also one of the five people which made queries to the Delilah database.

"Raj.", She waved at him. His wide dark eyes grew a little wider, and his pace slowed. He nodded sharply at her.

"Say, Raj…", Audris rushed, well aware of the engineer's short attention span. "Are you working on 'Delilah'?"

The engineer stiffened for a moment. Then he made a pathetic noise, somewhere between a grunt and a yelp, and resumed his stride, extra quick. In fact, Audris never saw someone walk so fast without running.

She clenched her fists.

Another trait she inherited from her ancestors was this: She hated being treated like a fool.

War was just declared, a day ahead of schedule.

"They Say Time's A Healer - Part 4"

Michael McDowell
Civilian Engineering specialist

Private Alliya Yhwalyan
Marine recon scout (APC - Written by Dru)

*** Deck 11, Holodeck 3 ***

This was going to be a "Never Ending Story", or so it seemed to Michael. He'd been busy trying to repair this Holodeck for the past 3 hours and all he found was a view altered isolinear chips and crossed data pathways. A few beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead as he moved into another impossible position. He wondered why the designers hadn't put this access panel a bit higher.

"Hand me the Tricorder, will you?" he said while he peered at the next Block of islonear chips. It was the last block he had to scan to see if there was anything strange about it.

Alliya complied and handed him the scanner. "So tell me something else about your childhood." she asked having covered little so far. It was difficult to get a conversation out of him but she was trying none the less to be sociable.

"My childhood," Michael started, once he decided to go along with Alliya this time, "...was pretty good. I got to play around on the University where my Father holds the Chair for Applied Mathematics. While he gave lectures the students looked after me. Only downside was that they gave me too much candy, though at the time I didn't have any trouble with it."

"And now?" Alliya asked suppressing a yawn. It could have been him, his lack of conversation and his anecdotes that were one liners, or it could have been the fact that she had been sitting here for ages handing him tool after tool and drink after drink... whichever it was she was bored stiff, and numb to boot. She really wanted to ask if he was finished yet, she also wanted to go back to her quarters and go to bed as it was getting late and she had an early start in the morning. But she was a little reluctant to say either to him for fear of having some random, unidentifiable engineering tool thrown at her or lodged in a personal place!

Michael didn't answer right away but scanned one of the dozens of sub-processors. When he didn't find anything out of the ordinary he went on to the next. "Funny...I thought you knew the answer to that question already." he said a bit surprised. After all, she knew he worked in the Engineering Department. He stopped with what he was doing and turn his head slightly to look at Alliya. She probably wanted to know about something else. "What you mean with 'And now?'."

Alliya looked up with sleepy eyes, "You said that they gave you too much candy... you didn't see anything wrong with it at the time.... so... what about now? Do you see something wrong with candy now? It's not like your fat or anything so I really don’t get it. Have you had your teeth replaced or something?"

"Nah, nothing like that. I got strong teeth and I exercise at the gym on a regular basis. It's just that everyone knows that eating too much Candy isn't good. I didn't really know that at the time. I was only 4 years old." Michael sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "You know, I'm really beginning to dislike this thing." he said and stood up. "So much so that I'd rather tear it down then repair it."

Alliya frowned, "Now I could have done that all by myself. In fact I think you were the one that stopped me from taking it to pieces." she pouted slightly, "And I always did enjoy taking things apart." she added sorrowfully.

"If I knew that you were gonna give up so soon I would have spent the afternoon hassling some one that could at least pretend they had a back bone!" she stood up abruptly although she had no intention of going anywhere. She just liked the dramatics.

Michael tried to find a witty comment himself to give her an apt reply but didn't find anything he could use. "Uh, yes, I think you could put it that way. You could be a little nicer though. Believe me, I did my best."

She tilted her head to one side and regarded him for a moment." You're best is obviously not good enough!" she replied in a monotone.

Shrugging her shoulders she looked back longingly at the Hollodeck door and sighed. "It's not gonna happen, is it?" she asked, already resigned to what the answer would be.

"No, I don't think so." Michael started to pick up the various tools and put them back in the Engineering Toolkit.

"Wanna get a drink?" she offered having accepted the fact that she wasn't going to be able to train tonight, and she had to admit that as annoying and dry as the conversation had been, she thoroughly enjoyed ripping strips off McDowell, and she was more than curious at how he handled his liquor!

For some moments Michael thought she was joking, but after looking Alliya he knew she wasn't. However, he didn't understand why she wanted to have a drink with him. "Am I still talking to the same woman who verbally abused me this afternoon?"

She smiled; she had to admit he did, at least, have a sense of humor. "Yup." she nodded, "Got a problem with that?" she asked in a serious tone eyeballing him.

Michael frowned. "You're strange, you know that? Are you playing a Dominatrix when you're off duty by any chance?" He shook his head. Women it seems could never be fully understood.

She stared at him for a moment, offended by the accusation. But after a moment she almost smiled, the image appearing in her head. She really would look good in leather!

Refraining from commenting she watched as he packed the rest of his things away and then sauntered down the corridor, hips swaying.

After he closed his Toolkit Michael looked up, watching Alliya as she walked down the hallway. She sure was all woman, no doubt about that. But she wasn't Dhani. Still, there was something about her. Michael kept staring until she rounded a corner, torn between the two choices he had - to follow her or not. "Ah, what the heck." he mumbled. "A few drinks. No big deal."

He stood on his feet again and followed that path that Alliya had taken. It didn’t take that long to catch up with her. "Does the offer still stand or am I too late?"

Alliya flashed him a smile, "Your place or mine?"

OOC: Clearly a backpost when Anna was first brought onboard.

"Wanting to die"

Cmdr Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor/Nurse
Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea
Ensign Kio, Medical Officer
Ensign Zev Raynor, Intelligence Officer
Provisional Ensign Vorducaat, Medical Doctor
With couple security officers

:: Sickbay, USS Galaxy ::

Kio helped her steady Anna long enough to administer meds to stop the seizing and Dallas immediately added the strongest antibiotic she dared given Anna's compromised health.

Anna laid there and sighed. Managing to open her eyes briefly and look up at the lights over head. As her hand gripped Karyn's shirt her fingers relaxed and her eyes rolled back into her head and her fluttered for a moment before coming to a stop.

"We're losing her," Karyn called out, consulting her monitors. "Starting compressions." It was old fashioned but it was the safest intervention considering more drugs or procedures could further weaken her already ravaged body.

Dallas pressed as hard as she dared and after a few tense moments, saw normal rhythm resume. She exhaled, the sweat heavy on her brow. "We've got you, Anna. We've got you."

Karyn sent a worried look to Kio. It would be awhile before her viral and bacteria count was low enough to prevent another seizure. For now, they resumed cleaning her up and repairing her injuries. It was clear, however, she wouldn't be leaving sickbay anytime soon.

Raynor sat back and 'listened'... since watching wasn't an option with the curtain pulled... he only sat there waiting for something to go wrong... he fought back his urge to say he could help, and that he was universally useful everywhere on this ship... but that wasn't entirely true...

Yes he had the memories of the entire crew of a starfleet vessel lurking within the depths of his mind, and his extreme urge to be arrogant about that would only provoke other crew members to hate him and maybe even, fear him more...

Given the security looking towards him rather than following the Commanders orders directly was a cause for concern... Either they didn't like the idea of lowering their weapons when such a threat was present or something else... Raynor didn't even want to guess... but for some reason they turned to him. He would have to figure out why some other time...

In truth he was thankful for this small reprieve as he himself had to deal with the recent influx of trauma coming from O'Shea... Unlike other telepaths, Raynor couldn't block out the extreme emotional points of other peoples lives... his file said that he had the ability to collect the memories of the dead and the dying so long as the act was done in his presence... and in a sense that was true... but only because death was so traumatic to them. But he picked up the weaker feelings of torture and abuse from someone... and though not as strong as something death orientated needed to be dealt with...

He tilted his head down for a moment and attempted to put his own mind at ease...

A Vulcan woman named Trese, stood to Karyn's right, assisting the woman as needed. She said nothing as they continued to clean on Anna's body. Trese looked over at Karyn and then to Kio, before looking back to Anna and cleaning some of the dirt away from her. "I have never seen such pain on any one person before in my life." She said.

Karyn simply nodded. There was so much to attend to physically, it was hard to know where to start. Glancing briefly at Raynor, she resolved to speak to him later and continued to heal her battered patient.

***

A hour later, Dallas lowered the sheet and sighed as she completed the required documentation for the rape exam the medical officers had suspected was necessary. Karyn had questioned whether it was ethical to do something so invasive while the woman was unconscious, but ultimately, they decided it was better to spare Brianna the experience. Having been through it herself while fully conscious, Karyn couldn't argue.

There were no surprises on that front, as they noted Brianna's captors were as brutal sexually as they had been physically, and surely, emotionally. There was no remaining DNA, but enough bruising and tearing to corroborate prolonged and violent assault. Karyn was relieved to note there were no signs of pregnancy, but made a note to speak with Anna about increasing birth control and antibiotics to guard against STDs. They had to be careful not to overload Anna's system with too many drugs too soon as her systems were quite ravaged. The mild painkiller and sedative was just enough to keep her under.

The most serious of her injuries had been stabilized, but complete healing would take days. The breaks and burns were severe, and what Karyn was used to healing with a quick swipe of her instruments would now take careful immobilization and several treatments. All ugliness was carefully covered with a metallic sheet, and a forcefield was enacted to keep O'Shea from straining and aggravating her injuries. They'd washed her hair and sponged her off as best they could, revealing gray-pale skin.

Dallas watched a moment as O'Shea's chest raggedly rose and fell. She had pneumonia and would be officially listed in critical condition. It was anyone's guess as to whether she'd make it through the night.

***

Karyn's emerged from the privacy field and handed Raynor a PADD. "Your people can relax. Blood work indicates this is Brianna O'Shea, the real O'Shea."

Raynor took the padd looked at it... ran a comparison and laughed... "The blood work indication proves nothing... it an exact match with the Clone's blood work. In fact it more or less matchs every record we have on O'Shea's blood work, clone or otherwise..." Raynor couldn't help but roll his eyes in sarcasm. This was probably going to be his one way ticket to hell and then of course enjoy it, but you know that's one of the advantages of working for the devil.

"If the Hydrans were stupid enough to leave obvious indicators on their clones that freaking 21st century doctor could spot, then this wouldn't be a concern of Starfleet Intelligence... simple matter of running the test on ever away team that comes back for their blood work. Let's just assume that our enemy's actually have some idea of what their doing, or is 'competent'" Raynor said using the quote unquote hand gesture. "And not producing clones that can easily be spotted... just for a minute... alright?"

"Now assuming that really isn't a physical difference that can be detected, the only confirmed difference... CONFIRMED DIFFERENCE... is that a clone will be thinking about how to kill everyone on board or screw us all in some way; the real one WON'T! *Assuming* that the real one didn't even betray us to begin with."

"In other words you were called here because we need *PSYCHOLOGICAL* proof, and I'm not qualified enough to interrogate traumatized prisoners, ESPECIALLY ONES THAT ARE TRYING TO THINK OF A WAY TO KILL ME ANYWAYS BECAUSE I HAPPEN TO THINK OF THE CREW'S SAFETY AND NOT *HER* 'COMFORT' ZONE!" Raynor finished his little rant, panting a little... though it seemed more for dramatic purposes than to catch his breathe. Raynor now waited for the book to be thrown at him... whether it be literally or metaphorically had yet to be determined but he was ready for either.

Karyn listened to the outburst calmly, then coolly asked, "Do you have a death wish, Ensign?"

"I get that wish fulfilled everytime on the battlefield ma'am," Raynor spoke softly with a hint of dark depression before switching to sarcasm again. "Or maybe you haven't read that yet... and before I forget... requesting permission to have spoken freely, SIR."

"Denied. You've just earned yourself a stay in the brig, Ensign." Dallas tapped her combadge and requested a security escort. Corgan was going to love this.

Just then Anna moaned and slowly began to come around. When she tried to move, her eyes opened and she looked around getting freighted. ~ Their going to hurt you like they did... you trusted them... you stupid foolish girl! I kept you alive on Vaden and now look at what you did!~ The inner voice in Anna yelled and began to fight against the field keeping her down. Finally Anna screamed out and tried to fight the field holding her.

Covered his ears, and raised an eyebrow. "Anyone want to get that? Or should I?"

"Not a bloody chance," Karyn muttered, moving quickly to O'Shea's side. "Anna, you're alright. You're safe. I enacted the forcefield so you wouldn't aggravate your injuries." Dallas tried to comfort her by stroking her forehead. "Easy, hon."

"Let me up... let me up, Karyn... please let me up!" Anna said struggling still. She was starting to panic and didn't help Anna that Raynor was there either. Karyn couldn't give her anything to sedate her cause her body was saturated with so many different drugs right now, the worry anything else might kill her or worse start shutting her organs down. So Anna tried to fight the field and her screams gave way to tears of pent up sadness and rage.

OOC: Backpost, just after Anna is released from medical but before going back to limited work.

"Had a bad day, er, life"

Lt Cmdr Brianna O'Shea
Pilot Paulo DiMillo

*****

Paulo headed down the corridor, still wearing his pilot's suite. Even though SFI was more or less displeased at him, he had found a new calling, per say. He found he had a knack for flying. He was even working on getting his fighter cert. He was sure that the Major would never put him on full Pilot status, but he could at least be a reserve pilot.

The freedom of being in a fighter, alone, in the black, was appealing to him. But right now he had something to do. His sister, Anna, was back. Apparently the one they had been dealing with was a programmed clone, or something. All he had now days was he said she said, and what Cora could tell him without getting in trouble herself.

Anna was sitting in her room. Still under guard, mainly cause they still were discussing the validity of her being real or another clone. Sitting there on the couch she just looked out the window with her legs pulled up in front of her as she thought about how messed up all this was.

He walked up to her quarters and looked at the guards. "I would like to see her," he told them.

One guard looked at the other before finally hitting the chime to let her know someone was here to see her.

Still sitting there on the couch when the chime sounded. "Come.." She said then looked over as the door opened and in walked someone she'd never seen before. She wondered who he was, or rather, what his angle was. Was he another damn counselor who needed a unique patient for some conceived term paper or was he just wanting to me the wild woman that had been brought back? Anna looked at him then wondered if it was someone the clone had hurt or if he was seeking revenge for something she'd done, that thought made her hand slid down beside her were she had a long knife that Baile had given her years ago, which was now hidden within the cushions on the couch. "Who are you?" Anna asked.

"Paulo," he replied, not thinking about how long the clone may have been here.

"Paulo, what, or you just one of a new species that only has one name?" She asked.

"Pilot Paulo DiMillo," he replied again unsure. "Your half-brother."

Looking at him he almost laughed, but she wasn't that free with herself around men right now. "Well be thankful I'm only a half then... right? Don't worry, I'm not going to ruin the family. I'll stick to myself and not say or do anything that would cause you problems or problems for Starfleet." Anna said as she turned back toward the window. She knew people could be vicious, since being back she had been told she was a traitor, murder and then subjected to ever damn test imaginable in sickbay.

"Um, I am telling the truth," Paulo replied as he looked at her. This was definitely something he didn't think of. "That clone must have been on board longer then I thought," he replied as he just took a step forward for the doors to close.

"How do you know this?" Anna asked, looking at him.

"I guess it has almost been a year now, but I was doing an investigation , authorized," he made sure to make clear, "into some events on Romulus. While running the investigation I came across something that your father and my mother had in common. They shared a few weeks of passion, and I was conceived. I wish I could give more details, but SFI doesn't exactly trust me at the moment." He paused a few seconds looking at her. "The medial records on board do prove it, and even your father admitted it at one point, though he denies it in public every chance he gets."

"Sounds like my father..." Anna said then gestured to the chair bit away from her. "Have a seat." Anna said as she watched him. "So... where you close with her?" Anna asked, referring to the clone.

He headed over unsure and sat down in the chair. "A bit," he told her. "We had a few hard times, like when she tried to set me up on a date. She saw it her duty to get me a girlfriend, and I didn't like that to much. Other then that, sorta. You know, as close as you want to get to someone that just popped into your life, ya know?"

"Tell me about her, what was she like?" Anna asked looking at him. So far no one had said much about her.

"Um..." he said. "As I don't know when the "switch" occurred, and as I said SFI doesn't trust me a at the moment..." he trailed off again as he realized he was going off topic. "She was nice, carrying, in the way an older sister is," he told her, "but apparently she was a pain in the ass in engineering, always expecting everything to be perfect. Though her and Nara had seemed to be making up and actually getting along for over the last month or so."

"Nara... Naranda Sol Roswell?" Anna asked, she remembered that name from long back. "I'm glad to know she was loving and caring..." Anna said then glanced back at him and looked at him. "There's something your not telling me..."

"No," Paulo replied. "I have gone over everything that I can think of."

"Why is it around here people are holding things back?!" Anna snapped. "Everyone I run into are looking at me like I just rode in on the good ship lollipop and I'm carrying a friggin horse on my back." She said then looked at him. "What are you not telling me, what is everyone not telling me?!" Anna said starting to shake.

"Well," he said. "No," he finally decided. "Nothing."

Seeing him not getting to it. "Spit it out!" She yelled, unable to take this. "If you don't tell me the next time your mouth opens I'm having security remove you." Anna said as she sat back down at this point.

"Fine," Paulo replied back. This Anna was far more hostile then what he was used to, at least towards him. He had only seen this side of her when dealing with Nara months ago. "You are engaged..."

Anna was taken back by this revelation. Looking at him for a while she finally stammered out. "What... who?" She asked, how could someone so play her life and no one realize it wasn't her?!

"Marcus Slayton", Paulo replied.

~Marcus Slayton... why does that name sound familiar?~ She asked but it never came to her. Then it hit her and she frowned. "Marcus Slayton!" She asked, she then looked at Paulo and frowned. "Well he can just marry the clone...." Anna said folding her arms and then stood up.

"I don't get it, evidently I was never gone!" Anna said standing up and beginning to get more and more agitated. "No one seems to have known me well enough to have missed me. No one cared!" Anna yelled and looked at him. "Perhaps I should have stayed on that rock and died there cause clearly everyone was much happier having the clone here then me.... as you can tell by the guards I'm not trusted, everyone calls me a traitor when I was the damn victim!" Anna said.

"Anna," Paulo started, "that isn't true. People change over time, and her changes where so subtle that no one noticed it. It's not that we didn't care, it's that we didn't know. She was perfect up till she did the one thing you would never do, betray the Federation. And I am sure the guards there as more of a precaution then anything. If a person is cloned there are very few ways to prove it. I bet you it's just a precaution."

"You know what... I DON'T Care!" She said looking at him. "No one cared about me... no one saw the hell I lived and experienced! NO one... no one can understand, Paulo!" She said, her eyes showing the pain and unshed tears.

"You are right, he told her, "no one can understand till you tell us. If it counts for anything, I am here for you and I care, even if you don't remember me."

"It doesn't matter..." Anna said. "Nothing matters anymore... the one thing I lived for is the one thing that was taken from me." Anna said, meaning her job and respect she had built up over the years.

Paulo didn't know what to say. He was never good in these situations, so he just sat there, looking at her, wondering what to do. He could see the pain in her eyes, the frustration. He just wish he knew what to do.

"You don't understand, Paulo." She said then turned to look at him. Her eyes filled with frustration and pain. "You talk to me and tell me if I could remember you... I can't... I can't remember someone if I've never met them until now." She said. "People look at me and treat me as if they know me but I have no memory of them. Last I knew Suder was chief engineer, now I learn I am.. or was... I don't even know where I exist in this world anymore." Anna said.

"You belong here on the Galaxy as Chief Engineer. That may not have been *you* down there, but the skills that she used where yours."

"Just leave... leave me alone.. please.." Anna said turning and now walking over toward the window.

Paulo still didn't know exactly what to do. He had a feeling he should leave, but if he did that she may never come around to the fact that she belonged here. Not knowing what to do he walked over to the replicator and ordered 2 cups of coffee. He took them both back over and set on down on the tables next to where she had been sitting and took the other back to his seat and started sipping on it as he watched her.

Looking at him move she looked down at the coffee and picked it up. Holding the warm cup in her hands she took a drink. "You know what's funny... I don't even know what's happened to my dog... all I know she killed him."

"Peckerwood?" Paulo asked.

Anna nodded. "Probably better off he's not here... I.. can barely take care of myself... right?" She said, not looking at him still.

"I don't know. People always say pets are very therapeutic."

Looking at him she paused for a second. "Why are you here... you sit here much like a brother would. If she was anything like me, surely don't I make you not trust me?"

"At this point I am not sure," Paulo replied honestly. "I want to learn to trust you, the real you, and not that clone. You may not think it, but we are linked by blood, and that is far stronger then anything."

Folding her arms over her body she looked toward the window. Running her hand on the cashmere fabric of her sweater she never looked at him after that. "I know who I am... but it feels like I'm side my body looking at myself.. I am myself... yet I no longer know who that person is anymore..."

Paulo watched her for a few hard moments. "Tell me," he said, "what happened to you, starting from when you where taken. I am not a counselor, but I can listen."

Shaking her head. "Doesn't matter... not going to change anything. Isn't going to change a damn thing, only serves to make me angry and want to scream and yell and throw things." Anna said. "I used to be so calm, approachable..... now I'm freak that everyone gawks at!"

"Maybe that is what you need to do," he started, "scream, yell, and throw things." He paused considering his statement. "If you start throwing things, can you make sure its away from me? I have this thing about objects hurling towards me. Not a fan of them."

Looking over at him. "That's right... go ahead and make jokes. I really need a good chuckle!" Anna said then turned away back toward the window. "Leave or I'll have security toss you out on your ass..."

Paulo signed, setting his cup down, along with a pad that had a copy of a picture he had up in his room. He had been thinking of taking it down after the "real" Anna had shown up, but he was still debating about it. In the picture Anna and him where standing in the holodeck with a cliff behind them. He couldn't exactly remember what they where doing there, but it was a picture he had always liked. "If it means anything," Paulo said as he headed for the door, "I hope someday this picture is one with the real Anna."

Anna looked at the table where he had laid down the datapadd with the image of the clone on it. Just as he reached the door the sound of the datapadd breaking as it hit the wall could be heard. Anna then snapped. Moving through the apartment she began to gather things and toss them the recycler, so much so it couldn't keep up. Finally she then just began to throw stuff out of the door in her fit in tears.

The guards looked at one another and then one reached up and tapped his commbadge. "Jennings to Dallas... Commander I think you need to down to Anna O'Shea's quarters...."

OOC: Not so slight backpost. Takes place b e f o r e Baile left on the Hydran thingy mission. (I blame my bad memory for not posting this sooner). //J

"Jarhead - or the art of Red Tape. Pt 1"

Cmdr Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor, USS Galaxy
Lt Jebidiah Baile, Marine CO, Furies Detachment, USS Galaxy

Councelors Office, USS Galaxy

"I'd like to start by saying that I know the only reason you're here is because you were ordered to come. I want you to know that I hate having to resort to orders like that. But I'm guessing that you understand what it's like to have a job to do no matter how regrettable some of those actions may be. Am I correct?"

Clever one. Baile nodded. "Yes ma'am." Of course he knew. He had spent the last decade doing things with... regrettable outcome - both for him and for anyone in his way.

Karyn nodded. "So the way I see it, the only way we're going to get anywhere is with complete honesty. You don't trust me, you don't think I can help you. Maybe if you tell me why that is, we can come to understand each other better."

It took will to keep his hands still, but for now his body obeyed his will. "All I need is for you to sign on the dotted line so I can get back to my unit."

Karyn nodded. "That's what you want from me, but that doesn't answer why you don't trust me."

The marine kept his breathing under control, keeping his anger on a very short leash. The goggles kept the windows to the soul closed, but then even if he had not worn them no one would be able to read them. Hell, he couldn't even read them himself.

"It's very simple, Commander." Baile said, emphasizing her rank, not her medical title. "I do not know you. Nor do I want to. I'm here to do my job and my job is to keep marines alive. Whether people perceive me as aggressive because of that is not my problem."

This was an interesting admission to Karyn. "You believe that's what I think of you? That you're too aggressive?"

A thin smile, almost predatorily in nature, formed on his face. "Commander, I don't, and pardon my French, give a flying fuck what people that I don't know think of me and I believe we just established the fact that I don't know you."

"That may be true," Karyn answered calmly, "but you also know I hold the key to whether you return to duty. I imagine being forced to care about what I think is not something you'd like to prolong. Am I correct?"

Shrugging slightly he balled his fists until his knuckles cracked and slowly

opened them again. "Commander. It makes the same to me. If you declare me unfit for service then Marine HQ will transfer me somewhere else. The hard truth is that I'm too good for Starfleet to keep me grounded."

"Possibly," Karyn replied, "but then, a true marine never deserts his men."

"I see you've bought the same package of bullshit I did when I signed up.. Commander - I go where Command sends me.. If Command could clone me they would." He refused to take the bait, but it took yet even more effort to suppress the anger inside. How dared she talk to him like that? He could snap her in two before she could blink and there she was - lecturing him about what it meant to be a marine.

"So why are you here?" asked Karyn. "If you dislike me and this process so much, and you think none of it matters to the brass because they'll ship you to the next place, what do you care about following orders?"

"I never said I run, Commander. I do what I'm told."

Dallas smiled. "Come now, Lieutenant, if that were true, you'd be completely honest with me as you've been ordered to be instead of sitting here looking more closed off than Fort Knox. You're honest on your terms. I can live with that, but don't kid a kidder. You run from assignments because you can. Because your classified files give you an out to be with your demons. I wonder if you enjoy being a martyr for the cause?"

"Commander. You are slipping. You will have to do better than that to earn my trust."

"As I see it, Lieutenant, this is a two way street. It's no skin off my nose if you don't ever come to trust me. Whether you do or don't is never up to me," Karyn replied.

"You want me to trust you. Earn it."

"Actually," Dallas answered, "I don't want you to do anything. I will do my part if you do yours, but as I said, it makes no difference to me whether you stay or go. If you want to stay, we can talk about it."

"Tell me Commander. How much of my file did they let you see?"

"I know enough," Dallas replied succinctly. "I don't know all, and for that, I am sorry, Jeb." She hoped he knew she was being sincere. "It must be hell to know so much and to be silenced like that. They've not done right by you in that regard."

"That, Commander, is part of the job." he replied with more bitterness than he had intended, a bitterness directed at Dallas. It irritated him. She was doing her job. Projecting wouldn't solve anything. "I'm not joking when I say I'm good at what I do, Commander. There's probably no better pointman in the entire Starfleet than me... Marines that serves with me don't die. I won't let them."

"But there have been others," Karyn replied softly.

"That's water under the bridge, Commander." He felt his eyes burn. Not the usual pain he had gotten used to over the last few weeks. It was a dry burn, like when tears refused to fall. It made no sense. He leaned forward on his elbows, tracing an imaginary pattern on the floor. They both knew it was a lie. That particular water was still running and at times took shape in front of his eyes.

"I think you need it to be in order to breathe, Jeb." Karyn answered. "You need it to be so, but it doesn't make it so."

He tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. There was a bitter taste in his mouth he knew well. Much too well. Instead he lifted his hands to his goggles and slowly pulled them off his head. The light in the office cut like a knife through his brain, but he almost didn't register it. Two silver colored eyes looked at the woman sitting in front of him. Alien eyes.

"Thank you, Jeb," Karyn answered. "Thank you for being willing to take that step."

There was nothing even remotely human in his eyes. They seemed to absorb the light the hit them, resembling two marbles of mercury. The goggles could no longer hide the predator he had turned into. "Commander, I have no illusions about who I am or what I do. I stopped believing in the good of the Federation a long time ago, but I do believe in the Marines."

"Then fight for them," answered Dallas firmly. "Fight for your emotional health so you can keep doing the job you love. You might be damn good, but you're still mortal."

"There is nothing wrong with my emotional health, Commander. Had I been an Engineer or cargo pilot then no, I wouldn't be emotionally healthy. But I'm not. I'm in the business of killing the enemies my superior officers wants me to and for that Commander, my emotional health is perfect."

"That would be fine if all you were was a Marine, a killing machine. But if not now, you were a lover once."

"Yes, Commander. I was. Once. A lifetime ago. A lot has changed since."

"If only you could let the past go," Karyn surmised.

He chuckled at the irony of it all. "I did, but the past refused to let go of me."

Karyn smiled. "Fair enough. So what are we going to do about it?"

"You are going to give me a clean bill of health and me, I'll go back doing what I do best."

Dallas' smile widened. "Try again."

"Commander, tell me. What makes you think ordering me to a counselling session is going to accomplish?" Baile asked her calmly. "Is Lieutenant Branwen that naive that she thinks ordering people to counselling is magically going to make people open themselves?"

Karyn refused to take the bait. "I regret that it came down to orders, but sometimes there is no other choice. Am I mistaken in believing you wouldn't come voluntarily?"

"No you're right. I'd rather slide down a hill of razorblades into a pool of booze. But that still doesn't answer my question Commander. What do you councillors think that ordering someone to receive counselling will accomplish? If you are taught some kind of trick to get people to respect and trust you on command, then please share."

"Is that what you think, Jeb, that this is some sort of trick?" Karyn asked. "To answer your question, no, I don't expect you to open up or to like being here on someone's orders, but you know what? We each have a job to do, and I can't help but wonder why you have no desire to save yours."

"Ah, so now its a matter of a gun to my head. Either I spill my guts or I loose my.. job?"

Karyn shrugged. "You always have a choice, Jeb, but you know better than anyone how important it is to follow orders. If you don't take care of your emotional health, you're the one putting the gun to your head, you're the one risking the lives of your crew. You could lose a hell of a lot more than your job if you don't."

The marine shrugged, giving a far more casual expression than he felt inside. Inside his mind the fire had started burning again. "There is nothing wrong with my mental health Commander. Make no mistake of that."

Karyn softened somewhat. "So why not talk to me and help me to see what you see instead of resisting me and prolonging it at every turn? I admire who you are and what you've accomplished. I'm not implying weakness, I'm implying humanity."

He could hear it now. A beat. A heartbeat. He still hadn't figured out why or how he heard it or what made him hear it in the first place. "I am talking to you, Commander. You are the one assuming there is something wrong with my mental health."

"Not assuming," Karyn corrected, "I simply want the opportunity to assess your mental health like I would anyone else. Given what I know you've been through, you're at risk for some things."

"Believe it or not, Commander. I've never felt better than I do now."

"Would you tell me if you didn't?" Karyn asked.

"Commander, if I felt my mental state would endanger my unit or any objectives I was given I would let you know." Baile replied without missing a beat, his face unreadable with the alien eyes.

"Sometimes it's hard to be objective," Karyn replied. "What would it mean to you if you had to do that?"

"Nothing." he stated honestly. "I'm a professional, Commander. I might be a jarhead according to some, but I will go to any length to make sure the mission has the best chances of success as possible. I've been put in charge of a unit that has been run like a bloody daycare-center. Command here put Lieutenant Branwen in charge of it. She's fresh out of bootcamp and believe me, Commander, handing her the 188th was the worst that could happen to her. She has no command experience what so ever. Just like you state - respect and trust takes time to earn and that's even more true in the Marines."

Karyn nodded. "I respect your honesty. I hope one day, you'll believe we're on the same side. As for the Lieutenant, we deal with what we're dealt the best we can. Everyone has a first time."

"Are we done, Commander?"

Karyn nodded. "For now," she replied. "If it's trust we must build, there's no time like the present. Shall I see you next week at the same time?"

"That won't be possible, Commander. I'm being sent on assignment then." Baile informed her as he stood up and placed the goggles back on again.

"I'll speak to those handling that, then. We'll work something out.," Karyn reassured him.

Baile snapped a perfect salute. "As you wish, Commander."

"Jarhead - or the art of Red Tape. Pt 2"

Cmdr Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor, USS Galaxy
Colonel Caileb Smith, SFMC.

Dallas' Office, USS Galaxy

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

And so the game continued. The pieces on the board moved.

Puppets on bloody a string.

She was stubborn. He had to give her that. Trying to locate a man that didn't exist. She had chosen the right approach at least. Kicking up just the right amount of dust. Just enough to get his attention. He had known this would happen the moment Baile had sent him the request of getting the Councelors of his back.

He could have done as Baile asked him. It wouldn't have been a problem. It was no joke when he told people that not even God was allowed to see the files of the Crows.

And yet.

It was impractical to talk to her. It added yet another dimension to the plan he was following. Yet he couldn't resist. Maybe he had to test the boundries of the plan.

Maybe. It didn't matter. He had made his decision and was now committed.

The face that greeted him was attractive. Her blue eyes were the brightest, most youthful part of her, but all in all, he suspected she couldn't have been older than mid thirties. Her auburn hair caught his attention as well, as it was in stark contrast to her pale skin. She wasn't the sort of person one would expect to be one to reckon with, and that was perhaps the reason she was so effective. "Colonel Caleb Smith, I presume?"

Not bad. Not bad at all he thought to himself and wondered how many times her good looks had made men say more than they had intended. Determining Smith's age was.. not easy. He looked midthirties, but

at the same time he looked to be mid forties. His dark hair was cut short in

typical marine fashion, but it didn't make him look intimidating, quite the opposite. A handsome man, but not due to his looks rather than a strong personality. "You are assuming correctly, Commander Dallas. To what do I owe this.. call?" He had a pleasant voice with a hint of the strenght his whole persona held.

"I'm calling in reference to Jebidiah Baile. As you may know, he's serving aboard the USS Galaxy - A, and as Chief Counselor, I've run into some problems accessing his records. Naturally, I cannot see to anyone's emotional and psychological well-being if I don't understand what he or she has been through, but more importantly, if I cannot ensure someone's psychological health, I cannot allow them to serve Starfleet. Lieutenant Baile suggested I speak with you."

"Straight to the point. I like that, Commander."

Dallas nodded curtly. "I do as well. Colonel, before you might be inclined to tell me exactly why I cannot have access to the Lieutenant's records and why you would actually be protecting my well-being, let me tell you exactly why I disagree. Jebidiah Baile is in danger of a complete melt-down as long as he isn't permitted to discuss what I can only gather are dangerous and likely traumatic missions. I won't pretend to know why it would be improper or even dangerous for me to know these things, but my number one priority is to ensure Lieutenant Baile's mental health, regardless of the cost."

The Colonel listened. More years than he cared to remember had taught him to listen. When Dallas had finished talking he leaned back in

the chair, careful not to give an arrogant or defensive impression. "Commander. I take it, to use your own words, you want to understand Lieutenant Baile. Your file, " his eyes glanced sideways on the second screen. "that you were born with cerebral palsy. Now I cannot comprehend what that is like. Reading Baile's file will be the same." He raised a hand so he wouldn't be interrupted. "I understand your concerns, Commander, but I assure you, Lieutenant Baile is a lot tougher than you give him credit for. I will not allow you to read his file, but I will answer questions. Use this opportunity, Commander. It's a one time offer."

Karyn smiled congenially. It seemed he wanted to convey the notion he was in control, and his knowledge of her condition might have been an attempt to throw her off her game. It hadn't worked. "Thank you, Colonel, though I assure you, it's in both our best interests to work with each other for as long as we're both satisfied. As you say, the two of cannot fully understand each other's respective responsibilities, but we both have superiors to answer to whom I'm certain are equally persistent."

"You are misunderstanding me, Commander." Smith replied with a friendly smile. "I am not trying to.. how should I put it.. mark territory. You made it perfectly clear that anyone who's mental health you can not assure, although I believe you used the word 'psychological', will not be allowed to serve Starfleet. Am I right?"

Karyn nodded. "That is correct. This applies to Baile in particular. As the CO of the Furies, he must be able to handle more of the same kinds of missions that brought him to this point in the first place, and while I respect Baile's resilience, I know everyone has a breaking point."

"Technically Lieutenant Baile belongs to SpecOps. He's more or less on loan to the Marines. Now, Commander. The only thing you can do is to take Baile off duty which will cause SpecOps to transfer him to another ship and your recommendation will mysteriously disappear on the way. Now, can you please stop trying to intimidate me because it will not work. I am willing to help you as much as I can, but if you insist on trying to throw your weight around then this conversation is over." It seemed as if Smith had misjudged her. He had hoped by allowing her to contact him something positive would come out of it all. "I'll prepare the necessary paperwork to transfer the Lieutenant from the Galaxy."

Karyn frowned. She was intimidating him? Hadn't he just said he would make her recommendation disappear? Karyn shook her head. "I see no reason Lt. Baile should suffer because you assume I'm trying to intimidate you or throw my weight around as it were. I assure you, that's not my intention. However, even people with the most confidential of files are free to speak with a counselor who is bound by the strictest rules of confidentiality. I'm sure you understand I cannot begin to ask questions blindly without some sense of what occured."

Smith let his fingertips touch. "There is not much to know, Commander. Baile belongs.. sorry, belonged to a group of SpecOps that didn't exist and did missions that never happened." He chided himself silently for the slip. "Personally I wouldn't mind if Baile resigned and settled down, but men, and women for that matter, with his skillset just doesn't exist. We, as in Starfleet, simply cannot spare his skills at the time being."

Dallas inwardly sighed. These guys really pissed her off. "Well, let's say for the sake of argument, the group did exist and real missions did get completed. Hypothetically speaking, what kinds of stresses

would Baile have encountered?"

She wasn't listening. Funny how two people could talk past one another. He was sure she thought he was missing the point just as he thought she missed the point. "Baile's job was to recon the hostile territories. So he spent days, sometimes weeks behind enemy lines on his own to gather enough intel for the rest of the team to act upon." His eyes gazed on a distant horizon for a few seconds before he snapped himself back to the conversation. "He did what he had to do to remain unseen and accomplish the missions."

Karyn remained undaunted. "And hypothetically speaking, what might he have had to do? Kill others? Torture them? Rape them?"

Smith shrugged. As far as conscience went he had none himself. Baile had a little more, but not much. "Killed, buried them alive, tortured them. I am fairly convinced he never raped any of the female combatants he faced as he considered such activity unworthy and a waste of energy."

*Well, that's one prevention approach,* Karyn thought wryly. "And how about Lt. Baile himself? Was he also tortured, taken hostage or otherwise directly harmed?"

He didn't even need to look at Baile's file for that. He knew it by heart. "He was shot twice. One time during shore leave and one time in the field. I hope you understand I can't disclose any information regarding the incident." Smith added. "As far as being tortured - yes. I ordered him to allow himself to be captured since we could find no other way into the enemy installation. It may sound cruel to you, Commander, but we fought far behind enemy lines with what we could carry with us."

"I'm not here to pass judgement, just to gather facts," Karyn replied. Though she did wonder how one could get shot during Shore leave. "And what would such torture hypothetically involve?"

"Hypothetically?" They both knew he could answer a question like that in his sleep. He was SpecOps. "Electricity, water torture, sleep deprivation, physical abuse. I can go into details, Commander, but I'm sure you get the general idea."

"Mind control? Telepathic assault?" Dallas asked.

"No sane telepath would ever try to control Baile's mind or anyone else in the team for that matter. My men received extensive training to withstand a wide range of interrogation techniques." But he nodded none the less. "But yes, Commander. Mind control and telepathic assault could hypothetically have been used."

"Jarhead - or the art of Red Tape. Pt 3 "

Cmdr Karyn Dallas, Chief Counselor, USS Galaxy
Colonel Caileb Smith, SFMC.

Dallas' Office, USS Galaxy

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

Karyn had expected as much, but was still shocked. It was a wonder Baile was still functional. "And could he have witnessed the death and torture of others, including children and other civilians?"

"Hypothetically speaking Baile could have witnessed such events and in cases where needed participated in such activities." It wouldn't matter to admit it. Once this conversation was over any trace of it would be erased.

Karyn nodded. "And would Baile have talked to anyone about these experiences? A doctor? Comrades?"

"In SpecOps, Commander, the team is family. We deal with it our own way and Baile has been properly debriefed by SI councelors and declared fit for service." the Colonel informed.

Karyn frowned. "Forgive me if I don't believe 'counselors' for SFI can be impartial evaluators when it comes to assessing the mental health of a valued operative."

"Never said they were, Commander, but a clean bill of health from them is just as valid as one from you. Or are you now saying the policy in place within the Starfleet Intelligence is invalid?" the Colonel asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because if you are then you are really treading, pardon the expression, on thin ice."

In fact that was exactly what she was saying, but Karyn knew better than to continue to state it aloud. After all, diplomacy wasn't her strong suit. "All I'm saying, Colonel, is that things change. Just because he was cleared once doesn't mean he's in pristine health now. I'd like to think I can be a little more objective right now." *Nice save, Karyn* she thought.

"And our councellors have already established the trust needed to investigate just if you feel it is necessary." Caileb continued in stride. "I think we both know that Lieutenant Baile is a man that does not trust others easily." he paused for second, shifting his weight in the chair. "Naturally you may try and build that trust, but it sounds to me like you've gotten off to a bad start."

Dallas was unfazed. "I think one of the reasons that may be true, and I'm certain it isn't the only one, is he doesn't think you or and his superiors would approve his getting help. Would you be willing to reassure him that isn't the case? After all, as you said, you could have gotten him off the hook but you didn't. Maybe it's time for you and I to work together. We have Baile's best interests in mind."

"Commander. The reason we use our own councellors is that they have security clearance. You don't. It's as simple as that. It is all clearly regulated in Starfleet orders and regulations. - Or do you think the rules and charters under which SI has worked for longer than you have been alive are wrong too?" he replied with a friendly voice. In another time he might have tried to recruit her, but this was not the time or the place for such matters.

"With all due respect, Colonel, Lieutenant Baile is a member of my crew now, and as such, his psychological well-being has become my responsibility. It's impractical, not to mention inefficient to have him going to counsellors from SFI every time he is in need. Now I get that your hands are tied, but who do I speak with about making sure Jebidiah Baile gets what he needs?"

He raised an eyebrow on hearing the last words. "With me, of course, Commander. And with all due respect, Commander, Lieutenant Baile is still the property of Starfleet Intelligence Special Operations." That was essentially what the Crows were to him. Property. A highly praised and valuable property, but property none the less.

Despite the fact the word "property" set off all kinds of bells and whistles to indicate her ire, Dallas wisely ignored it. "I'm not giving up on Baile. I will do whatever it takes to build rapport with him, and if need be, I will speak in hypotheticals with him too. I won't ask for specifics, and I will focus my efforts on the things you have told me today. He has murdered people, been tortured, possibly telepathically invaded, and we can talk about that without me getting into the top secret material. But I would like you to speak to Baile, let him know he has your blessing to talk to me, albeit in limited fashion...please, Colonel."

He thought about it for a few seconds. Baile wouldn't even sneeze if he thought it would compromise any previous operation. Loyalty had been so easy to forge in Baile, easier than in the other ones. Finally he nodded. "Commander. I will do more than that. I will send you a few selected bits from his dossier. I'm sure I need not remind you of the penalty should that information be seen by other eyes than yours.. "

Karyn nodded solemnly. "Of course." Of course, Karyn was not afraid of consequences any more. After lanjep and everything else she'd been through since, she had learned she had been at her lowest and survived. Everything else that Starfleet could do paled in comparison.

"Very well. You will have the documents within the hour. I'm also sending you a phrase to say to Baile. He will know that I'm authorizing him to talk to you when he hears it."

It took every fibre in her being for Karyn not to roll her eyes and quip, "Do you have a secret handshake too?" but she didn't. "I'm listening."

"Here you go, Commander." he replied, pressed a few buttons and sent Karyn the phrase.

Karyn received the transmission a few seconds later and was indeed perplexed by it. "Thank you, Colonel. I truly want to help Lieutenant Baile."

"I'm sure you do, Commander. Good luck. Caileb out." The screen went blank leaving Karyn alone with her thoughts.

"Eureka!"

Lt. Ella Grey

====

In the way that answers were prone to come at you when you least expected them to, Ella Grey suddenly had the solution as she crossed the room to talk to O'Shea.

It was fortunate, in that moment, that she didn't have a teacup to drop and break into a million dramatic pieces on the floo; Ella did, however, turn in her excitement and walk right into the pool table.

That was it, Ella thought in triumph as she hobbled around the pool table and to somewhere clear of furniture. She had THE answer and it was remarkably simple, so simple that she didn't understand how she hadn't seen it before.

In fact, it was SO simple that Ella had the desire to smack her forehead and proclaim herself a moron outloud but the other officers of Engineering *had* just seen her walk right into a table that hadn't exactly been in stealth mode.

After so much time, debate, research, late nights talking with 8-ball, deep analysis of psychology, and contemplation of every possible angle (none of which mattered because apparently all she should have done in the first place was make a clone out of O'Shea to wreck havoc so that Ella could simply cross a room and then Eureka! ), she finally had the answer and she couldn't believe that she had been so...

"Ella?" O'Shea called a bit impatiently.

Right, Ella thought, trying to lose the shit-eating grin, which really wasn't appropriate.

Clones and sabotage now, love life, happiness, and Victor Krieghoff's forgiveness later.

Ens. Artim - Bored Security Officer

"Squelched Desires"

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

After the long and uninteresting ride up here from the basecamp Artim followed along closely, phaser carbine in hand. So far this was turning out to be the most boring field mission he'd been on. Of course the last few had been very eventful so it was getting hard to match that excitement level. Walking through a hulk that been crashed for half his life on a desolate desert planet was a change of pace, but not a welcome one.

The 422 year old kid didn't care that he was on some back water desert planet. What bugged him is that he was here with a phaser rather then with a microscope or dermal regenerator. The problem with security wasn't that he was squemish about killing or anything like that. He learned the hard way that one did what they have to do to survive. He had to kill frequently in those first few weeks after things went downhill at home and after the first couple, he got over the fear because survival was at stake. What the problem was is that by its very nature security assignments generally resulted in long strings of drudgery or simply watching. What he'd been used to wasn't like that. As a scientist there was always more research to be done, always more experiments to run. As a doctor, there were always paitents to tend to, always records to check. Heck, even when he was flying a shuttle every day on routes that had no danger to them at all had more oppurtunities to keep busy. Here though, there were only so many times one could check their weapons.

Now some might say that he was stepping into a historical site that no human had seen in over 200 years and that should be enough to keep Artim interested. Normally it would even if he had no interest in that war. However there was something about the Challenger that was a turnoff to him. To see the damage and destruction here kept stirring up old memories, painful memories. A planet in flames...people vicously killing others...dead bodies smoldering creating a stench in the air that Artim could claim he could smell to this day. This place was a symbol to a glorious battle in human history. To Artim it was a symbol of a great tragedy in galactic history. He couldn't help recall what his 22nd counterpart was thinking before this battle. Was he as scared?

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

2160 - Personal Log of 2ndLt Theirry Tremblay

Tomorrow we fight. Tomorrow we go into a battle that could end the war, or at least that's what the Captain has been saying, the Major too. Ever since we left for Cheron we've been running combat drills non stop. MACOs liked to say they were always ready for a good fight though I hate to say I'm not ready quite yet. I've only been out here a few monts, pushed out of the Academy faster then normal because of the war. I don't let the platoon see it, but I'm scared.

Ever since we went out into space, really started exploring the Galaxy, there's been nothing but violence. Of course humanity has made freinds, discovered things that they couldn't have otherwise. We've also made just as many enemies, the Suliban, the Xindi, and now these Romulans, not to mention those at home that were still opposed to all this like Terra Prime. What price has all these discoveries cost us? I don't want to add it up.

People have asked me why I ever left Nice to join Starfleet. The answer was always a variation of 'I was inspired by Enterprise and Jon Archer and all Starfleet had accomplished". It was an easy and convincing lie. Truth was I'm scared. Ever since the Xindi attack on Florida, I've fealt this desire to not be caught defenseless again. I wanted to see the enemy and have a chance to fight back, I thought that might calm the fear. Mon dieu was I wong. In fact with these Romulans it was even more terrifying. They say no human has ever seen a Romulan and lived to tell about it. That just made them all the more terrifying, just like the Xindi in the beginning. We know almost nothing about our enemy and, well, what you don't know can be terrifying.

To be honest, I'd rather be back in Nice teaching or laying on the beach some where. I dreamed of that for a long time. War, fear, they both have a way of killing desires. I just hope whatever comes of this war will allow a peace that lets others pursue theirs.

"Ghosts and Lovers, Part I"

Ensign Running Tree (Lori C.)
Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter
Giana Crestine (Lori C.)
Ensign Rob Crestine

*****

Current Stardate, USS Challenger

Running Tree followed 8-Ball into the dark Science department. His torch going here and there as he walked softly and quietly. "Tread softly about the dead," he whispered remembering what he was told when he would visit burial grounds with his grandparents.

"Or they'll come back alive and snatch at your ankles?" 8-ball asked. It wasn't an entirely fair thing to say but she was still irritated at him, so she didn't care. She was seriously regretting not making a suggestion about pairing assignments earlier. Walking around on a ghost ship with Running Tree was not exactly what she'd call a good time.

Of course, walking around on a ghost ship wasn't supposed to be a good time. But Running Tree's presence was just making everything that much more difficult.

He just looked at her shaking his head, "Why must everything be a joke, T'Pol?"

8-ball stopped walking to stand and glare at him for a second. "I enjoy a healthy sense of humor, ENSIGN," 8-ball snapped. "But since humor seems to be a concept beyond your ability to grasp, let's try out a new idea and see if you can understand that one instead. We call it the chain of command. In the chain of command, I'm a Lieutenant and your direct supervisor; you are an ensign and what we call a subordinate."

"Now, I like to keep things relaxed and friendly with my subordinates because I just think that makes a better working environment, but that doesn't mean I have to take your shit all mission long. You don't like something I have to say, think it's disrespectful? Suck it up. You're an Ensign, that's your job. I do not have to explain my reactions to you, and I don't have to worry about your precious feelings. Also, call me T'Pol again, and I'll have you doing bitch work for the next twelve months. It's 8-ball or Lt. Hunter; I don't answer to T'Pol, and I certainly don't answer to T'Pol to you. Understood?"

His face grew hard as he nodded, "Yes, Lt. Hunter."

"Good," 8-ball said flatly and turned away. "Now, we're supposed to be looking for any files or any clues on what happened here. I'm checking that console over there; see if I can play with the wires and get anything useful out of it. Why don't you go look over yonder" ---she pointed to the other side of the lab--- "and see if you can find anything."

"Alright." He went to the farthest console at the other end and tried some buttons before opening a panel.

After about fifteen minutes of scanning, he called over to 8-Ball, "Lt. I think you may want to look at this."

8-ball sighed. She hadn't found much yet that could help, and some small part of her was irritated that Running Tree had found something first. She tried to push down that absolutely ridiculous piece of competitive nature and walked over to where Running was looking.

Running Tree was looking at some form of log. 8-ball knelt beside him and glanced over it. "Lt. Giana Crestine, Chief of Science," she said outloud as she scanned the data. Mostly, the log consisted of some minor events that had occured a few days before the crash, nothing as to indicate exactly what had happened here. Still, it was information. It was a step in the right direction.

"Giana's an interesting name," 8-ball mused outloud, more to herself than to Running Tree. She scanned the information again, tapping her fingers lightly against the side of her face as she thought.

"Well, Giana," 8-ball said, "Maybe you can tell us your story."

*****2160---72 hours before the Challenger's crash

"Where is that report, Jordan?" Giana rushed about trying to gather up late reports.

Jordan shrugged, "I'm waiting on data from stellar cartography.

She sighed, "Get on them. Tell them the next person to call will be me."

She rubbed her forehead, "They're ALWAYS late."

Hands were suddenly resting on the back of her neck and shoulders. "Uh-oh," Rob's voice said lightly from behind her as he pressed his thumbs down firmly around her shoulder blades. "Somebody's causing you tension. I'm feeling very tense muscles here. Who's the idiot causing my wife to be tense, and when do I get to go beat an apology out of him?"

She couldn't help but laugh, "Ensign Vig, but I have a feeling the captain won't be too happy about you beating up someone." She turned smiling at him.

Rob smiled back at her and gently kissed her on the cheek. "I don't care what the Captain says. I'm a rebel."

Rob did not look like a rebel. He had a mop of curly brown hair that swung in front of his face at inopportune moments. He eyes were large and child-dark; the curious eyes of a little boy. In fact, his whole face was cursed with a boyish quality that made him look six years younger than he actually was. Facial hair only looked ridiculous on him; the last time he tried Giana had laughed at him mercilessly until he gave up. When your wife was also your boss, you got used to being laughed at. . .but he also knew Gi was right, so he had shaved off the beard.

God had, thankfully, granted him broad shoulders, which saved him from looking like a tall, Italian woman. Rob believed both in God and in small favors---but every now and then couldn't help wishing for some more masculine features.

Rob gave his wife another quick kiss and then stepped back. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked her.

She shook her head. She looked a bit more grown up than him with blonde hair done up in a french twist. She was maybe two inches shorter than her husband and was slim. She didn't look like she would do well in a fight. She knew she couldn't, so that's why she took on Sciences. She was a real geek about it sometimes as well. Rob had given her numerous looks when she blurted out some thought on an experiment. Sometimes at the strangest times. Like making out. She winked at him, "Just do your job, Ensign."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm getting promoted, you know. Next week. Actually, less than a week. Five days. Would it KILL you to just pretend I'm a Lieutenant, just for these five days?"

She smirked, "Yes it would. I would explode."

Rob mock-sighed. "Fine," he said. "Just stick to your protocols. But definitely no more neck rubs for you."

She laughed, "Not till next week anyway."

***Current stardate, USS Challenger

"So, she was married to an Ensign Rob Crestine, Science Officer," 8-ball said outloud as she set the log down. "Wow. That must have been an interesting marriage. I wonder if he called her Sir in bed."

Running Tree rolled his eyes, "I'm sure we'll never know." He frowned and added, "Too bad Ensign Crestine never got his promotion." He poked around a bit and pointed, "There's more."

"Well," 8-ball said, "let's read."

"Little Warrior"

Commander Kol
Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

OOC: Takes place prior to Kol's Departure for the "Open Fist" plot.

In the last few weeks, 8-ball had spent a little time dating, a little time working, and for the most part, a great deal of time hiding. She had been avoiding Steven since they got out of the holodeck . . .not so much because of the wacky evil that had been hiding in the holodeck trying to kill them, but rather some of the things that Steven had said, namely little terrifying gems like, 'You've given me back my faith in life'. Expectations like that were hard to live up to. She'd hate to know what Steven thought of her after actually dating.

The other main person that she was hiding from was Kol. Unfortunately, hiding from the First Officer, who also happened to be a forty foot tall Klingon, was considerably harder than avoiding Steven.

~The date didn't end so badly~ 8-ball mused to herself as she finished up a few odds and ends in the lab. ~Dinner was okay, maybe a little nauseating while watching Kol's little worms WRIGGLE, but it was all right, and we made semi decent conversation, in a way. . .and then. . .then. . ."

Then dinner had ended, and Kol had been looking at her in a way that was extraordinary unsubtle (not that 8-ball was particularly subtle, but Kol took this little character flaw to new and dangerous heights), and then her little commbadge rang from someone in Sciences. The problem was a minor one, a small lab mistake easy to fix, but Ensign Wolcott had given 8-ball an out, and she planned to take it. 8-ball apologized for having to work but mentioned that dinner was fun and she'd see him around sometime (this was said as vaguely as humanely possible before 8-ball ran away). Then 8-ball decided she'd just spend the rest of her life hiding from Kol until one of them eventually got transferred.

8-ball felt that this was a good plan, a solid plan, and was happily enjoying her plan until she stepped out of Sciences and walked smack into Kol.

"8-Ball." Kol said in his unnaturally (to 8-Ball's mind) deep voice. "It is very.. pleasing.. to see you again."

"Uh, likewise," 8-ball said, who was of course thinking anything but likewise. "Um, so hi. I was just, ah, leaving. . ." She tried to think of what she could be leaving to go do. Other than hide, that was.

"And what errand occupies you now?" he asked, the unspoken hint that, if she wasn't doing anything..."Nothing for Ensign Wolcott, I hope. I would hate to have to kill him"

8-ball stared at Kol, tried to decide if he was joking, and then decided she was too afraid to ask. That particular fear made her pause for a minute. . .when did she get too afraid to ask possibly inappropriate questions? She was 8-ball fucking Hunter, for Godsakes. Everything about her was inappropriate. She wasn't supposed to be afraid of asking things. She certainly wasn't supposed to be afraid of dating men, even scary Klingon warlord guys.

~I've faced down a God, for fuck's sake~ 8-ball thought to herself. ~Okay he was an disembodied alien god's voice and another alien god had to step in and save me but. . .I faced down a God! I'm not afraid of a Klingon! This is crap! I can be brave, dammit!~

On further introspection, 8-ball realized that brave would not be, necessarily, the best adjective one could pick to describe her but. . .fuck it. 8-ball was sick of pussy footing around the issue. She was spontaneous. She was impulsive. She was 8-ball.

So what came out was, "Okay, Kol? Look, I gotta be straight here cause. . . I gotta. Cause it's driving me nuts. I kind of like you. You're. . .you're interesting. You're very interesting. And I find most men kind of boring because, well, when you see one, or you know, one thousand, you've seen 'em all, but you. . .you're different. Cause you're brave and a Klingon and. . .and. . .I don't really know all that much else about you, but you're still different. But I'm completely intimidated by you because I'm not really all that brave, which I'm sure is not an attractive quality to you. But I'm not and it's the truth and I'm little scared of dating you for fear that you'll kill me for doing the wrong thing. And I KNOW I'm scared of sleeping with you because I'm afraid your little warrior is going to rip my little vagina apart. So. . so I don't know what to do. So yeah."

8-ball thought about adding something else, and then decided against it. Articulation could only go downhill from here.

Kol just smiled that broad, absolutely and completely terrifyingly wide - and sharp - smile. "I assure you 8-Ball, there is nothing "little" about my warrior."

"Yes," 8-ball said dryly. "That was sort of my point. I think sex with you would be like the ultimate roller coaster ride. Either way I'll be screaming into the night, but I'll either be screaming with amazing, unbelievably hot pleasure, or I'll be screaming in terror and pain and agony because my seat belt just unlatched and I found myself impaled on something impossibly long and pointy. I'm not sure which sort of screaming I'll end up with."

"Then you should try it and find out." he shrugged. "I find you an intriguing woman, 8-Ball. You have a fire that every other member of your dull species lacks. You are also not as fragile as human women. "

"That's. . .sort of flattering," 8-ball admitted. "But I'm still worried about your little. . .fine, your HUMONGOUS warrior in my little vagina. I'd rather not die from mass exsanguiation in bed. You know?"

"I do not think that would be a problem."

"Yeeeees," 8-ball said, "but if you're wrong, you're not the one with the big problem. Other than accidentally killing your Chief of Science. You think you'd do some brig time for that? Oh, never mind. Look, I'm just saying I'm nervous. I get that you're not, right?"

"Were we to mate - something I admit I desire a great deal - It would be a .. memorable occasion. Songs would be sung." he said, completely seriously.

8-ball stared at him and eventually snickered. "Well, if songs are going to be sung, then why the hell not, right? On the other hand, I think it's about time someone sang something about my sexual prowess. I'm having trouble visualizing lyrics, though. I just end up hearing kind of moaning background noises."

8-ball sighed and shook her head. Songs were not the issue. Sex was the issue. That, and a fear of painful death. Or just, in general, death. 8-ball was tired of worrying about such things. Besides, she didn't think she'd ever be able to shake Kol. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to.

"Okay," 8-ball said after a few minutes. "All right. Let's go back to your place, and we'll. . .see what happens I guess." Kol smiled that pointy evil smile again, and 8-ball prayed that he wasn't a biter. "But if I die because of this, I expect a DAMN good song."

"Of course. It would be only proper."

"Nothing Says Betrayal Like..."

(Takes Place 5 hours after "He's Making A List And Checking It Twice...")

By Commander James Lionel Corgan

And Atole Tekri, with Nuhir t'Stellam Tekri

****

Location: Romulus

Had she any more drama, Tekri would have been tempted to turn her personal hand disruptor on some of it, set it to slow vaporize, and let loose a volley.

But as it was now, she was nursing Nuhir, and could not take out her frustrations on family and friends.

The past few days were as expected for a new mother. New worlds of pain, followed by the joy in the miracle of creation, knowing that the life in her hands was created by her, kept by here, and would be hers for the rest of her life. The life that had potential, the daughter in her protective arms, the product of love for what was once her mate, the potential that would have to wait twenty years to be realized... it was hers. When Nuhir was born, nothing could stop her from feeling an overwhelming love for her newborn daughter.

Then there was her family.

The Tekri clan wasn't very impressed with what they thought of as an act of impulse (and for the most part, they were right), taking the genetics of an inferior race (her daughter was half human, after all), and from an inferior and rather comical member of his race at that (Corgan's entrance to see his daughter's birth came as a disaster, embarrassing the family greatly). The fact that the baby was conceived as a means to win said comical human back was a fact the family constantly reminded her of (it was during the lowest point of her depression post breakup, artificially gestated and a great failure as a relationship mender). In her home, she was a disgrace.

But a powerful disgrace. As a centurion in the Tal'Shiar in a family of minor merchants and administrators, her masters didn't care enough about the child yet, and her family couldn't do much but fear the repercussions of angering her.

It still didn't stop the stigma of having a half human daughter among her family. Though they promised to love and care for Nuhir, she was still uncertain whether or not the baby would be accepted.

That problem was for another time. She had maternity leave, which mean time to stay with the newborn, and recover from the birth at her family estate. M'kala trees shed blossoms outside her window, the wind rustled leaves. Sweet scents drifted from the flower garden her mother tended. The villa was, for the time, peaceful.

Not for long. The doorbell rang. "Come in." Tekri lifted herself from the bed. Nuhir disengaged herself from Tekri's breast, weakly squealing momentarily. Atole covered herself before going to the door.

The reception room, like most Romulan homes, was a structure of gray marble stones with wooden furniture (most of it, these days, was synthetic except for a few antiques). In there, waiting seated on one of the couches was a Starfleet Commander. Blonde, with old fashioned Terran sunglasses and wearing Starfleet gray/black with a mustard undershirt, Commander Corgan held a reserved earnestness about him. "Madam Tekri." James spoke politely, using the old greeting from when they first meet on the Galaxy.

"James." Atole smiled. Despite what happened between them, Tekri still felt a flush of warmth when meeting her former lover. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Her smile widened slightly and she looked up at him from under her lashes. "Are you here to see Nuhir and... me?" The questioning tone at the end held just enough genuine hope and emotion that it was possible to see it past the edges of her practiced artifice.

James was on the more cautious side. He knew fully well what Atole could do to him; their past was too passionate to discount. He knew that Atole wanted him back, though she was more resigned to not having him back in her lifetime. But though there was the lying and deceit that killed their past relationship, James still saw the qualities in her that he loved; tenderness, innocence conflicted with the voluptuous role of the spy mistress, and her hawkish awareness that saw everything and took advantage. When they were in love, it was energetic, pent up tension released by a torrent of lust.

He had to steel himself to any tricks she wanted to pull. Just because it was over, it didn't mean she wanted to quit. "I'm sorry. It is not a personal visit." James Corgan explained, "I am here as a favour for a friend. Do you mind if we talk?"

"Please, come in," she stepped aside and motioned him into the villa. "No one else is here; I trust you don't mind being... alone... with me?" Part of her wanted to put a halt to the flirtation, but another part craved it more strongly. This was her mate, the man chosen to be the father of her child, and she couldn't deny the part of her that wanted him here, with her.

James smirked, "Mika will have my skin for shoe leather, but what the hell. It's just a short visit, after all." He added as extra insurance; letting Tekri know his visit was far from personal.

The knowledge that he was worried about the Andorian woman's opinion of his visit warmed her, telling her that there was still a chance she could win her man over and convince him to stay... but the thought that this was to be short visit, and one that might not be for the reason she wished kept her heart from singing. Still, he had agreed to enter her home, that counted for something and she would use every opening to try and bind him to her again.

James was led by Tekri to a balcony overlooking her estate. They seated themselves by a patio table, and took requests for drinks from a hovering delivery drone that popped out of the table. There James could smell a Rihannsu spring. Flower scents lightly wafted, lifted by a gentle, meandering wind. The estate outside was green everywhere, with hedges and bushes growing thick with leaves, large trees bushy with blooms, leaves and fruit, and a grass giving the ground a emerald carpet.

The artist in him thought that Tekri was natural in her surroundings. A luminous maiden, wearing a white robe of purity, with Nuhir slumbering innocently in her arms, surrounded by lush fertility, in a villa of stark, striking beauty. James couldn't help but blush.

"You look different." James said to Atole, "Happier."

A part of her was glad she didn't have to lie when she said, "I am. This is the way things were supposed to be." She wondered if he would understand the layered meaning in her words, and accept the offer that was hidden there. It would be so much better if he came to her now, here.

"I am glad you are doing ok." James added, "And Nuhir too. Look at her, she looks so cute." To that, Nuhir half opened her eyes. James brushed a tuft of Nuhir's newborn hair out of her eyes, and Nuhir responded by making an attempt to clutch his finger. James left his finger to hover, Nuhir's tiny hand held on, her eyes unsure of what to make of the macro-sized version of her own digits.

James got to the point. "Tekri, you remember the attempt on Savar's life?"

tr'Khellian. Her heart sank. He was here about tr'Khellian, not her, not their daughter. She maintained her control and didn't let the hurt and disappointment show on her face or in her words, but it gnawed at her all the same. She and their daughter weren't enough to make him visit, but the brain-dead body of a fool was? "You know I have, beloved," she smiled. "Both of us were there." She'd meant enough to him that he couldn't kill her for what she'd done to tr'Khellian then, and that was before Nuhir.

"Well..." James itinerated, "One of my deputies is looking into some suspects, and he wants to know what you know. As we all know, Savar had his share of enemies, but Lieutenant Krieghoff and I don't know the complete picture. We were hoping you could help... point us in the right direction."

Tekri frowned. James knew full well she had been the one to send tr'Khellian into his vegetative state - he'd captured her himself after the attack. Why was he acting so dense? He knew, and she knew that he knew, and....

Understanding blossomed within her like one of the flowers outside, and she almost smiled in the joy of her realization. Of course he knew. But by asking her this way, by treating her as an informant, he was shielding her, protecting her and their daughter. That explained why it was him here, and not the monster, Krieghoff. She suppressed a shudder as she imagined what questioning at his hands would be like. Even the Cardassians would be kinder, she was sure of that.

But it was James, because James was ensuring that she was safe, that Nuhir was safe. He'd routed the investigation around her, and was giving her the opportunity to help him. All she had to do was give him the next link in the chain and then she was clear - at least insofar as Starfleet was concerned. Actually she could give him anyone, so long as they had a reason to want tr'Khellian dead, not just her superior. And she'd though him unready for the political realities of Rihannsu life.

She smiled at him. He was betraying his Starfleet for her - and nothing said 'I love you' to a Rihannsu like betraying someone powerful enough to crush you like an insect on your behalf. "Perhaps I can," she said slowly, savoring the feeling within her. "But there are... dangers... involved in this. Not just to you, but to me, and to..." she shifted Nuhir slightly, causing their daughter's grip on her father's finger to tighten and draw his attention down to her. "You understand?"

"Aye. I do." James lied... somewhat. Even though he didn't understand the depth of the skullduggery he was about to get into, he was more than aware that it was there. Tekri was getting better at her manipulation. It was time to remind her that James wasn't as clueless as he played, "We could be satisfied with getting the person who had done the act... but that would be too easy. It would catch someone... put them in jail, but it wouldn't stop the murderer. And yes, one must consider that person's life outside of their work and their... loved ones." Nuhir let go of his finger. He withdrew with a smile. "The person with the orders is who Victor wants. So... where shall we start? With the obvious, with Omar? Or is there someone else we don't know about?"

"There are many things you don't know," Tekri assured him with a smile that promised the knowledge of all of them was his for the asking if he'd just lean a little closer. What could she tell him? What should she tell him? He was betraying his master for her... could she do less? Dare she do less if she was to make him hers? "But you know such things cannot be spoken. It would mean out lives - our daughter's life - to say them aloud...." She leaned a little closer, her hear racing like it had never done before. Was she really going to do this?

James leaned closer, Tekri's breath hot in his ear. "...Oh... don't worry about that, my dear. Whatever happens, I'm sure it can be as discreet as possible. And... oh hey! That's a really nice orchid!" James Corgan shot out of his seat, startling both the baby and Atole. He had his tricorder out a second later, his finger flipping through functions, "Do you mind if I get a quick scan of this? I have a friend in botany... and if I do this I should get a hell of a reading." With that cue, James finger planted itself on a trigger button. A high pitched squelch emitted from his tricorder, and disappeared just as fast.

He unflipped his tricorder and spun it into his belt. "There. If there was anyone eavesdropping nearby, they'll be bleeding out of their ears for an hour or six. Don't you people have privacy laws... as I ask the Romulan spy, never mind."

Tekri laughed musically and leaned back in next to his ears. "But what about the visual observers, my James?" She kissed him just below the ear once and drew back. "There are none, though. I am unimportant enough to assign such a waste of manpower to. Now, what is it you were about to say?"

James sighed, "I know who whacked Savar. I can even guess why. But I can't help but think there is more involved. And it's ok, you can talk freely. However, you may want to reset your chronometers and get a new replicator. Civilian models are sh*tty like that."

"I will blame the makers of your tricorder," she assured him. "I'm certain they receive product liability suits all the time after such... accidents." She regarded him for a moment, the smile still on her face. "There is more - and less - involved than you think, and likely than I know," she offered. "But within the limits of safety I can answer some questions if you ask them."

"Ok." James nodded. Progress! He thought to himself, "Omar and Savar. I remember that you said they were political rivals. Care to go over that again? What would drive Omar to go that far?"

"Savar was, as long as he remained alive, a threat. Events might have transpired that would have elevated him above the scandals that drove him out of the Empire, and allowed him to return if not in triumph, then at least with acceptance in political circles. That could not be tolerated. Since he was not so obliging as to perish on his own, it was decided that arrangements would have to be made to assist him in that endeavor."

So far, the information he was getting was good. "Ok. Well, that's motive. Now I have to ask, who gave the order to kill? Was it Omar, or was it someone within the Romulan high command or the Tal'Shiar who did it in his stead?"

Tekri smiled and leaned closer again, her lips brushing James' ear. "I received orders from a General in the Tal Shiar, the Head of the Bioweapons Division, and a Proconsul of the Empire, James." She smiled and shifted her position slightly, handing their daughter to James and taking advantage of the necessary adjustments to press a single kiss on his lips. "Three men, all powerful, all dangerous... and all the same. All Omar."

~"One man can be all that?"~ James thought with a sense of alarm drawing back from the kiss that almost pressed deeply from his lips. He didn't doubt that there were old feelings still close to him, but to know they were so close, he couldn't help but recoil in revulsion. Tekri was still beautiful, still tempting and yet naive, still dangerous to his well being. ~"Careful James old boy, don't let your mind agree with your dick..."~

"I do have one other thing I need to know." James added, "Did Omar have associates, a group that were interested in Savar's outcome... or was it he alone?"

"He believes he needs no one else - or wants me to believe that," Tekri replied, slipping a step back to watch James hold their child. "She likes you, you know," she said, her voice softer. "As is right; children should like their father."

"At that age, I would agree." James grinned at his child, the baby's cherubic face grinning back. He said as a joke, "Wait until she turns twelve or thirteen. My dad and I were constantly at each other's throats. He was Starfleet, always on me about being self controlled and disciplined, and I was a rowdy teenage boy with more energy and hormones than I could handle. But even before that if I wasn't a teenager with a wild streak, I was a pre-teen with a wild streak, or a kid with a wild streak, or a toddler with a wild streak. Hell, it's hard to imagine me as a little baby like this, just looking up with love, unconditional... none of the little stuff that makes child and parent grow distant..."

Cradling Nuhir as she squirmed in his arms, James floated back onto the couch. "We're soldiers, you and I. That's why I didn't sell you out. We have our orders. We execute them. You did your job with Savar. I did mine in so many conflicts, killing others. But if you want to place judgment on anyone, it has to be the leaders. Omar is the killer. That's why I'm helping Victor." He tickled his daughter on the nose, the baby chuckled and tried a grab at his hand. Thought he was playing, James eyes were sad and gray, and the baby looked up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face as if to say, 'What's wrong, stranger?'. "That, and because you have a baby to raise, is why I don't sell you out."

He gave the newborn back to Atole. It squalled in protest, which brought a thought to James, about how aware Nuhir could be that the man holding her was her real father. In time it would fade, and soon he could see Atole salving herself by being with another man. Her husband to be, if ever. Nuhir's father, if not in blood, than in upbringing.

"And I don't forget Atole." James hushed in a melancholy tone, "That we were something together. That won't completely go away. What we had was too strong, and Nuhir is proof of that." He was still betraying his masters, no matter how he phrased it, and that was the important thing; he was betraying them to protect her and Nuhir.

Tekri nodded slowly, hiding her disappointment. She'd wanted more from this visit, from James... but she could be patient. She had something that the Andorian could never give him - a child of his blood - and that would draw him back to her. She'd see to it. "We will not forget you, either."

James couldn't stand seeing Nuhir and Atole anymore. There was too much guilt, not being a real father, leaving one he loved for another he loved more, all because of a lack of trust. All the sudden, he wanted the rest of the questioning to be done and over with.

"One more thing," James said, "Do you know any of Omar's habits?"

"Nothing that would help, I'm afraid. He controls his appetites carefully - at least in public - and I've never been a part of his private life." She made a small face. "Nor do I wish to be. It is easier, I think, to be the instrument and not the master's favorite."

James nodded. At least he never had to deal with that problem. "I see. He won't be an easy man to pin down. But listen, I want you to stay out of his way for a bit. Don't draw any attention. I don't want you or Nuhir caught in the middle of this. In fact... I don't want you involved in this at all. No giving him warnings, no helping me or Victor, nothing. Just walk away from it. Got it?" James warned. He had hoped he wouldn't have to use leverage on Tekri, and for the most part he succeeded, but as a member of the Tal'Shiar, she wasn't trustworthy enough to leave alone. There was child custody, his last resort and very underhanded, but he felt relieved that he didn't have to use it....

Did he? Despite the circumstances involving Nuhir's artificial creation, she was still half human, half James Corgan. He saw himself in the baby's eyes. He had enough reason to fear for her safety...

James couldn't. Tekri had nothing, not even James, except for Nuhir. To take away the last anchor to her sanity...

"I better go, Atole. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer." James bowed to her, a warm smile directed at his baby daughter, "But if I have time, I'd like to visit you and the baby again. And... I'd like to give something to her."

"You are Nuhir's father; our home is always open to you whenever you wish to visit," Tekri assured him, pleased that he'd made the request without prompting... and that he'd tried to order her to be safe. She couldn't follow that order - not and ensure that her daughter was safe - but the thought that James was willing to stand as her protector warmed her inside. "What would you like to give her?" She smile at him, leaving little doubt what it was that he could give her.

James wryly smiled, "You'll see when she turns sixteen. It's a human thing. It won't make up for not being there, but it will be something I can do. For now, I should get going. Victor will want these answers right away."

He was about ready to leave, the door temptingly behind him. Getting away from Tekri would have eased his conscience; it wasn't as if she still wasn't fabulously gorgeous, even with baby in her arm and a few days' fatigue from her first time at motherhood. It wasn't as if he didn't or couldn't feel anything for her, because the end of their relationship wasn't the dying ember of a hot flame, but recoiling away from a deadly inferno. It still burned. James still loved.

But he did love someone else even more, and it wasn't just animalistic lust.

For a moment, it kept his thoughts sober, and his mind ever more guilty, both for Atole who still didn't let go, and for the daughter he left behind.

"Well..." James mourned, "See you later, Madam Tekri. Take good care of Nuhir."

He left the villa and came to the Federation Embassy an hour later. He quickly wrote what he knew on a PADD and had the Embassy transmit a copy to the USS Galaxy, using the most complex encryption algorithm James Corgan was authorized to use (and even then, it was in an innuendous mix of frontline war slang and investigative shorthand, but both a veteran like Victor could understand). After he was done, he gave his thanks to the marine chief there, promising him the rare Scottish Slamtastics track his sister coveted at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Across the embassy, James seated himself at a cafe, ordered himself the local equivalent of vile, pitch black coffee, and went to work on his PADD. If he was to give Nuhir his present, he had to start right away.

“Alone And The Universe”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan
And assorted NPC's

Location: T'kel Memorial Hospital, Romulus

Note: Thanks for being patient. Total backpost, months delayed, soooo sorry guys! Really, I mean it! But hey, I got it done. Not the best, but I think did what I came to do.

Jimmy's a daddy! YEAH!

This takes place just after they get to Romulus.

His sense of urgency adding as he came closer to the transporter pad, James Corgan rushed his pace, his feet clopping on carpeted flooring, his relentless charge shoving over those who did not have the foresight to get out of his way. Corridors became beige blurs, people became flickers that blurted out brief 'Hey! What the...'s before he darted around another corner.

James Corgan never felt this kind of urgency before, a knotted pit in his stomach and an overwhelming sense of dread and excitement that rushed in his head as fast as the progress he made through the ship. Not even his time on the USS Thunderchild as a shock trooper could compare to what he was feeling, for during that time even battle seemed emotionally distant to him, preoccupied with his own demons and thoughts. This time, it was a real crisis in the making, affecting him directly, and not about to let itself go.

The chief of security on the USS Galaxy was going to be a father. A father to an illegitimate bastard child that had more to do with a syringe and an artificial gestation tube than his own equipment, but his DNA and his child nonetheless. His former lover Atole Tekri was having his child. He was not about to miss it despite the circumstances involving the baby's creation.

With him for the whirlwind ride was James current beau, the equally determined Mika. Though a full foot shorter than James and tiny in mass in comparison, she was keeping up with James remarkable pace with the grace of a Salusan skydancer. Her eyes were still rimmed from her tears; it had been only fifteen minutes since James and Mika had a heated argument before the big announcement. She kept up, silent and grim, her boyfriend's urgency infectious.

At the transporter room, James was meet by his deputy T'lan. She was unemotional for the event (she was Vulcan, so her lack of excitement had more to do with her psychology and biology instead of any other outside influence) and wore her expression under an undemonstrative mask The stolid, if quirky Vulcan, took an interest in her Commander, staring at him as if she was analyzing a problem (for a Vulcan, it meant she was perplexed).

James stopped T'lan before any more intellectual analysis sent her logical thought processes though a swirling grav-toilet of chaos. “Lieutenant, now more than ever I really... reaally need you. I need you to stall for time.”

T'lan answered, her voice a dead slate, lacking none of the inflections to imply well wishes or good greetings, “And I was about to ask you, sir, why you needed to see me.”

The Commander was brief, leading Mika onto the transporter pad before turning his full attention to his loyal deputy, “I need you to cover for me. Now.”

T'lan raised an eyebrow at its highest arc. “Sir? Your request is incomplete, and by safe psychological prediction, ninety eight percent illogical.”

“That's fascinating. But please, this is very important. Madam Tekri is about to give birth to my daughter, and I have to be down there now. I haven't done my test yet to allow permission onto Rihannsu soil, so the second I beam down there I'll have every law enforcement agency on that planet trying to hunt me down like a rabid f**king jackal. If they have their sh*t together, I probably have 15 minutes or so before a proper response unit comes in to collect me, so I hope by this time I will get to see my daughter. I will look forward to being hauled off to prison, stripped, beaten, violated then thrown back to Starfleet for something even worse. I will most undoubtedly start an intergalactic incident and maybe even spark new hostilities between our two powers, lose that nice new pip of mine if I'm not dishonorably discharged, Starfleet Command's respect for me will hit rock bottom, as well as the fact that I will lose the captain's self respect of me for the THIRD time. If I come back it will be to more humiliation and disgrace... that is unless you do a hell of a job covering for me. Ok?”

T'lan grinded through her teeth, “Only the aforementioned, sir?”

“Yeah. You can see why I called you. You're the only one in my staff that can do it.”

His Vulcan deputy had to think the proposal over momentarily. “Yes sir, I shall do it.”

“I knew I could count on you!” James Corgan ran to the transporter pad, “Fire me up, and send me to T'kel Memorial Hospital. It's in the capital. If anyone asks, tell them I had to go see my daughter being born, but stall for time, and try to make them understand that i'm not trying to start an incident.” To drive the point home, James unholstered his custom phaser, handing it to T'lan handle first. She collected the weapon and set it aside on her console. “And tell everyone you were under orders by me, ok?”

“I AM under order by you, sir.” T'lan stated.

Ecstatically, James galloped onto the transporter pad. “That's the spirit, Lieutenant! Send me down and prepare to meet all the nice, pissed off folks at Romulus Transporter Control and our dear captain whom will want some answers. Try to be understanding and patient, it's his first time dealing with me going rogue.”

“I shall try to be... patient.”

“See that you do. T'lan, thank you very much. You sacrifice too much for a dumb son-of-a-b*tch like me.”

“I know.” T'lan's hands raced for the console, activating the transporter pad.

As James heard the whir of shifting photons and felt the conversion of his molecules to energy, Mika blurted out, “You are a dear friend, T'lan! Do not forget about our proposal!”

“Wait... what proposal?” James had time to ask before he was whisked away to the planet's surface.

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

“GIVE ME PAINKILLERS YOU VERUUUUUULLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

It was the sound that even the Q Continuum learned to fear (trial and error, mostly error on their part). It was life about to take form, the everpresent urgency of a new sentient about to emerge from it's placental barriers, leaving the bonds of its fleshly prison to take its chances into the world unknown. To Klingons, they howled to the gods when new life was born just like death, to let the gods know that there was a new warrior about to be born. Humans celebrated with recording devices, cooing words and altogether mushy sentiments. Betazoids had psychic links. Bajorans had utter silence broken by the occasional clang of a small tin gong. Almost every culture had their way of making the birthing process extra special.

Atole Tekri would have given anything to make it stop.

Oddly enough, anyone with Vulcanoid heritage (Romulans included, loathe to admit it), tended to have an especially hard and excruciating time with almost anything. Child birth was no exception, and this being Atole's first, it had to be extra special in a way that was very much like the Shiplak bowel plague; memorable for its messes and its irreversible tramaus.

How she wanted it to end.

Already from the feel of the bottom half of her trying to split itself apart to bring Nuhir to the universe, she wanted it all to end.

The doctors, all Romulans and a fine staff at that, were proceeding to the birth like it was any other. Words such as 'push' and 'you're doing fine' were niceties, no matter how accurate or apt, that seemed to undervalue the sheer amount of pain she was in. It served to anger her, made her want to push harder, throw the Romulan doctor's arrogance back to their faces.

But by the Star Empire, what pain!

“DRUGGGGGGG MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!” Atole Tekri demanded like the siren from hell.

The implacable doctor said from the confines of between her legs, “You are doing fine. Now breathe... that's it... one... two....”

“BY THE STAR GODS, THE PAIN!” Atole protested.

“You're doing fine.” Said the doctor, appearing bored.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Just consider yourself lucky, woman. I heard human labor can last for hours. Do you think it is the mother or the child that causes this?” The doctor quipped, thinking he was being good humoured.

There was no such thing as a birthing mother in good humour. “Listen to me! Unlesss you... ghhhh,” She paused as another spasm of pain rocked her lower regions, “...either drug me like a Reman spice addict or do a cesarean section on me, I will use all my Tal'Shiar authority to send you to the labour camps! Now give me...”

“We can't give you any more.” The doctor explained, talking down to Atole like she was a ten year old child with a slight disagreement, “It would be dangerous for the baby. We may have had enough half bred childs from that libidous group of Vulcan lovers on the other side of the Neutral Zone, but we still don't know enough about their biology and their interactions with our methods and anthethetics. All we know right now is that we can mate and breed children, so no more drugs!”

“Then where are my parents?!” Atole screamed. The child was in a hurry to get out, being in complete agreement with the mother. But to have her own parents miss this momentous occasion would have hurt worse than her physical pain. Nobody answered her. She asked again, more urgent, more probing. None of the doctors and nurses answered her.

Her lashing out, her anger was subsiding as the reality sank in. Her parents would not make it to see their granddaughter be born. For a Romulan, it was more than missing an important event. It was a condemnation of both mother and child.

It was bad enough the father could not love her too, and that he could not attend. But the grandparents? No friends? No close relatives? Nobody at all to welcome the new life she bore so excruciatingly into the world?

It was the start of a sobering new reality. There was no love for her, nor for innocent Nuhir, who was about to be born into a universe that didn't want her, didn't love her, and had no reason to. No love for Nuhir, or Atole.

It made Atole Tekri forget about her physical pain.

There was a final twist of pain down below, and a wet squall as the doctor emerged, his hands slick with green fluid, a writhing, pink and green bundle in his arms. With an expert hand he pinched and cauterized the umbilical cord, and handed the new life to a nurse to bundle up.

She didn't remember how long it took, but mother and child were brought close together. Atole felt weaker than she ever had in her life, barely enough to move her limbs, much less handle the fidgety baby that was in her arms. The pain subsided but left residual ache, her head swam with the drugs she was allowed and the exertion of birth.

Nuhir t'Stellam Tekri, her daughter, was born. New and innocent to the circumstances of her inception. It was a new life that left the consequences behind. She had her father's heritage, the slight pink of her skin to clash with mostly Romulan green, the less defined brow ridges and the waviness and lighter colouring of what little head hair she had, the head that seemed ungainly and oblong. When the baby did open her eyes, it showed her mother's heritage, a reflection of Atole herself.

The fact that nobody else showed up mattered less to her now. Nuhir was born, and every instinct told her to love the child. But all the same, fatigue forced her to loll her head over.

She didn't know what to make of the tall, blonde man with archaic spectacles staring back at her from the observation deck of the operating room, until finally it came to her.

Somebody important did show up for Nuhir's birth.

The father.

Her spirit raised faster warp, until she cried.

From the observation deck, the father gave Atole and Nuhir a meek wave back and an equally shy smile.

Then a look of panic and alarm.

Atole barely remembered the rest, but reflecting hours later, thought it to be at first very embarrassing, but then very flattering. If she remembered correctly, the panic and alarm was caused by the rather lax arrival time of a Rihannsu Immigrations and Naturalizations Apprehension squad, whom when faced with aliens that slipped under their monitoring stations, tended to be rather humourless.

“Oh James...” Atole croaked as a squad of officers leveled a half dozen disruptor rifles at the human officer's head, until they bristled like quills.

***********

“Do you realize how many laws you have broken?”

So asked the droning Immigrations officer, who paced back and forth at his sorry charges, who sulked with sorry looks while pondering their sorry predicament. In the pitch black room, made unique by one table, two chairs, two pieces of ancient technology known as paper and the number 2 pencil, and two Federation citizens that clearly had urgency over proper procedure, the Romulan Immigrations officer was not pleased. Not in the slightest.

And with a Starfleet security chief! Did they not have respect for law in the Federation?

“We had an agreement with the USS Galaxy.” The officer droned through his rendition of his speech done thousandfold with smugglers and illegal aliens, “That each officer visiting the planet had to go through one test involving our laws and customs. You have failed to do so before your unauthorized visit. Therefore, you have been apprehended.”

James Corgan snarled, “Jesus f**king Christ man! Haven't you heard of extenuating circumstances? My daughter was about to be born! Couldn't you have waited for me to say hi to her before you pointed disruptors at my f**king head?”

“And because of that...” The Romulan officer cut him off before he could snare more excuses, he had enough from illegals in a twenty year career to write an epic novel, so he tended to stop the offenders as a service to everyone involved, “...you have been allowed to complete your test, and since the... Andorian has such a nice diplomatic tongue, we will forgo the torture and even allow her to participate.” The Romulan said. James had no doubt he was being serious.

He carried on, “You will complete the test in one hour. Failure to pass this test will result in the immediate expulsion of yourself, Commander James Lionel Corgan of the USS Galaxy, and Mikaiu Sh'Son'ra of Andoria, from Romulan soil. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” James and Mika sulked, feeling like scolded students.

“Very well then.” The Romulan set a wrist chrono, “One terran hour. Begin.”

Leaving the two Federation citizens to do their test, The Romulan left in the dark that surrounded Mika and James. He was alone with his paper, his test sheet, his booklet and his pencil. It was the first time he had to assess his thoughts in the whole crisis.

He was a father. And oddly enough it felt good.

“Hey...” Mika whispered to him, “...was it worth it?”

James said without doubt, “You bet your blue ass it was. All the drama... and the humiliation. Worth it.”

Mika whispered back, “I am glad.”

“Thanks, babe. I appreciate that. And thanks for being there.”

James attacked the test. After today, this test would be easy.

3635